The entirety of Libra’s upper management was gathered into the main living space of the headquarters. Meetings like this were rare in and of themselves, but having two essentially back-to-back was unprecedented. And that sentiment could be seen plastered across the faces of every member in the room.

Siegella was resolute, but slightly wavering in her composure; Larry was just as distant, but his eyes were rapidly bouncing all around the room; Big Al did not speak, but his frowning face gave away his confusion; and finally, Vito continued to dissociate more and more, almost seeming to lose himself before he was calmed down by a caring hand from Al.

The only one who continued to remain a pillar of solidarity was the man who led it all: Archard. Like an emperor about to enlighten his generals, he strutted into the room, followed by Fang and Vincent, who both seemed just as calm as him.

Just as he made it into the middle of the room, Archard stopped in place. Fang came to a halt and Vincent followed suit. The roaring chatter turned into hushed whispers, which slowly faded away into obedient silence.

As Vincent’s eyes scoured the crowd, he did not see any of his friends. He understood that Zander was against joining the organization, and him not being there seemed to confirm that. But Eliot not being present was a bit shocking. After all, Vincent figured that his mission should’ve been finished yesterday. Maybe he slept in?

“My fellow Libras,” Archard’s voice rang out, “thank you for joining me on such short notice.” His metallic arm glistend brightly against the mid-morning light that shone through the thinly draped windows. “Before we begin this meeting, I have an unfortunate announcement to make. It appears that Aries is becoming more bold, just like we thought. Our escort mission, led by Paulette, was intercepted and gunned down. There were no survivors. In fact, some of the bodies on the scene were unrecognizably torn to shreds.”

A sudden weight dropped down into the pit of Vincent’s stomach. There was an immediate chilling sensation that filled him. There was unaccepted despair that began to creep in.

“It is a grim reminder of what we’re fighting against,” Archard continued. “Now, when it comes to the progress of the new train tracks being built, I would say that…”

Wait, Vincent thought, tuning out the rest of what Archard was blabbing on about, stop talking. Go back. What did you say?

There were too many thoughts and emotions that rapidly fired through his brain. He couldn’t keep up with them. In fact, even though his brain continued to think, he remained frozen, unable to process any of those thoughts.

Why did you mention that so casually? he angrily thought. Someone died. Someone you know died. One of your friends di—

All mind-ramblings ceased before he could finish that phrase. A horrid reality was on the other side of that sentiment, and he knew it. He might not have thought about it, but the very back of his mind knew it to be the truth, whether he realized it or not. Regardless of if he did or didn’t, an overwhelming sense of dread began to weigh him down, accompanied by an acute presence of fear.

Why am I afraid? What am I scared of? he wondered. What’s missing? What’s missing? What am I missing?

Then a single image appeared in his brain. It was that of his friend, Eliot. At first, he was confused by the sudden intrusive thought. It didn’t make any sense. How could that be the missing piece to his crisis? After all, Eliot was on a mission with…

And that’s when the dread consumed him. It broke his heart and his mind.

“No…” was all he could say, even at a whisper.

His head began to swirl. Miscellaneous memories flooded his psyche, crowding out any sense of rationality that he had left. He felt cold. He felt hot. He felt angry. He felt sad. He didn’t know what he felt. All that he did know was that he knew nothing.

The only clear thing that he could recall was the conversation that he had with Zander the night before. It was just a night ago, but the horror of what was said was ever-present. He told Zander that Eliot would be alright. He promised him that.

He promised him.

He promised him.

HE. PROMISED. HIM.

A fiery rage began to boil in his stomach. It climbed upwards into his chest, where his heart ignited it further, exploding it into his throat. His mind gave those abstract emotions words, just as the flames reached his tongue. Looking at Archard with the wildest eyes he had ever had in his life, he opened his mouth.

“We have to avenge them,” Vincent said in the most unnervingly calm voice he had ever used, completely devoid of emotions. His face was slack and neutral. His words were cold.

Archard stopped proclamating and turned his confused attention towards Vincent. “What did you say?” he asked.

“We have to avenge them,” Vincent coldly repeated. There was nothing inside of him. His head was empty, allowing his thoughts to clearly flow out of him. In fact that anger that he had felt within him seemed like all but a dream—a dream that the nothingness within him consumed before it grew too large.

“Avenge who? The rail workers?” Archard asked. “They're happy with their jobs.”

“No, our friends,” Vincent replied, matter-of-factly.

The Godfather’s eyes darted around the room and one of his eyebrows raised. Eventually, his gaze landed back on Vincent.

“And what do you mean by that?” Archard inquired.

“You said that our friends were murdered by Aries, yes?”

Archard’s face recoiled back a bit. “Yes,” he slowly confirmed. “That was what Lawrence’s report said.” He then broke his careful demeanor and looked around the room. “And speaking of Lawrence, why isn’t he—

“Well, if Aries did this, then let’s end them,” Vincent interrupted.

“It’s not that simple, son. We need to—”

“I don’t care,” Vincent said. “I don’t care anymore. We need to stop them. They can’t be allowed to do this anymore.”

There was a murmur that began to circulate within the crowd of mobsters. It started off low, but it was gradually gaining traction.

“We can’t just go guns blazing into Aries’s territory,” Archard argued. “That would be suicide. We need a plan first.”

“Then I’ll do it myself,” Vincent said with deadened eyes. “We must avenge them.”

That murmuring crowd began to talk, and that talking turned into empowered voices.

“Yeah, let’s avenge them,” a voice in the crowd said.

“Enough playin’ games! We gotta get ‘em!” another voice added.

Soon enough, the mobsters all began to chant and cheer for the idea of Aries’s demise. They all wanted revenge for their fallen family. There was anger and bloodlust with every word.

A slight smile began to creep across Archard’s face. “I hear you!” he exclaimed. “You want your revenge? You want to put an end to them? Then it shall be done.”

The entirety of Libra cheered—all except for Siegella and Fang.

“But I must warn you,” Archard began to say, his voice booming, “if we’re going to strike, we’re going to strike them with everything we have.” He then looked at Vincent and then back at the crowd.

“Yeah!” the crowd cheered. “Fuck em’!” they would say.

“Well alright. If you want to win so badly, then there are going to be casualties.”

But still the mob cheered for death. They shouted out that they didn’t care.

You’re right,” Archard exclaimed to the masses. “If Aries doesn't care if there are casualties, why should we?”

“YEAH!!” the crowd erupted.

Archard then began to pace around the room and put a hand in the air. “Now, quiet down,” he said. “I understand your enthusiasm, but let me tell you how we’re going to get it done.”

The roaring crowd quieted, but the air was still buzzing with tense emotions and anticipation.

“There’s a plan that I’ve been thinking about for a while now,” Archard began to say, “but I haven’t figured out exactly how to implement it without directly harming some of the east-side citizens. But, if you want this war to end, then it’ll be a small price to pay.”

Many heads in the crowd nodded in agreement.

“Very well,” Archard said. “We’re going to attack the east-side power plant. With no power, the east side will have no cooling, no electricity, no power to run their daily lives. And when they become weakened by this sudden loss, that’s when we’ll strike.”

Fang then stepped forward.

“But Arch,” they said, “surely we don’t have enough muscle to back up this plan. I mean, Siegella and I can’t take out the power plant alone. I’m sure there will be Resonators guarding it. We just need a little more.”

“Fang, my child,” Archard laughed, “if it’s muscle you want, then I can get it for you.” He then turned towards Vincent. “Isn’t that right?”

“Of course,” Vincent said. “I’ll do anything.”