“Should he really be here for this conversation?” Kaisa said, cutting in.
“Right, let me introduce my new muscle and baby daddy, the former head of the North American Enforcement Bureau, Cyrus Grimm. There's not much point trying to hide shit, since he and his pretty Siren plan to stay and co-parent, so have fun getting used to him. Well…unless you’ve changed your mind and plan to flee, Cyrus?”
The Fate rolled his eyes. “I haven’t.”
“Too bad. Now, back to the conversation of ships. We in fact do have a need, as we have recently acquired fifty-one new spaceships. Since none of my current shell companies would pass the checks needed to buy in bulk, and I do not have a pixie under my command to create any of the shit we need, thievery is my best, and often only, option. So, unless you have a better one, it's best to shove down those moralistic urges of yours and just pretend to not hear what we are planning.”
Though, he really should work on trying to lure a pixie into his grasp. But finding one who would even be interested was an almost impossible endeavor, because most pixies had it pretty easy in life, considering all they had to do was sell their dust and they’d be good to go.
Regardless, they needed to up their supplies once the new fleet was completed.
Cyrus sighed heavily, his mouth pressing into a firm line.
After sending the man a wink, he faced forward again. “How are the bases coming?”
Raynir, the large, black-haired Gargoyle, stared silently for a moment. The man’s dark-gray eyes briefly flicked to Cyrus, before looking to him and stating, “Not done, but getting there.”
“That was not informative. Which ones? How far is the progress?”
The Gargoyle sighed. “The locations in unclaimed space are about halfway complete, each progressing at around similar speeds, while the bases on the planets and moons we’ve chosen are nearly complete.”
That made sense, it was a hell of a lot easier to create with structures already in place, than it was to do it in the middle of empty fucking space.
Cyrus stoodthere listening to Ender talk with the inner circle of Cryptid Means, trying not to think about all the ways the shit they were up to was illegal. It bugged him, all of it did, and it was a struggle to not say something, or try to guide Ender to make better fucking choices…
He rolled his eyes—like I even know what the better choices are anymore…
It was clear the Bureau’s intel had failed, or fallen behind. Or maybe all of this was just too recent of a development for them to even have a chance of uncovering it. Of course, Cyrus had only had brief interactions with Ender and Cryptid Means. Headquarters were the ones tasked with dealing with them. Despite Ender’s main base being in the USA, his branch, or his former branch, tended to stay out of the Gorgon’s business, unless one of their cases ended up having a crossover.
As far as he knew, the latest intel they had on the group was that Cryptid Means had yet to really extend their reach outside of Earth. That had apparently changed. Not that it mattered if the intel was wrong. The Bureau was consistent in their failures when it came to trying to hinder Ender’s efforts.
Part of him thought it was on purpose, yet…from discussions he’d had with a few of his relatives who were at the main Headquarters, not all of it could be. A good number of them had a clear level of contempt for Ender and his blatant disregard for universal laws.
Cyrus could understand their feelings to a point. But as much as he was against a good bulk of the illegal shit Cryptid Means did, he didn’t completely understand the hatred some of his relatives had. The good that came with Cryptid Means’ existence, in his mind, far outweighed the bad.
Then again, some of his relatives seemed very intent on making sure the power they currently yielded wasn’t put at risk…and he supposed a group who had already toppled a few governments was very much a risk.
There wasthis almost burning ball of excitement in his chest that just kept growing as Killian followed Ender into the heart of the compound’s Intelligence Center while ogling the state-of-the-art tech all around him.
Even the return of rounded walls, and the blatant staring of everyone in the open spaces, couldn’t dampen the feeling. With black walls, ceiling, and floor, the large rounded room was a half open space, with small, private offices sectioning areas throughout. The only color in the room were the desks, chairs, and equipment. The colors most likely chosen by the person whose space it was, it created a sea of rainbow amongst all the black.
No matter what color things were, everything was new enough to make him almost giggle giddily. It was also expensive, with the brands ranging from Muze, Mute, Burnout, and a few others, but they were all basically a hacker’s wet dream.
Goodbye, decades-old technology, I won’t miss you one bit!
While the Bureau’s shit worked well enough, at least seventy percent of it was out of date. It was like they updated the bare minimum that they had to, while everything else, in true government fashion, was used until it fell apart…or Killian secretly destroyed it when whatever it was pissed him off one too many times.
He had to say, one of the main perks of being a Director at the Bureau was that he’d never been questioned when something broke.
Standing there shirtless, Killian eyed the white blouse he’d intended to wear that was now in Ender’s clutches. The Gorgon was standing there, his gaze flicking back and forth from him to the shirt, then to his nest.
Ender’s nest was pretty well formed now, it had developed fast in the four days they’d been there. Multicolored, with many layers, the nest was also now very plush to the touch. The rim around the circular basket-like nest was uneven. The edges nearest the middle of the bed were at most three inches high, while the parts near the edge and headboard were triple that.
Killian wrinkled his nose. “Ender, please… I’m running out of clothes and I’ve only been here four days.”
Cyrus scoffed. “Yeah, I ran out yesterday. I’m now borrowing shit from people I don’t even know.”
Ender’s mouth opened, no doubt to argue, but as the Gorgon’s gaze slipped to Cyrus, he demanded, “Give it to me.”
