The Encampment, despite the hype surrounding it, was an ugly mess of administrative buildings and weird projects that were definitely some sort of embezzlement or money laundering scheme. For every ten office spaces, you’d get a peculiar architectural art-piece whose creator ought to be taken out the back and shot. That was all the Encampment was aesthetically: just a sprawl of political bloat and unnecessary space.

But maybe that was just the American in Victor that was talking. Talking as he was running errands with his teammates, at the beck and call of Sage, scurrying around the Encampment and having to speak with officers and stuffy bureaucrats who didn't want to be here. Getting updates, getting information, relaying messages, basically communication work. Sage needed a lot of things from others and they weren’t happening.

Nobody was particularly enthusiastic about being bothered by kids fresh out of college and their boss, who was a hikikomori and who also referred to herself in the third-person unironically. And Professor Hei—Gul—had to take control of the conversation most of the time.

And right now, as her students were going down Emergence Avenue, she stayed back with some transportation guy to work out logistics so Sage and her team could get the things they needed in due time—everybody was like that, now, desperate for something but nothing was coming fast enough.

“Why am I more exhausted today than a couple days ago?” Kaiya asked her friends as they headed towards their next destination on the 2nd. “It’s pretty weird, right? It’s weird.”

Victor felt the same way. He hated the long conversations and abhorred whenever there was miscommunication or some old bastard was being stubborn. “I dunno, man, we studied to be Slayers and not politicians. I might be strong and charming and all that, but I don’t have the gift of gab.”

The two girls stared at him weirdly.

“Gift of gab, you know the phrase—?” They shook their heads, “—you’re a great speaker. You know how to talk. How to get people to listen?””

“Oh.”

“I see.”

“And speaking of speakers, y’think you can handle this one, Chunhua?”

“Me?” Chunhua questioned, eyebrows deepened. “I don’t have this gift of gab. And English is not my first language. You and Kaiya are more fluent; Kaiya’s a native speaker, almost.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely the least qualified to handle this conversation,” declared Kaiya, and she wasn’t wrong. She’d stutter or forget what she was saying half-way through.

Victor added, “And I think you’ll be better than me—“

“No—“

“Why not? Just take the bullet for us!” For me! I don’t wanna do it!

“Because I don’t want to speak with them just like you two!” Chunhua insisted and this was the first time Victor had seen an angry splash of red on her face. Actually it was sort of cute.

But this was a disappointing outcome. So instead Victor groaned and dramatically wiped the frustration off his face. “My second-best idea is this: we could do a comedy routine where we take turns speaking, how about that?”

The girls, obviously, did not like the plan. And they continued to bicker over who'd be the one to take the lead while their responsible and well-respected professor hung them out to dry. They couldn't come to a conclusion before they arrived at the destination in question, one of the military bases within the Encampment: Camp Primary.

Wasn’t different from the other bases that they had been to. Just smaller in size but more densely packed. But unlike other bases, they did not have a Centerpiece behind them, pumping out a constant stream of magic to keep the barrier up.

“I’m not speaking,” stated Victor as they stepped through the open gates, passing a patrol of black-armored policemen. A leashed metal dog sniffed at their feet. Terrifying. Today’s technology was sometimes terrifying.

“I’m not speaking either,” adamantly said Chunhua.

“I’m silent as a coal mine,” finished Kaiya.

“What—? No, mime. You’re silent as a mime, and y’know what that might not be a bad idea after all—“ Victor was suddenly shoulder-shoved into Kaiya by an asshole who didn’t see where the fuck they were going. “Oi, asshole!”

A black-haired man sneered over his grimy metal shoulderpad. Something only Slayers would wear. Behind him were two other ones. Older guys—had more experience. “Stand out of the fuckin’ way then, kid.”

Victor clenched his teeth and stared at the senior like he was going to commit murder. It was one thing to push him but another to knock him into Kaiya.

These guys were American judging from their accents. Like him.

His glaring caused the Three Musketeers of assholes to stop in their tracks, and Blue Cape challenged him by a narrowing of his eyes. “Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—what? Fucking what? Look at something else, you fucking beetle and fuck right off. We’re doing something here—”

“I dunno, you pushed me into my friend here.“ Victor pointed at Kaiya but she didn’t want to involve herself in this, nor Chunhua, but honestly? Victor needed to let off some steam.

“I pushed you into your friend—?”

“Yeah, you did—“

“So what, kid? So what—?”

“So what? I want an apology—!”

“An apology! He—“ The asshole turned to his friends, “—this kid wants an apology. I swear on my mother, these fucking colleges churn out little shits who think they own the world. The only ones who’d want a dick-measuring contest in a middle of a fucking outbreak!”

“And who the fuck are you then, huh?!” Victor rushed forward with hands grabbing at him but their fingers slipped on his armor, unable to hold him back.

The man clattered his teeth, whispered something to his friends, before doing the same. But he moved faster. With more conviction.

Victor said again, “Who the hell are you—?!”

A foot was driven square into his chest and he fell flat on his ass, sliding back a couple feet to the girls.

“Take a fucking hint and back off—!”

A sharp crack rattled between the two opposing groups. The Slayer's head was cocked to the side, eyes wide more out of shock than pain. In fact he didn’t seem to be that hurt. Which was a surprise considering Alexander was the one who threw that punch, but it only went to show the rank differences between them.

Alexander let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his knuckles. The other two were ready to pounce but held themselves back. Because like the Slayer, they were taken aback by his sudden appearance.

An uncharacteristic laugh hissed through Alexander’s teeth. Like the laugh he’d had before he took on ten Apocalyptics. “I’ve wanted to do that for years, Jackhammer. Remember when you threw me out the dor that one time? Or socked me 'lightly' in the jaw?"

Jackhammer nodded, touching the spot where Alexander had punched him and shooting a thumbs-up. “I went easy on ya. Had to. Your head would’ve popped like a balloon. I can do that now.”

“Yeah, it’d save me the fucking bullshit.” Alexander put his hands on his hips, briefly turning to his team behind him. Leona was helping Victor to his feet, and pretty much everyone was confused about what was going on. Ignoring that, his gaze shot towards the other two. “Sledge, Crowbar—you assholes holding up okay?”

“Fuck no,” said Sledge. “We’re knee-deep in an outbreak and the city’s going to hell, how the fuck you think we’re doing?”

Crowbar patted his brother’s shoulder. “You’ve grown up a lot since the last time we saw you, Alex. How old were you then?”

“Eighteen, I think. Since we last met. Twenty-three now.” Alexander’s face scrunched up. “And yet after all these years, even a woman who crawled out of a rat’s ass wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

An outraged laugh creaked through Jackhammer’s teeth. His laugh never changed either. Sounded like a drowning cat that was also choking on a hairball. “And you still got that tongue of yours, eh kid? Twenty-three but you’re acting like the piece of shit we know and love. But this?” He motioned to Alexander’s aesthetic. “I like the new look. Genuinely, I’m not fucking with you. Figured you’d bust some skulls in like your father eventually.”

“Hey Alex,” Victor called to him from behind. “What the hell’s going on, man? You know these assholes?”

“He does,” replied Jackhammer. “In fact, he’s the reason why I hate kids like you so much.”

“Yeah yeah, shut the hell up, Jack.” Alexander stood at the side so he could face both groups. “Of all the people you could’ve met, Vic, you ran into the Third Paradise of Oasis Guild—”

“But they call us ‘Construction Crew’ if our codenames aren’t enough of a dead giveaway,” Jackhammer commented, taking the explanation off of Alexander’s hands, “we’re family. Sledge and Crowbar over there are my cousins, and they’re brothers.”

“Mhm, where’s Drill and Chisel? They with Prominence?” asked Alexander, looking around Camp Primary for a lady with muscles as big as her head and a skinny bastard with a prosthetic leg. But all he saw were dozens of people staring at them, attracted by the commotion. Several policemen had their fingers hovering over thick triggers.

Sledge answered coldly, “They’re dead.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Searching the expressions of the other two men, he confirmed what Sledge said was true. Even considering his history between these thugs, Jackhammer especially, he felt awful for them. First having their reputations dragged through the mud by Oasisgate and Wrench’s arrest, then this. It’d been a rough few years for them.

Jackhammer sighed and noticed the same policemen on edge, quickly waving his hands and proclaiming that there wasn’t an issue anymore. It took several attempts for them to move on, warranting a “Fidgety fucks.” from the senior. “Yeah, don’t force yourself to give us your condolences. We know, you’d rather see us dead, I get it.”

“No, I mean it. It’s a shame.” Alexander crossed his arms, thinking back to the chaos that was Oasisgate all those years ago. Construction Crew were thugs, absolutely, but they were angels in comparison to their peers. And they had actual principles. Stuck by them instead of dictating them. Most of the Crew anyway. Wrench didn’t, that was why he was arrested and sitting in prison for a long time. Besides, in your shithole of a guild, I wish death only for a few people there. You were never on my list.

“Yeah, whatever.” Jackhammer licked his lips trying to ignore the grief seeping into his eyes and looked between the Baptists and Alexander. Thoughts ran through his face but he made no attempt in vocalizing them. Instead he seemed to have something else to say, some witty insult or a jab at the younger man’s character, but stopped when a distant hard voice came from deeper within Camp Primary.

"What is going on here?"

Alexander stiffened like a pole hearing that voice.

Jackhammer uttered a tired “Fuck me!” and whispered closely into Alexander’s ear with an odd tint of camaraderie, “I bet you’ve missed the Bastard of Oasis, eh?”

Alexander didn’t have to physically look to know it was him. He had this sort of sixth sense whenever the famed Bastard of Oasis was in the area. Hadn’t felt it activate in a long time but like a switch, it flipped right on without wear and tear. He could never mistake the feeling of his stomach turning rightly inside out with greater disgust than seeing a diseased rat. And out from the corner of his eye, the same apprehension was seen on his teammates who were whispering to each other, gossiping.

“What—?” the Bastard began, loud and dramatic in an attempt to establish respect and authority, but it was a shame he lost the former permanently, “—do we have here? I’ve heard someone assaulted one of my friends.”

An irritated click left Jackhammer’s mouth, rattled between his teeth. Even in Oasis, the Bastard was loathed.

That man hadn’t changed. Not one bit. Still loved to play games. Acting like there was a camera on him at all times. He wasn’t wrong. Word spread fast in this city nowadays. So naturally he had to stride in, probably with a rehearsed walk he’d practice a thousand times before, automatically assuming the moral high ground and feigning ignorance because there was always a time to rebuild reputation.

But it was all fake. An acting gig.

Because Alexander knew that he knew that he punched the shit out of Jackhammer.

The same click that Jackhammer had hissed through Alexander’s mouth. Briefly he met Leona’s eyes and mouthed, “Get Gul here.” Otherwise, he’ll go fucking crazy. His hostility did not go unnoticed by the rest of the Alumnus, and they silently prepared for another fight.

Now, playing along to the Bastard’s little games, Alexander clapped his hands on his sides and held them there, felt his holstered [Lapaz] rattle doing so, and said as he turned around, “I didn’t know you were here...” Sage completely forgot to tell me. I don’t blame her but it’ll be nice to have a warning, yeah? Alexander met his smiling yet cold eyes. “Prominence.”

Prominence, the Vice Guild Master of Oasis Guild from across the Pacific in the land of the free. After four-to-five years he hadn’t changed physically. Maybe a wrinkle or two here and there, but he still had the face worthy of the Bastard of Oasis. He was the image of an old man snake painting himself as an angel, but plaster was peeling. Alexander spotted gray hairs poking out from his dirty blonde mop, unkempt from the outbreak, unable to be dyed back to its vibrant color, and his beard too was getting long and unattractive. But maybe that was intentional: in a warzone, looking fresh was not a good appearance to have especially amongst the rifles and swords.

A kind smile with a full set of skinny whites greeted Alexander but those dark eyes told a different story. Nothing but resentment in them. “I didn’t know you’ve become quite a celebrity since we last said our goodbyes,” he said, cool and smooth.

If Alexander had one good thing to say about him, he had a great voice. Perfect for manipulation.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his mouth. Thank God that Thea isn’t here. “I’ve, uh, I’ve did some moving up in the world.” And in your opinion, you did the same. But that can’t be further from the truth.

Prominence smiled wider and looked beyond Alexander to find the Baptists behind him. On edge. “So I’ve noticed. I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I—?”

“No, no, that’s not necessary. You’re the real celebrity here. Everyone knows who you are—”

“But I don’t know them. We’re both leaders here, representatives for our men. If we’ll be working together—” I’ll shoot myself in the head right now, “—I ought to familiarize myself with your people, [Silver-Eyed Demon]. You already know mine.” Unfortunately, but I’ll take them over you a hundred times over.

Alexander was about to retort when a hand fell on his shoulder and vicely gripped it. Pain shot through his arm and into his foot on that side, causing him to grit his teeth and hiss like a feral cat. Prominence released the hold and patted his shoulder a few times like an uncle to his nephew, approaching the Baptists.

“Don’t be alarmed, I won’t bite. Conqueror and I have a small history together when he used to live in High Home,” Prominence succinctly explained but his words were not effective on them. “And when I used to be a respectable HO in Oasis. Now, I’m honored to be its Vice Guild Master. It’s good to see he made close friends here in Ordo. Connections. I’ve always known he’s special. I’ve believed in him when he was at his worst.” And lie as easily as you breathe.

He paused, giving the space for the Baptists to introduce themselves.

Nobody said anything and for a very good reason. His eyes narrowed momentarily before settling themselves on the beautiful amber-haired woman standing at the front with Victor, and there he made no attempt to hide his perversion. He was taunting Alexander. Taunting him like the conversation he had at the beginning of the outbreak.

“You must be Leona Ahn,” Prominence said and gestured to her, putting the spotlight on her tenseness. “Like the rest of the Baptists, I’ve heard so many things about you. About your parents. About your accomplishments. You’ve found an amazing man in Conqueror, better than me.” You aren’t wrong about that. “You’ve accepted him even with his flaws—”

“What’s your mission here anyway?” Alexander cut in after biting the inside of his cheek, curbing the fire boiling inside his core.

Prominence’s laugh had a satisfied growl to it but he did not turn around and address Alexander, instead those dark eyes continued to remain steady on Leona. “Orders from a Major General. What about you, Conqueror? I thought you were stationed at Grendel Arsenal with the Martials.”

“We were called here by Sage,” he answered truthfully. “Taking care of something pretty important for her before Seraph gives us our next orders. Which means we ought to go our separate ways and do our jobs.”

“There’s one problem we need to solve first, Conqueror.” Prominence turned around and suddenly he was standing in front of him, just less than a foot away. Alexander’s breath hitched and his heart thumped wildly inside his chest, surprised, almost thought he’d get run over. “Someone assaulted one of my men. I think an apology is in order—”

Jackhammer intervened, “Boss, let’s just fuck off—”

“By ignoring this transgression, it hurts the morale of my men.” No, it hurts your pride. And you just want to hear those sweet words coming out of my mouth.

Alexander cocked a side-glance to Jackhammer whom he interrupted just now. “Why don’t you ask your ‘friends’ yourself, Vice Guild Master? See if they’ve been wronged because the way I see it, we’re even. They got something in and so have we.”

Prominence stepped closer and leaned in so his words could growl into his ear. “You need to remind yourself of your place, Pseudo. It doesn’t matter what you are. It’s customary to listen to a Vice Guild Master and obey him with a ‘Sir!’ at the end of everything you say. Respect, Alexander, because clearly your parents and uncle haven’t taught you any. And a lot of things can be done to a disrespectful subordinate.”

“I would like to see real action with those words then, VGM. It’s just a question if you can handle the consequences of disrespecting Kosmos and Seraph. The ones who could turn a big and strong man like you into a bitch who yaps 'Sir! Sir! Sir!'.”

For once, the Bastard did not have anything to say.

“Conqueror!” called a distressed voice behind him, at the entrance of Camp Primary. He looked over his shoulder, the same one that Prominence had grabbed, and saw Hei-ran there, sweating bullets. That was his cue to leave.

“I need to take care of business,” Alexander finished and backed away but not before having the last word: “Kindly go fuck yourself, sir.” He motioned to the Baptists. “Let’s go!”

Without saying goodbye to the remnants of Construction Crew, his teammates scurried behind him and regrouped with their high-ranker, who took them down the street in no particular direction.

After some distance was gained, Hei-ran stammered, “What exactly happened that warranted an SOS from Leo?”

Alexander answered, “I’ve met old friends from Oasis Guild. More specifically, I ran into Prominence.”

Kaiya asked everyone, “He’s the one who committed adultery, right?”

There was a sigh leaking through Victor’s teeth. “A lot. He committed a lot of adultery.”

“More than the Files suggested.” Because he’s the one who blew the whistle in the first place.

Leona added on, “And Construction Crew? I’m pretty sure one of them was arrested for statutory rape.”

Chunhua’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh dear.”

“Don’t be surprised. That piece of shit guild was the center of all sorts of depravity,” said Alexander, wanting to forget the memories and forget everything he’d read in the Files.

“And how do you know Prominence exactly?” Victor asked him. "Better question: how the fuck d'you even know all these people?"

“It’s a long story like most fucking things, okay? For all intents and purposes, forget what happened and pretend they aren’t here.” I need to listen to that advice myself. “Let’s just move on and hope a Comet crashes down on us, yeah?”

Victor hummed but then said, “Yeah obviously. But uh, we still need to go back. We gotta talk to someone in Camp Primary for Sage.”

“Motherfucker—!”