2006, 26th January

Paris, France

Lionel blinked as Michael from Apotheosis sat down at the table across from him, feet placed on the table.

A stocky man in a matching suit, very obviously not human- judging from the lack of a body odour or the sound of a pulse, crossed his arms in front of him, standing at Michael’s shoulder.

Lionel and Michael regarded each other coolly from opposite ends of the room, Lionel all predatory intent that beaded and rolled off Michael’s self assurance like water off wax.

The only time Lionel had detected any reaction at all, a spike of mild surprise reflecting off Michael’s features, was when he had introduced himself in the first place, as if the words Lionel Bellone meant something to him.

He would dig deeper down that thread later.

“We found what you were looking for.” Michael declared.

Without much pause, he elaborated.

“This is the creature whose blood was being used to mutate those people.”

He scattered a few photographs of some headless corpse on the table between them.

“This much I could have tracked down myself. I wanted the head of the snake. These are symptoms.”

“It’s already over. New cases haven’t been seen in a long enough time to determine the culprit is gone, or has shut down operations."

“They have merely moved. There were cases found all the way in Russia and Mongolia.”

Michael leaned back in his seat a bit further, satisfaction radiating off his features.

“There is no need to engage in wordplay with me. I am not unwilling to share pertinent information.” Lionel said.

“The problem is out of your jurisdiction. It’s an internal matter for us, and we’ll be better equipped to handle it when you tell me exactly what your dealings were with the customer who bought that list of people Pierre asked you about on the first day. That counts as pertinent information.”

Lionel leaned forward, eyes intently focused on Michael’s throat, and the lights around them dimmed.

Michael remained as impassive as ever.

And then the ancient monster decided to have a look at the man behind the facade, crushing Michael’s mental barriers like autumn leaves before a storm.

He had a fleeting glimpse of the man’s thoughts, rigidly structured and perfectly disciplined.

Michael winced in shock- then he smiled.

Lionel was treated to several displays of a weapon the magi called the pulse bomb, in action, a suicidal weapon from the looks of things, that seemed to have effects as unpredictable as a nightmare.

He saw grown men turned to children in one instance, their bodies rendered to water in another, and in yet another, what appeared to be a black hole erupted from the body of the mage with the weapon on her person, rending her and the people around her to component particles.

And he sensed the purpose of this demonstration- a pulse bomb ticking down, attached to Michael’s chest, under his shirt, counting down exponentially faster with the increased force of Lionel’s mental probe.

“I once chastised Pierre for the rudimentary simplicity of these weapons as a negotiation tactic,” Michael mused, “But sometimes, the simple and direct approach is the most efficient one.”

“You are not afraid of death.”

“You’re in my head, vampire. Figure it out.”

Lionel had figured it out- and he had figured out exactly why Michael had reacted the way he had upon hearing his name, and satisfied, he withdrew from Michael’s mind.

“Very well. You’ve convinced me.”

Lionel leaned back once more, immediately less threatening than he had been a moment ago, and still more than most would believe possible.

“The ongoing war has been good for business. Most of the acquisitions I sold were brought in from Iraq, a benefactor in a certain PMC aiding me in exchange for a cut. Silver Moon, I believe they were called. I fell out of contact recently though. That isn't a coincidence.”

“No. Maybe they were able to cut out the middleman.”

“Perhaps. A few days ago, I lost contact with a well established group of my people in Iceland. And I felt something akin to a tremor in that region.”

“A gut feeling?”

“No.”

“Very well. You don’t personally oversee all sales you make, but were these sent out to any specific location you recall?”

“Nowhere you aren’t familiar with. It’s where your people have built their local installation.”

Michael didn’t bother expressing any surprise that Lionel knew about that. He rose to his feet to leave.

“I’ll make contact if anything specifically pertaining to your interests turns up in our investigation. Thank you for the information.”

“One more thing. You were right about that bomb not being a particularly effective tool for negotiation. It wouldn’t have killed me.”

“But it would have killed me. And that fact would have killed you as surely as any bomb.”

Something resembling satisfaction crossed Lionel’s eyes. “You would still have been dead.”

Michael raised his eyebrows.

“What does that matter?”

Lionel inclined his head, and the room they sat in was plunged in an impenetrable darkness.

Michael immediately switched perception to the invisible spectrums of light, and found that those had been swallowed by the darkness as well.

Then the shadows receded, and the vampire was gone.

Michael walked out to the waiting SUV outside, adjusting his tie, as the android trailed behind him.

Sinking into the driver’s seat as the android took its place beside him, he growled.

“Railroaded!”

Lionel had barely left with any new information than he had possessed the previous night; and all things considered, he didn’t seem interested in who the perpetrators were.

He must have been primarily interested in their research, and from what he had gathered by talking to Pierre, Lionel had mostly been dissatisfied by the pace of the investigation.

By talking to Michael, he had mostly gotten a feel for how many resources Apotheosis was truly willing to dedicate to this hunt.

And had promptly pointed him to a target.

Michael pulled up to the portal installation, lost in thought.

Lionel Bellone.

Bellone.

It wasn’t a coincidence- this had to have been-

How should he track her down?

Dimensional magic he did not possess, and he would not bring another mage into this particular fold.

Internet tracking was all too easily intercepted.

There was no point to tracking her anyway- let her be apart from-

All this.

He summarily put the thought out of his head as he walked through the portal, off to consult Abas once again.

“So you finally found a man you couldn’t read.” Abas observed.

“I read him just fine. Just like a man falling off a skyscraper knows exactly how that trip is going to end. There’s just nothing to be done about it.”

“That isn’t like you. Something has thrown you off.”

Michael’s face turned to an opaque, inexpressive mask.

“Keep it close to your chest if you must.” Abas said. “But tread with caution. None of us can afford any weakness with the lives we live.”

"The vampire has pointed out a target. And he has pointed us towards it."

"Indeed. He must want it for himself, this ability to mutate humanity with the traits of his own kind."

"I could have gotten more. If I wasn't-"

Abas silenced him with a slanted look.

"This vampire must really have shaken you. You're falling back into old habits. I believed I had siphoned you of those."

Michael merely exhaled.

It was true. Obviously.

"The past is a dream, fit for instruction and nothing else." Abas said. "Allow it to burden you, and you will find yourself debilitated by its weight, while those who do not allow it to shackle them-"

"Overtake or crush you underfoot. I remember."

After a gap, Michael huffed in amusement.

"You know, this teaching of yours is the one reason I never bothered studying dimensionalism? The one field that would actually allow me to interact with the past?"

Abas smiled, skin wrinkling around his eyes.

"I'm sure the fact that your old teacher had no talent for that one field didn't factor into your consideration at all."

"Please. I would have found another one."

They sat together in companionable silence before Michael spoke again.

"Don't think the hypocrisy of talking about leaving the past behind while sitting here swapping tales of my misspent youth escapes me."

Abas smiled even wider.

"People are allowed a bit of hypocrisy every now and again."

After a moment's pause, he continued.

"I know you will overcome this obstacle too, Michael. When you finally catch up with Hans… I trust your judgment. The future is in the next generations' hands. Decide well."

Michael walked out, spine straightened and all thoughts of Lucia Bellone left behind where they belonged in the past.

Both for her sake and his own.