"Lucien, that scoundrel! How dare he choose to be ill at such a crucial moment."
A woman in her late twenties with smooth, black, silky hair cursed softly under her breath. She shifted restlessly in the rear seat of a black SUV, swirling wine from the goblet hung loosely around her fingers. Next to her was Damien, a muscular man assigned to escort her through the impending chaos at their destination. He held a pen tightly, clicking it repeatedly as the ballpoint shifted in and out.
Damien had once vowed to his boss never to leave the side of his mistress during times of turmoil or whenever he was entirely absent. Although this meant parting with his family, he took this role to heart and aimed to demonstrate his utmost loyalty.
Raindrops trickled down the tinted windows, quickly turning the busy airport into a foggy haze as they drove down the highway.
The driver, who had been mumbling unclear words at his seat, suddenly parked the car. He tapped the earbud in his left ear and ended a pressing call, exhaling deeply as he spoke to the two figures behind him.
"Ma'am, it really happened. Mr. Lucien Valetine…" He hesitated, casting a careful glance at Damien, his eyes mixed with terror and shock.
"Spit it out," she insisted.
"Sir… Sir Lucien was declared dead at 6:42 this morning in his penthouse…due to some sort of cardiac arrest."
Something in the air shifted after that statement. Damien, though still calm and reserved as ever, couldn't help but crush the pen in his hand. Its shards raining to the surface floor of the vehicle.
However Kara remained quiet, staring out at the highway while sipping her wine, seemingly unfazed—as if the news had no consequence for her. She had come to check on her supposed ill lover, and now he was suddenly proclaimed dead?
"How absurd," she remarked, finally directing her attention toward Damien yet deliberately avoiding his eyes. "Can a master of illusions truly perish from a mortal injury?"
A flash of lightning illuminated the distant sky, followed by a thunderclap that seemed to respond to her.
"I seriously doubt it, mistress."
Kara swirled what little wine remained and gulped it down, releasing a contented sigh. She placed the goblet in a designated area around the mid section of its collections, where it locked away securely. Then proceeded to engage in a better conversation, her face slick with audacity.
"What are your plans onward?"
"Well, from what I've learned from Lucien," Damien replied, glancing at the shattered pieces of his pen and tapping a briefcase that sat beside him. "Always strike last. And strike hardest."
They shared a knowing brief smile.
"I don't trust rumors, I need to see for myself. Take us to Central City," Kara instructed, tapping the driver's seat. "Head to The General House."
"Yes, ma'am."
— ✦ —
Breaking news from Times Square: Following the passing of the young innovator and financial mogul Lucien Valetine—the founder of the Valetine Exchange and alleged leader of the V Syndicate—authorities have confirmed he died at 6:42 a.m. this morning.
A reporter's voice resonated through every communication device—radios in cafés, a massive display screen of labelled Times square, even an old TV in a shabby diner.
Sources suggest Mr. Valetine succumbed to sudden cardiac arrest in his private penthouse overlooking the Harbor District. Emergency personnel arrived shortly afterward, but their attempts to save him were futile.
The footage shifted to scenes illustrating the fallout from the announcement: men in suits deliberating over the reduction in stock prices, the Valetine Exchange shares plummeting, civilians gazing at screens as if the economy had just experienced a heart attack.
Security officials have not provided any comments regarding the investigation, although unverified video footages suggests Valetine's body was removed under heavy guard after the incident.
The government of GUC has yet to release an official statement. However, the Ministry of Finance has cautioned about potential instability in the Exchange market following this tragic occurrence.
"Oh my goodness, is this really happening?" a woman dressed formally exclaimed, holding a hot cup of coffee.
"It's certainly getting crazy, I can assure you," a man replied.
"With the foundation of the V Syndicate removed, there will be considerable upheaval in the upcoming days," another person commented, taking a sip from their cup.
"Wonderful, another lockdown on the horizon."
….Rumors continue to escalate regarding the real circumstances of the death….
The reporter's voice carried on.
— ✦ —
The rain had tapered to light drizzles as the entrance gate of the headquarters groaned open. Armed security personnel scanned the surroundings, vigilant for any unwanted visitors.
The SUV rushed past a throng of reporters and news teams. They surged towards the vehicle, but the security detail held them at bay, maintaining restricted zones.
In the midst of the pandemonium, flashes from cameras went off continuously and hushed inquiries echoed. Kara stepped out of the vehicle, with Damien guiding the way and security staff trailing closely behind.
"Miss Kara, what can you share about Sir Lucien's sudden death?"
"Can you clarify that he's not a syndicate leader associated with the murder of Karl Augustine?"
"How do you intend to manage rival sectors of the Valetine Exchange in light of this incident?"
None of the inquiries resonated with Kara. She had no time to discuss the Valetine Exchange's impact on Central City or how Lucien had shaped the financial and marketing industries nationwide. Not when she hadn't seen him for two years.
She made her way toward the tall building topped with the message "The V Sees All." Her hand gripped the fabric of her shiny dark dress, shining under the gaze of the recording devices and cameras, as her heels clicked on the slick marble floor.
The grand front door appeared inviting, but Kara hesitated mid-step, as if the threshold beckons her to a discovery she wasn't prepared to face. Her smartphone buzzed three times: a familiar notification vibrating against her hand.
With a quick look, she unlocked the device, revealing a message from an unknown sender that nearly caused her to trip in her heels:
"The Dead don't remain Dead. Miss Kara."
In the shadows of the estate area, a figure clad in a black coat lowered their phone.