Five more days have passed, and we've been working on slowly distributing the drugs to our clients. Antonio did an excellent job with convincing Leon and Shushi to allow us to handle it, so, we've been replacing the real products with energy drink fakes in the basement that Pierre had located for us, already stocked up and ready to go. I've sent him to handle Quinn, The Smith Company, and Penelope, while Antonio handles Charles and I handle Naomi, who honestly, was a truly kind and sweet woman. She had walls of just drawings made by her clients for her, however, it was clear how long they were being unknowingly drugged as the contents of said pictures would progressively grow more somber, grim, and bloody.
She had told me she was growing worried, but understood that the world is in a pretty dark place right now and isn't especially experienced in psychiatry, so there's not much she could do.
Now, Antonio and I are meeting up to handle the most important client: The Red Orange Yellow Alliance.
I've also instructed Pierre to head straight to Qorboon upon finishing his deliveries and to research them further. Now, I sit in Pierre's truck by our meeting spot, waiting for Antonio to arrive and noticing our vehicle take shape off in the distance, growing larger with every passing second, occasionally cloaked by the drifting sands.
Once Antonio reaches me, we both hop out of our trucks and make our way for each other, awkwardly stopping a foot apart. We gaze at each other, our clothes sweated through and dusty as a breeze of sand blows between us. After a long moment, we decide to take Antonio's truck, heading straight for the borders where the no man's land between Rapard and Qorboon meet. The borders are unguarded, this specific patch of land spanning twenty kilometers; untouched and unbothered other than the occasional bit of trash rolling with the wind.
As we grow closer to our clients, their castle-like headquarters towers above us, piercing the sky as a storm begins to build, walls of orange, yellow, and red reigning over our eyes. We stop not far from the walls, soon being met with an army of guards in makeshift vehicles that appear as though they can survive nukes. They rush to exit their vehicles, half still remaining in their seats while the other head up to our truck, they're all wearing combinations of red, orange, and yellow, though not combining them.
"What brings you both here?" A man wearing solid orange speaks to Antonio, another wearing yellow standing by the door on my side and staring unmovingly at me.
Antonio doesn't put on an act, remaining serious and unbothered, "We're here for a delivery and to speak with our clients. I'm Dima, the leader of our warehouse."
"Strange, usually they send their low level runners, why are you here?"
"We have a new product we'd like to share with them, so we've decided to go to each of our clients individually this time around."
A red-dressed man walks up and pulls out a handheld device speaking into it, "Hello, boss, we have Dima from the warehouse here, he and his girlfriend would like to speak to the council regarding a new product they had created." Vague garbled gibberish plays out, followed by the man asking, "Did you bring samples?"
"Of course."
"Yes." He speaks into the machine again and a moment later the gates begin to open and we're ushered through, being shown where to park as we slowly follow three more yellow-clothed men. When we exit the truck, Antonio carrying a wooden crate of the switched out drugs in his arms, a team of six red men circle around our vehicle, weapons raised and prepared to defend as we're led away. The colourful castle is massive, with artificial lush green parks, high trees that provide excellent shade, and an archery court not much further from the entrance. We walk over a heavy wooden and steel bridge overtop of a moat swarming with crocodiles and biniers. (Fantasy piranhas, add to document).Their teeth are sharp and talons like strands of hair as they slice into all that surrounds them, the water tinted a mild red. We're led through the high walls, thick with layers of materials and encircled by at least ten armed men.
Once we finally reach the inside of the castle, we are met with two large, polished, golden staircases that lead up to a wide balcony, draping three flags—Rapard, Qorboon, and Duthious. There are also three hallways on the second floor, the left being Rapard, the right is Qorboon, and the center is Duthious. However, we are not brought upstairs, instead, we are led past the stairs and through a double set of doors, bringing us to a long tunnel, seemingly reinforced with steel. One of the guards removes a portion of his mask and scans his eye, quickly fixing it as the door slowly slides open, leading us into a bright, colourful throne room with thousands of seats and seven thrones, three yellow, three orange, one red. No one else is yet present as we take two seats near the front, the guards remaining close and watchful at all times.
Finally, after a couple of minutes of awkwardly waiting, a group of masked, elderly men in cloaks march silently past us, their movements and presence noiseless as they they their seats, steady and prepared for whatever it is we plan to provide them with.
The voice of one of the men comes out deep, methodical, and impossible to depict who it belongs to.
And that's when I notice the design of the room.
It's colourful and certainly reminiscent of the days of monarchy, with silk tapestries depicting past wars, flourishing architecture, and futuristic mechanical designs, but the corners of the room are shaped with strange spikes and grooves, with their true materials clearly masked by a type of paint that doesn't hinder its effects. This room is designed to be confusing and impossible to read.
Clever.
"We see that the people in charge have decided to personally pay us a visit due to a new drug? Do you have it on you?"
"Of course," Antonio reaches into his pocket, causing the guards to focus their weapons on him as they watch his movements. He pulls out a bottle of the brilliant blue drug, now replaced with a simple caffeinated electrolyte beverage, and hands it to one of the guards, who brings it over to the leaders. But they stop him before he can give it to them, instead one of them orders with a flick of their hand, "Drink it."
Without hesitation, the guard follows orders. Back to us, he removes his yellow mask, removes the cork, and chugs back the bottle, jittery and hands shaking as he slams his fist on his chest, choking down the liquid as the bubbles coat his throat. He burbs and bows and apologizes as he rushes to put his mask on, resuming his position, clenching his weapon tighter than before, unmoving as he stares us down. Like a trained weapon, the slightest move and he'll attack.
"What are the side and withdrawal effects?"
"Other than a mild headache, nothing," Antonio replies confidently, completely unbothered by the crowd of weapons focused on us. "As for the withdrawals, absolute madness."
His words come out like a whisper, but in the far corner, barren of life, I can make out a faint and disheartened, "What?" Yet the man himself is unwavering in his resolve.
"How many of these do you already have in your inventory?"
"A couple hundred as of right now, though only around forty in our truck at the moment."
They lean forward in sync, demonstrating their interest as they order their guards, "Get out, and take that one to the observation facility."
They do as they're told without another word, two soldiers remaining close to the test subject, knives trained on him as they march through the doors, shutting them as they exit, and leaving us in solitude.
The synchronous act finally drops and one of them waves us over, an orange-dressed man sitting in the center next to the solo red. We do so, and this time around, I remain silent, keeping close to Antonio and refusing to stand out.
"We'll need at least half a ton of this product by the end of the week. Understand? We will not take no for an answer."
"No problem whatsoever, we'll ensure it gets done and sent here within the deadline."
They glance at each other, uncertainly in their murmurs, before focusing back on us. "Next time, we'd appreciate it if you wouldn't break from the routine, we've grown accustomed to your runners. Any future diversion will lead to anyone unapproved being shot on sight."
"Understood." Antonio responds, professional, yet the straining muscles in his back, pressing against his clothing, tells me that he's not happy with that decision.
"Hand the products to the guards once you get back outside and leave immediately. That is all."