- AN - Randall was looking out of the window as his mind was working overtime to find as many backup plans as he could, his professional stance and knotted hands behind his back hiding the tumult. He didn’t liked to lose, and with his own life on the line, he certainly wasn’t going to lose this He owed it to his daughter to give her the world she deserved and fought for. Turning away, he walked to his desk, picking up the result sheet of the unknown medicinal chemical compound that Daniel Fitzgerald had given him before leaving to find Ysadora and give her the second copy. “Molecular Composition: - C7H6O3 - C4H8N2O3 - isovaleric acid - sterols - flavonoids - bitters - tannins - coumarins Possible effects: ….” Randall squinted in annoyance as 6 pages were devoted to an in-depth and lengthy description of all the possible effects and side-effects of the chemicals on any level and any combination. He quickly skimmed through the document, but was nevertheless intrigued by the chemicals’ ability to slow down haemorrhage and promote faster blood clotting. It was a useful chemical in terms of war. The document finally ended with the diagnostic Randall dreaded: “Match: This exact mixture of chemical compounds does not match any of our current records. Substance is unknown. More researches are needed to determine the existence and creation of this substance.” Randall threw down the papers. Another proof their plan was getting foiled by mysterious strangers who came from another universe, a concept that was up till two days ago uniquely theoretical; at least to his mind. He knew that Scott and several higher-ups amongst their superiors knew more than they told him about this concept of Multi Universal Travellers; but never had he actually believed them. Now one was working for him, and two more were threatening him. He sighed. At least, Abraham’s uniqueness was something he could use to his advantage. But the siblings’ existence threatened his plan, especially when they could avoid death. His office door opened, startling him, and Scott entered; the latter smiled in victory at Randall’s reaction: “Gotcha this time!” “I forgot you lacked manners,” Randall coldly replied. “Your manners are a waste of time and ultimately serves you in no way,” Scott nonchalantly replied back, making himself comfortable in one of the sofa. “Yet, you would be surprised how efficient etiquette can be. Kings and countries could be won over with simply the right words and gestures from noblemens,” Randall retorted, returning to gaze over the city. “I know a good way to speed things up,” Scott chuckled, sliding from inside his leather coat’s sleeves his katar dagger, touching lovingly the sharp blades. “That’s your problem. You only think of now. But victories are won over centuries of planning. Planning a victorious conquest is like planning a long and irreversible checkmate,” Randall said, looking as if remembering some old knowledge. “Zhongguo is probably the only Empire left that still remembers that strategy.” Randall returned to his desk, taking out a battered wooden box from one of the drawers. Scott looked amused. “You have more faith in Zhongguo despite spending all your energy on this pitiful state here?” “I do. Uni-states is only a cover to take the attention away from the real victory. With luck, everything will go as planned, and the transition will be smooth. If it fails, my agents will just keep on adapting, and Gaea will still flourish under proper guidance; it will only take longer for the game to play out.” “Too bad they no longer worship the Dragons,” Scott said, disappointingly. “But what will happen when they will see those ‘Dragons’?” Randall replied mischievously. Scott smiled, then rose, slipping back his dagger hidden. “Speaking of ‘Dragons’, the car is waiting, and Abraham will be ready in a few minutes.” “Good.” Randall finally found was he was looking for: an old ring, made dull with the years, harbouring a herald. “You’re lucky. You might inherit this world in the near-future.” “Ooh, I look forward to that!” Scott replied happily, walking childishly to the window, appreciating the view. “So do I. It will be time that humans had a proper challenge,” Randall said, stuffing the ring in his jacket pocket, closing the box. “What? Humans against me? You call that a challenge?” “Oh yes; and the strong shall inherit the kingdom.” “Don’t quote that idiotic book,” Scott spat in disgust. “I’m not quoting.” Randall approached Scott and taped him on the shoulder, a cold merciless smile on his lips. “You will force evolution, Scott. I hope you enjoy the pleasures you will get from your short-lived time.” He turned on his heels and walked toward the door. “I told you, Scott; my games are planned for centuries to come.” He turned to a steaming Scott: “You’re coming? We need to leave now.” Scott hid his humiliation, silently wishing the new siblings could at least make enough damage so that Randall would be punished as stated by his contract; he joined Randall as the later did nothing to hide his amused smile.