Meanwhile, Rahkaze was in the offices of the Shadow Support Unit in the Novak University. He was hard at work rebuilding the Mark 77 bomb by scanning the fragments and using the 3-D graphics engine to render the model. Cynthia approaches him with a bottle of Dr. Pepper.

Rahkaze takes the kind offer, “Oh, thanks…”

“You actually said thank you, weird…” Cynthia deadpans.

Rahkaze scoffed, “I’m not a complete asshole…”

Cynthia sits beside him while he was working, “Any luck?”

“I took a 3D model of the original schematic of the Mark 77 and trying to rebuild it using the parts I scanned into the system,” Rahkaze explained, waiting for the rendered results.

“It was highly modified, you said it yourself,” Cynthia recanted.

“Yes. Every craftsman has its own signature. Whether it is bomb-making or baking cakes. You can copy the recipe, but it will never the like the original,” Rahkaze said, opening up his bottle of Dr. Pepper.

“If only Alastair were here? I heard he could feel ‘inside of the jet engine and tell what was exactly wrong with it just by touching it,” Cynthia remembered as it took Rahkaze back to the days where the syndicate was not all that bad.

“His techno-kinetic skills were on the same level of technopathy or brain-computer interfaces, yes. He was one of the most brilliant minds out there, but in the end--”

“Why do you hate this place so much?” Cynthia interrupts.

As he looked into Cynthia’s eyes, Rahkaze knew that she was frank and honest. She wasn’t trying to be smart or snide, she just wanted a correct answer. To him, it was quite off-putting to see something like that.

But he tries his best to give a straight answer without being to mean, “I just do… Why does anyone need a reason to step on anyone anymore? You don’t need one.”

Cynthia frowned, “That’s a bit dark...”

Rahkaze chuckled at the fact, “Why did you enroll in this school in the first place?”

Cynthia lays back in her chair as she crosses her legs, well she gives a straight answer herself, “Harvard costs way too much, and the headmaster gave me a full scholarship, free room, and board.”

“Yeah, anything else?” Because it being curious.

“Not all of us are two-faced liars and deviants. Most of us just want a place to hone our skills. Yes, you are absolutely right. Those wolf girls are fucking crazy, and they should be locked up and be sentenced to life in prison. Will it change anything? No. Will it bring anyone’s loved ones back to life? Absolutely not. Will it make you feel any better? Temporarily. Such hatred and bitterness were never a part of the Nether, and it never was, to begin with. Many people thought so and even acted accordingly, but it only made things much worse for people who didn’t anything more but to be accepted,” Cynthia lectured.

This explanation was a breath of fresh air to Rahkaze as she continued, “So in that vein, I do not agree with you. I will not agree with you. We can get it right. We can set a positive example. We can look back into our past and change for the better. Because if we as a whole cannot do that or label such people as weird and disgusting without even giving them a chance to change for the better, then why even go on living?”

I guess you can say this was something that her cousin wanted all along. Honesty. However, for him, it was too little and too late for any of that.

If only Dolph Eichner focused on people like Cynthia from the very beginning, the Oleander Syndicate would have been still around flourishing and prospering. But now, there’s nothing more than a bunch of broken dreams of broken promises resembling a pile of smoldering rubble.

“I never said all Nether-users and nephalems were bad people. But when a man like Dolph uses his ex-wife’s name in vain, that’s what pisses everyone like me off,” Rahkaze rebutted.

The computer was finished with the rendered image, and not a moment too soon as both Rahkaze is it yet scrutinizes the provided product. The results were shocking.

“That is three times bigger than the original bomb. And there are even three hooks on top of it like can be carried by something,” Rahkaze pointed out.

“No wonder it took out four city blocks… This bad… Who would make something like this?” Cynthia questioned.

“I’m calling it in…. We got our weapon…” Rahkaze didn’t have to answer Cynthia’s question. He saw the same kind of blueprints before, and he did not like what was transpiring.

Hours went by after that violent altercation between Natalia Silvestri and Alpha Crucis. The two parties decided to split up and create some space between each other. It was already four in the afternoon, and the sentinels had to regroup and go over what they have discovered.

Delta Crucis wanted to walk around a bit and get some food in the cafeteria. Fortunately, she found her leader, sulking in the corner, having a drink.

She didn’t have to think twice, approaching the depressed Sentinel and offer her some company, “They told me you would be here! Lycka and the others are waiting for you,” Delta Crucis said as she took a seat across from her.

“I’m drinking Coca-Cola, and it’s not even diet… Now I know I am depressed…” Alpha Crucis stated.

Delta Crucis felt genuinely empathetic of Alpha Crucis’ sadness, “You didn’t know, Alpha. They had the nerve to give us dummy records and falsified information. How in the hell were we supposed to know? And besides, it wasn’t Junichi’s place to air out Silvestri’s dirty laundry.”

They love hating each other, but they love to protect their own. We are dealing with a toxic environment that breeds inconsistency and chaos.” Alpha Crucis nodded in agreement, but she couldn’t fathom whether or not Natalia was telling the truth, “did she… really have a miscarriage?”

“Her being pregnant, yes. It was about the same time when Natalia went missing from London, and she was at least 12 weeks pregnant,” Delta Crucis confirmed. “The common signs of losing a child is there: anxiety, depression, dissociation, psychosis…”

“But?”

“When she was admitted to the Cambridge Hospital in London and yet she showed no signs of pregnancy. But as the days went on, her uterine walls were getting bigger,” Delta Crucis contradicted. “She lost the baby, according to Ayeka. Although, they were many cases that mothers who suffered miscarriages suffer anxiety and depression years after they lost their babies.”

“Yet?”

“Once again, it doesn’t make any sense… The sudden rapid growth of her pregnancy, her sudden recovery, everything…” Delta Crucis frowned and confusion.

Alpha Crucis took a sip of her soda as she contemplated over this latest discovery, “So, Ayeka was lying?”

“Or being lied to… I mean, when you were attacked by Silvestri, what truly set her off?” Delta Crucis questioned.

Alpha Crucis shrugs as she answered, “Alastair Copeland, he worked with her.”

“Right! I’m curious as to how there was only ONE MALE who worked full time in the Oleander Syndicate. I don’t care how chaste he would have been. He would have had a sexual relationship with at least one woman in the syndicate,” Delta Crucis suggested.

With the confident nod, Alpha Crucis finished her soda and rose from the table, “Alright, let’s go.”

There was never really a dull moment from the very beginning of this case. In a way, they shouldn’t be all that surprised about finding more secrets and lies. This was the Oleander Syndicate.