"Are you sure you don't want anything to drink? It might be a while before he gets here."

"Ah... well, I suppose it is getting quite late... well, not that he'll care when I come home...", the boy whispered, half speaking to himself. "Fine. I'll have something. Thank you."

It was strange.

This woman was his enemy moments before, yet after she had been cornered she suddenly became compliant.

Someone who was so irritated with even the slightest bit of resistance had suddenly been humbled as soon as her position was no longer advantageous.

'I suppose at the end of the day... it was chaos which controlled her.'

The woman left the room promptly, heading to the kitchen to prepare something as the boy was left in thought.

'The chaos behind someone who isn't under the control of anyone. A student who has nothing to lose... and can thus ruin her son without even considering the repercussions.'

Even for those who were on top of society, the public was always their biggest enemy.

Those who held onto power would be forced to protect it, and the moment someone threatened to take away that power, they would be instilled into a cycle of compliance.

The reason why Mrs. Hina had been able to act the way she did during the 'trial' was exactly for this reason, and Randov learned from this.

She was not the Principal of a school, but rather a newly hired teacher.

Being fired would put a mark on her record, but if she had another job lined up elsewhere such a thing would not matter.

The Principal, on the other hand, could not afford to anger someone who held great political power.

'But I do wonder why someone who holds such power would live in a dump like this City?'

While the home of this woman was better than most, it wasn't anything special.

Even so, based on the expensive looking decor on the inside, this woman was clearly living below her means.

It was likely that she could move into a more prosperous neighborhood, but for whatever reason she hadn't.

'Why?'

"Here you are."

Placing a freshly brewed cup of tea before the boy, the woman took a sip of her own as she sat down, glancing at her golden watch as she waited.

"Ah... thank you."

Bringing the cup to his lips, the boy relaxed slightly.

It was beginning to snow outside, and the cold had nipped at him, however the warmth of the drink spread through his body as he consumed it.

'Perhaps... she isn't such a bad person after all.'

'Perhaps... she is merely overprotective of her son.'

'She likes to spoil him, and as a result he turned out like he did... and maybe she didn't know what to do about it... so she instead started denying his behavior.'

Swallowing the liquid, the boy placed the cup down.

"Thank you. It was delicious."

"Is that so? That's wonderful, I suppose."

Glancing away, the woman didn't seem to care in the slightest, despite being complimented.

However it was then that the creaking of the door gathered the attention of both of them.

"Ah, you're finally here. We've been waiting."

"You know how difficult it is to come here. Ah... ah... who is this?"

An unfamiliar voice.

Turning to witness the person at the door, Randov was immediately filled with confusion - for standing there wearing a suit and sunglasses was none other than a grown man.

He was well built, though his muscles were hidden by his clothes, and he stormed into the room, taking a seat immediately.

"This is the boy who... is having issues with our child."

"Hmm... I see. Well... that does sound like a problem. Is this something I need to fix?"

"That's correct."

The two had this quick interaction, at which Randov was caught off guard.

Sitting up, he immediately took a fighting pose as he realized that the situation had changed.

"You... what are you planning?"

Aiming his words at the woman, his question was met with a smile.

"Bringing this man here... I assume he's Brian's father, your husband... then, you weren’t talking to Brian just now?"

"I never said that, now did I?"

"Ah, this one is pretty nosy and quite rude. I can see why our boy would have a problem with him. I guess it's time to go."

Standing up, the man approached Randov.

"What are you..."

However in that instant, his vision became blurry.

Everything seemed to melt around him, and eventually the man standing before him was reduced to a pile of gel.

And then, his vision went black.

A muffled thud resounded in his ears as the boy fell to the ground, though even this he could barely perceive.

Thus, Randov fell unconscious.

----

"Ahem... are you awake yet?"

"UGH!!"

Thrusting awake, the boy's senses all of a sudden switched on as he felt the constraining bondage of ropes tied around him.

He was in a chair, completely tied up and unable to move even a finger.

"What are you-"

"Shh. I'm the one asking the questions."

Bringing his hand to his lips, the man who sat before him smiled lightly as the light flickered above.

They were in an interrogation room, and the man sat backwards on a chair as he looked down upon the boy with arrogance.

"I learned the situation while you were unconscious. But I never thought someone could be so foolish and smart at the same time... and a kid, at that. Well... I suppose I should tell you your mistakes, shouldn't I?"

"Let me out of here!! Where am I!?"

"As I said... I am the one asking the questions."

Standing up from the chair as the man walked behind the boy, he smirked as he gave off a confident air.

"You probably thought that you were just trying to get a kid to stop bullying you... so you dug up some dirt on him, and brought it before his mother in order to force her to listen to you. You wanted to solve the issue on your own, so you didn't go to any adults for assistance, and instead took things into your own hands. Is that not... correct?"

"That... that's correct. But why do you care?", Randov stated with irritation.

"That... was not your mistake. Solving issues on your own is a good thing. It truly is. However... it was quite unfortunate for you that the target you picked happens to be one who is protected."

His cold footsteps echoed through the room as the man spoke, not halting for a moment as he explained from behind the boy.

"You obtained incriminating evidence, which, if posted online, would destroy the reputation of the boy at hand. Because of this, if we laid even a single hand on you, there would be the threat of such a video being posted by another person who perhaps you prepared to release the video, should you have not returned unharmed. This... is one scenario. However... not once did you ever make this threat. Therefore, am I correct in assuming that this isn't the case?"

Randov broke out into a cold sweat as the man blatantly exposed his mistake.

'Should I have... done such a thing?', he thought.

"Ah, that reaction of yours is enough to tell me everything I need to know. You're dumber than I thought. HOWEVER. Even in the case that you had made such a threat, I wouldn't have hesitated to take you to this place. You want to know where you are, no?"

Walking before the boy, the man spread out his arms as he introduced himself.

"This is the Bureau of Antipatriotic investigation. Right now, you are within one of our underground facilities."

Seeing that the child didn't seem to understand, the man laughed for a moment as he corrected himself.

"Well... to put it simply, I am a member of the secret police who deals with those who would try to promote COMMUNISM."

"Eh?"

Widening his eyes, Randov was filled with shock and surprise.

"If you're a police officer... then isn't this a major abuse of power? This is just kidnapping, isn't it? And if this is a state facility, then surely this must be against the rules! After all, the only reason you've taken me here is because I have evidence against your son!!"

Shouting this out, Randov accused the man, however these accusations were brushed off in an instant.

"Randov... Randov Randov Randov... it is true that you did something to threaten my son. And it is true that if I were to bring you to this place on that charge, that it would be a major abuse of power."

With a chuckle, the man pushed up his sunglasses as he paced.

"But that isn't the case... is it now?"

"What... do you-"

"Nerokov. You know this name, do you not?"

The bald boy could not keep a straight expression as the name of his late caretaker was mentioned.

"So you do. Yes... yes, it's all coming together. A mercenary who works for the Soviets... infiltrating the Stronvardian government in order to relay information to their government... pretending to promote our economy while secretly working for another. One cannot serve two masters, you know."

With the shake of his finger, the man brought his face close to the boy as he revealed everything.

"You were brought into this country as an illegal immigrant by that man... and as such you were raised by a SPY. And if you were raised by a spy... then wouldn't that mean it is all the more likely that you yourself have been trained as one?"

"Wait a minute... wait-"

"No, I will not wait. After all... look at how capable you are. Look at the things you've been doing. If you were not raised strangely, could you possibly have obtained such evidence on my son for such a thing? Would you possibly have taken such measures in order to find each and every loophole around the system to obtain what you desire? What are you hiding, boy?"

Bringing his face so close that Randov could feel the warmth of his breath, the boy was spooked as he was accused of things which went far beyond anything he could possibly be capable of.

"I'm... not hiding anything..."

"Perhaps you aren't. Perhaps you’re just an innocent boy who has gotten wrapped up in a bad situation. Perhaps Nerokov never taught you anything, or perhaps he intended to tell you when you were older."

Retracting his face in an instant with a hearty laugh, the man sat down once again as he crossed one leg over the other, leaning forward as he rested one elbow on his knee.

"But... do you think I can merely take your word for that?"

"Don't I... have rights? You... you can't just..."

"Rights? Don't be so silly."

Closing his eyes as he nodded his head, the man held himself back from laughing.

"When someone threatens the nation, the rights which this nation has granted them DISAPPEAR."

"That's-"

"And were you not an illegal immigrant in the first place? What rights could you possibly have?"

The more he spoke, the more the boy realized that his situation was worsening by the moment.

What had seemed to be flawlessly going his way had been destroyed.

From the moment he had awakened in this place, all hope of victory was lost.

Yet that was not the only thing which was lost.

Instead, complete and utter defeat seemed imminent.

Inevitable.

Everything just became worse and worse.

A tear dripped down the eye of the boy as he realized this.

"I... I..."

"I have every right to lock you up for the rest of your life here and now.", the man stated.

Clenching his heart, the boy felt his breathing become rapid as his blood pressure increased.

His heart rate heightened, and after moments he found himself hyperventilating as he panicked.

Was this the end of his life?

"Now then... why don't you give me one good reason why I shouldn't?"

These words cut into the boy, yet at the same time they grounded him.

Slowing his breathing, the boy found the tears rushing down his eyes as he spoke, his voice crackling in defeat.

"The video... the video... it will be... automatically... posted... heh... heh..."

Wheezing this statement out, the boy made a bluff.

"That... that's right... the video... your son... heh... hah... heh... hehehe..."

His eyes bloodshot, the boy began to laugh as he looked up to the man with an expression of madness.

"Your son will be RUINED if you don't let me go."

"Wrong."

Holding up a hand, the man denied the boy, at which a look of despair overcame him.

"N- no!! I'm... I'm not lying! I'm not bluffing!!! I'm not-"

"Taking a hostage will never work on me. Do you know why?"

Standing up once more, the man removed his sunglasses to reveal two X-like scars across both of his white eyes.

He was blind.

"In order to successfully take a hostage... there must be three hostages. Three is the special number."

Taking a comb out of the pocket, the man began to fix his hair - which was already cut short enough to the point where such a comb barely made a difference.

"The first hostage is to be killed. This will show your opponents that you are serious about killing your hostages, and that you won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

'What is this man talking about?'

Confusion and fear filled the mind of Randov as the man spoke of things which he did not understand, yet the man did not bother to wait for Randov's mind to catch up.

"So you kill the first one, and you have two left. Why is it important that you have two left after killing the first one? That much is easy."

With a smirk, the man pushed his sunglasses back on once again, covering his scarred eyes as he bore a pristine white smile.

"If you only have one, then you can only use it to THREATEN people. Yet the moment you kill that hostage... you've lost."

'I... don't know why he's saying this.'

'Why is he talking about hostages?'

'What does that have to do with anything?'

'Is he saying that I am his hostage?'

"That's why you need two. Because if you only have one... then your opponent already knows for a fact that you won't kill them. No... it's not that you won't... but that you CAN'T."

His chin was grabbed.

His hands shivering, more tears formed in the eyes of the boy as he was lifted up, chair and all, as his neck was strained and his ability to regulate his breathing ceased.

"And yet you... only had one hostage."

Crash!!

Thrown across the room, the boy felt blood drip down his forehead as the chair was smashed to pieces, and he was sent crashing to the floor.

"What would you have done as soon as you revealed the video online? You would have ruined my son, for sure... but what then? Did you really have no plan? Ah... but that is perhaps why you tried to NEGOTIATE."

With a smirk, the man laughed.

"Yes... perhaps it was your subconscious, trying to protect you from such a situation. However..."

Bang!

At that moment, something happened.

A firearm was shot, and the squishing sound of a body dropping to the ground was heard.

Wiping the blood and tears from his eyes, the boy struggled to view the scene before him, at which he opened his jaw wide in horror.

The man was dead.

Shot straight through the skull, his head had exploded in a rain of flesh and blood.

And now, he lay dead on the floor.

"However... you made one mistake."

Then, another voice spoke up.

A voice which Randov knew very well.

Walking into that room was a man.

A sniper rifle on his back, and a pistol in his hand, the man blew the smoke from his weapon as he entered the room with a smile - blood covering his clothes.

"You did well, kid. But you made the mistake of giving your opponent a chance to negotiate with you... instead of pulling the trigger before they could even do anything."

With a smile, the man pulled a knife from his side as he cut the ropes of the boy, freeing him.

"That's the job of a sniper. But it looks like you were trying to be a diplomat."

Shaking his head in disapproval, the boy was freed from his bonds, however the man did not help him up.

Leaving the room without waiting, he made one final statement as he exited.

"If you're going to take that route... then everything is going to be a lot more difficult."

----

Six years had passed.

Randov was now 16.

He attended school every day.

He studied hard, and did well.

The boy known as Brian had transferred away on that day, and Randov never knew what happened to him.

However he never forgot the events of that day.

They stuck within his mind, and on that day Randov made a decision.

'I... am not going to negotiate anymore.'

'If anyone goes against me... then I'll just have to become a blizzard.'

'A blizzard so powerful that it swallows everything up in its flow.'

'And anything that tries to go against that flow... will be redirected.'

----

"Plans have changed. Things... have taken a turn for the worse. And it looks like I'm going to have to take my leave."

These were the words that Krovak spoke to Randov on one particular day.

"You're leaving? Just like that? Six years of acting as my guardian, and you're going to just up and leave?"

"Well, yeah."

Krovak had never particularly shown much concern for Randov, yet even so, he had provided a roof over his head.

Just like Nerokov.

The two were different. Far different.

Nerokov may have been working all the time, but during the time in which Randov was with him, he could feel it - that Nerokov truly cared about him.

As if he were a grandfather taking care of a child for his dead son, the man treated Randov like his own grandchild.

However Krovak treated him differently.

On the outside, the man treated him coldly, acting as if he didn't care - however Randov understood that this was not exactly true.

He was preparing him.

Forcing Randov to create his own solutions, lending aid only when it was absolutely necessary, Krovak had protected Randov in the most crucial moments, allowing him to survive day after day without issue.

It was because of Krovak that Randov had been able to escape that day when he had been arrested by the secret police, and from that day forward the man continued to teach him in the same hands off manner as before.

He wanted Randov to solve his own problems.

"Commander has called me back, and I follow his orders. After all... there WILL come a day when the new King rises and takes control of Joraten. Even if that day... is not within my lifetime."

"Why am I here? Why did you bother raising me? What does your Commander want of me?"

Randov asked these questions, yet the man became silent.

Then, as he walked towards that door, the man shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you think I could ever possibly understand the workings of that man's mind?"

With this, the man opened the door as he walked out.

"Don't die. You've already learned enough. Go and become someone so great that our Commander finds you. And when he does... I'm sure he will give you your purpose."

With this statement, the door closed on the boy.

For a moment, Randov was left in silence, however that silence was soon broken.

Rushing over to that door, Randov grit his teeth as he grabbed it, swinging it open once more.

"How can you-"

However, as he opened it, the man was gone.

'How can you just leave like this after everything?'

For a second time in his life, Randov felt as if he had lost a father.

No... for a third time.

Grabbing his forehead, the boy wrinkled his brows, however no tears came out.

Looking up with a fierce determination, the boy instead nodded to himself.

'I see.'

Taking a deep breath, he came to a decision.

'I suppose I'll have to do everything for myself from this point on.'

----

"Welcome welcome welcome!!! How exciting it is, young boy! To think that you would be entering the workforce at such a young age... only 16, and yet alone and forced to provide for yourself... a dramatic story, and yet I'm certain that you'll fit perfectly into the FAMILY that we have here at this Company."

Randov found himself in front of a sleazy old man at an interview.

Unable to even purchase a suit for himself, he wore his normal clothes.

He had no idea what to even put on his resume, so he simply told his story - or at least a more presentable version of it - to his potential employer.

"Is... is that so?"

"Oh yes... yes yes yes... Randov... that sounds like a Joratian name, doesn't it? And the way you speak... could it be that you are from there?"

How many interviews had Randov attended at this point?

Too many to count.

'You're only 16? I can't hire someone like that.'

'Would you even be able to work?'

'It's illegal to hire someone that young. Are you trying to make me go out of business?'

However, he was presented with a roadblock.

Yet despite this roadblock, he tried and tried - until he found one particular man who didn't care the slightest about his age.

"Everyone always asks that. I was raised in this country all my life."

"Is that so?? How strange... I wonder why you have such an accent then? Perhaps you learned from your parents? Even so, being surrounded by Stronvardians, you would think that your accent would lessen... well, no matter."

Holding out his hand, the man presented it to the boy, who reached forward reluctantly to shake it.

Grabbing him firmly, the boy responded to the aggressive shake with an even more aggressive hold.

The two stared off at one another for a moment as a fire lit between them.

He did not know why, but for whatever reason, a competitive flame ignited at that moment.

Gripping firmly, the two merely stared each other down, neither of them letting go.

"You're hired, son."

"Are you... going to let go?"

"Oh... WHERE are my manners? Of course."

Immediately the man let go, pulling his hand back as he reached for a bottle of hand sanitizer, lathering himself with it brazenly.

"Now then... when can you start?"

----