Chapter 21: Veiss

Veiss used to long for the surface. Why he became an agent in fact. Long before he was chosen as first heir. He’d simply wanted to experience the smell of fresh air, the bright summer days and warm sun against his skin.

‘No longer.’

The harsh sunlight was at his neck, the downtown stink in his nasal and sweat stung at his eyes.

He wanted nothing more than the relief of wiping his eyes but he couldn’t afford break stride. He couldn’t risk slowing down and letting Carrasco ahead disappear from view.

Buildings, floatcars, pedestrians all flashed past as Veiss sprinted through the crowded sidewalk. Sweat flying of his face with every long stride.

‘Is this what the furnace feels like?’

The surface was always hot but the Gau City summer in particular was something demonic. The mid-summer blaze seemed to bake him down to the bones.

He usually loved the black agent suit, it was the perfect formal attire but to the cruel sunrays it was a sponge for the absorption of heat.

It was no wonder the 2nd Master Fate moved the clan underground.

A boy leapt out of a designer shop into his path. Plopped himself right into the middle the sidewalk.

Veiss didn’t hesitate. He crunched through the little kid, running him over and barely broke stride.

‘Hot and fucking crowded.’

He didn’t dare slow for any obstacle, going through anyone whom did not step out of his way because Carrasco ahead did the same.

His sunglasses bobbed unstably and threatened to fall off his face. Ears rang with the distant cries and curses of his run-over victims.

‘All this commotion will draw the cops. I need to catch him quick.’

Carrasco ducked into an alley.

“Shit!”

The entire chase he felt Carrasco wasn’t running at random. He’d taken the most optimal escape route. He’d studied the layout of the park and its surroundings.

Veiss pushed himself to catch up, swerved into the alley at near full speed and crashed into a dumpster but managed to stay on his feet. He’d muted himself, immunizing himself from the ache of his body. He was about to resume his dash when he noticed the alley.

“Fuck!”

Besides the dumpsters, trash heaps and general filth, the alley was empty. The alley was over a 150m long. Ten seconds hadn’t passed and he doubted Carrasco without a mech suit could clear it that quickly.

He blinked hard and his shades swapped to thermal vision. He performed a rudimentary scan of the alley and only detected a score of rodents. No Carrasco, he was gone.

‘Surely he isn’t that quick. Wait did he?’

Veiss accessed his internal interface, remotely activated his EM Shoes and set them on max repulsion. He leapt onto the dumpster but recoiled moments before landing on its surface.

He was thrust into the sky and the force carried him to the apex of the alley and he landed on the roof of the right building.

‘You fucker.’

He spotted Carrasco leap frogging across a roof, two buildings away.

He set his EM Shoes to electromagnetic levitation. Electricity hummed beneath his soles, lifted him until he was hovering a few centimetres of the roof.

He dashed for the traitor. Veiss crossed the length of the roof in an instant. His shoes gripped the air with each step. His body was bent forward and his form was more skating than it was running.

At the end of the roof, he brought his legs together, bent his knees and glided across the air onto the neighbouring building.

He motioned back into his skating form, pushed himself forward at alarming speeds.

He got within a building of the Carrasco before the traitor stole a glance back.

As if realizing he’d be caught soon the traitor opted to plunge down when he reached the end of the roof he was on.

‘Suicide.’

Veiss frowned screeched to a stop when he reached the end of the same roof. He peered down, expecting to see a splattered body but saw sky traffic instead.

It took Veiss a moment to locate Carrasco. He was atop a floatcar on the lowest lane of sky traffic speeding away.

He decided against giving chase. The sirens in the distance were getting louder.

‘Best to quit while I’m ahead.’

If he got arrested he’d have to void his chances of inheriting the AoF and the clan by extension.

He locked gazes with Carrasco over the distance. As if realizing he’d given up, the traitorous bastard smiled and had the nerve to raise a hand, waving him off.

‘You motherfucker.’

Veiss sneered at him. Hoped the driver of the floatcar would crash or something.

‘Anything to wipe that grin off his face.’

But as a pragmatic man he knew life wasn’t that convenient.

Veiss accessed his internal interface and messaged Dybala and the master. Requested they rendezvous.

A two-seater floatcar parked by Veiss and the passenger door flapped open.

Dybala was in the driver seat, one hand on the steering rod another hand gesturing him in.

There was a cut on the side of her forehead, trickling blood around her eye, down her flawless dark skin, onto her neck and absorbed by the collar of her suit.

She didn’t seem to notice the cut or the blood. The muted never did.

He got in and the door flapped close behind him.

They were about to lift off when Veiss motioned a hand to her face and watched in horror as she flinched her head back in response. Her brows were furrowed, staring at him.

Veiss held out his hand awkwardly for a moment.

‘It never goes this way in the drama streams.’

Veiss regained his composure, retracted his hand and gestured at his own face.

“Your bleeding, right here.”

“Oh,” she said and wiped the bleeding side of her face into her shoulder.

“What happened?” Veiss asked, quick to move past the awkwardness.

“Scuffle with the cops but I managed to shake them.”

“Fuck,” Veiss said. Whipped off his shades and used the tip of his suit jacket to wipe them dry. “I told the master we needed more agents for this.”

It was just the three of them to begin with.

“He had no choice were stretched thin as it is.”

“Carrasco should’ve been our top priority. He has the astra so he should’ve been our sole priority.”

She wasn’t moved by his reaction, she remained impassive as always as if her blood never boiled.

“It was a good plan. There were too many factors in play so failure wasn’t unexpected.”

“My plan was better.”

She clasped his shoulder hard, too hard and her black polished nails sank deep into his plastic suit and pierced his flesh.

“Vent if you will but refrain from questioning the master’s decisions, at least in my presence.”

‘Is this any way to talk to a superior?’

Veiss stared down his nose at her. Noticed the resolve in her eyes, felt the pain of her grasp.

‘You should shut up now.’

Perhaps it was for the best. Better to not hurt his already weak standing with her.

“The master is also a human,” Veiss said as non-confrontational as he could manage. “A human capable of making mistakes and as such he isn’t beyond questioning.’

More than that, there was no need for her to take the master’s side over his.

“The master is human indeed but he is also favoured by the flow of probability. So the fruition of fate will come all the same no matter what he decides.”

Dybala spoke as if she was reciting facts, as if what she said was a universal and undeniable truth.

‘He’s just fucking smart, sometimes. His successes aren’t magical,’ he thought but did not say. He’d only further offend her and her stupid religion.

Staying on the surface had done little to shake her faith. No, the shaman had poisoned her too well.

‘And despite my efforts she still won’t see logic.’

How he’d fallen for one of the hardcore believers was beyond him.

“Were wasting time,” Dybala said and released his shoulder. “Which way did Carrasco go?”

“He was headed down Protea Drive when I lost him”

The floatcar dipped of the roof, joined traffic and headed westbound on Protea Drive.

“We won’t find him,” Veiss said.

She ignored him.

‘Because she never listens.’

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Doesn’t hurt to take a look,” she said.

“Stop the car,” Veiss said. Closed his eyes, pinched his glabella and added. “That’s an order.”

She indicated left, swerved out of traffic and floated onto a roof and parked the vehicle.

‘She never listens unless it’s an order.’

And he didn’t like ordering her. Made their relationship seem all that more professional and kept them at a distance to each other.

“You should return to your cover,” Veiss said.

“I think—”

“That’s an order,” Veiss added.

“I’m going back then,” she said evenly. “You can take the car.”

She showed no signs of displeasure, her expression as indifferent as the day he’d met her, before he became first heir, when they were but lowly trainees.

‘And time has not softened her up.’

Dybala motioned out the floatcar, moved to the edge of the roof to wait for a taxi.

“Don’t mute too long,” he said softly.

She waved a hand dismissively.

The master could do no wrong in Dybala’s eyes, which begged the question. When he became the 3rd Master Fate, Would he be able to inspire the same reverence within the clan and his agents?