It was deep into the apathy of night. The first of a world decades-detached from the concept of a sunrise.

  The Station-Wagon limped into the closing marble garage, its engine fluttering, Uncle Rodney banging against the cylinder walls.

  She parked it wherever, without care. She got out the door and slammed it shut, Cerberus kicking the rear hatch wide open; shattering the glass and unfolding out.

  “Where do you think you're going?” He asked Septimus calmly. He could see her marching away towards the exit.

  He dashed to her, his boots leaving cracks in the pristine flooring. He snatched her from behind and held her up with one hand. The fleshy side of his face, scarred, slightly burnt and covered in dry cuts. His metallic side, scratched to high Hell and with a piece of shrapnel embedded into part of his metal cranium.

  “GIVE ME A REASON TO NOT TEAR YOUR EYES OUT!”

  He shoulder into he masked face.

  Septimus didn't reply. She reaches her hand out, almost coyly, and carefully picked the shrapnel out of Cerberus's skull, flicking it to the floor. He mannerisms where almost like that of a cat behind held by its neck. He puts her down, making it loud and clear.

  “That detonation was solely your fault. You are lucky I prove to be a mighty shield to stand behind.”

  Septimus nodded twice, pointing to the exit as she looked up at him.

  “Very well...” Cerberus said begrudgingly, clearing holding back part of his bottomless fury.

  Cerberus had a massive pain in his hip, yet he didn't dare limp.

  He dragged Septimus with him up over six hundred flights of stairs until they reached the elevator to the throne room. He was as silent as she was. He silently dreaded the pending meeting, as she suspected she did too.

  While Cerberus barely squeezes into the elevator, Septimus stood quite comfortably where he wasn't. As the door closes a thicker of lighting echoes on the outside. The city back to its unnatural darkness mixed with corporate luminescence.

  The door opened, revealing the grand decadent staircase. Cerberus peeled himself out, seeing that all the lights were on.

  The faintest of wind whistles could be heard from outside. As he slowly ascended, Septimus behind him, he saw it was caused by a tiny, paper-thin gap between the balcony door and the floor. Cerberus scanned the room. The whistle or pressure difference mixed with the faint buzz of machinery and lights.

  The golden ebony throne was empty. His master was nowhere to be seen. It was very odd. Very weird, he didn't even sense his presence. He turned to look down at Septimus, who looked around the room like a lost child.

  “Gauth Van Hulsieg, my master?” Cerberus asked to no answer.

  He looked up into the top left corner of the exit, up at the camera his master always takes issue with. He sees that it's red light doesn't beep. And so the camera is turned off.

  “Gauth Van Hulsieg, my lord?” He asked again. Still no answer, except for the ephemeral ghouling of the wind.

  He took a step backwards towards the stairs. Septimus did so with him. Be backed up a little faster, turning fully to descend back down. As he reached the elevator, Septimus entered. He looked back, expecting his master to appear. And yet… he didn't.

  Cerberus ducks into the elevator, looking down at Septimus as he asks her a question. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  She simply stared up at him and made a gesture of a telephone.

  “Hmm…” Cerberus hums, looking away for ideas. And to keep his mind from drifting too far into unwanted territories. “Bring us to Proteus.” He tells her. She complies, pressing the button to his floor.

  The elevator ride was hopelessly tense. At any second, Cerberus was ready to hear his master intrude over the intercom. For the ride to suddenly stop. For it to open onto the wrong floor. And yet, the door opens and… it's the right floor. It opens to an early twenty first century-styled office space; like the Pentagon mixed with the stock market.

  Cerberus exits first. Septimus follows his lead. It doesn't take them long to barge into Proteus's office. As Cerberus bunted open the door the sight is… odd. Peculiar.

  Proteus was lying on the couch with his hands covering his eyes. Kaitlyn was also there, playing a video game on the large display on the opposite side.

  “Have you heard of knocking?” Proteus asked, a pain in his voice. Cerberus looks over him with zero empathy, Kaitlyn pausing the game to look back at the pair. “Proteus isn't well.” She said.

  “I don't care.” Cerberus replied, his face still clearly bloodied.

  He marched further into the room and slowed as he inspected Proteus, whose hands still covered his face as he lay in his back.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He took a lazy, deliberate, heavy seat on the opposite side of the couch. The thing buckled and broke beneath his weight, sending Proteus into the air.

  Proteus rolled onto the floor, trying very hard not to wrap into a ball. He slowly raises to his knees as Cerberus kept sitting on the broken couch. Proteus's head snaps back to Cerberus, his golden eyes turned to a bloody orange from the veins below going bloodshot.

  “State… your business.” Proteus told him, his breaths deep and humid. “Gauth Van Hulsieg is missing.” Cerberus replies, his face totally unfazed at the sight.

  Proteus slowly got to his feet, his eyelids squinting to protect his eyes. “Cerberus. He is never missing. Everything he does is deliberate. He doesn't make mistakes.”

  Septimus fully walked into the room, closing the door behind her.

  One semi-regular woman in the form of Kaitlyn stood within this room of three global industry giants; a fly on the wall so to say.

  Cerberus gets up from the ruined chair, his hip in less pain. He looks over Proteus from far above. He looks over Septimus even higher.

  “I tire from humoring the weak and feeble. I respect you Proteus. Do not insult my intelligence.”

  “I do not!” Proteus protests, raising his voice. “You asked me a question and I have you an honest answer!”

  “I did not ask you a question.” Cerberus replied with an inner brooding. Proteus grabs his forehead and looks away. Kaitlyn got up and tried to end the conversation.

  “Cerberus… uh, Basilisk? Please. As I said, Proteus is not well. If you have a reservation, I can book you in as I did last ti—”

  Cerberus gave her a look. That is all it took for her to back off and shut up. Proteus releases his forehead as he speaks.

  “Did you get that fucker John at least?”

  “I fear not.” Cerberus replies. Proteus looked up to him, a stupid amazement on his face. “No? You didn't?! You have got to be fucking kidding me. Jimbo literally brought him to you! Can you at least track him?!”

  “The tracker was destroyed.” Cerberus tells Proteus, a growling scowl on both of their faces.

  Proteus gets closer, his voice bordering on a yell.

  “SERaMACs is shitting the bed. SERaMACs parent company has been in free fall since this evening. Halcyon is dead, our informant is missing, and you can't even kill, yet alone FIND a regular man! What in the FUCK is wrong with you two?!”

  Cerberus contemplated squishing Proteus then and there. He considers there partnership, and for all the good it would do for their cause, it is hard to justify as the red dogs consume him.

  Septimus’s subtle footsteps broke through the thickening ambiance of the room. She taps Proteus in the shoulder and hands him a note.

  “Do you know about the Archliege?” The sticky note asked.

  “The Archliege…” Proteus whispers, his eyes starting to bulge as he recalls something. “How do you know of this?! What was said?!”

  “Your informant.” Cerberus interdicted. “It was his last words before his death, as he tried to kill us both.”

  Proteus takes a few steps back. He grabs his forehead again, back up even faster.

  “No… no no no no no.” He said, running to check his computer.

  “Proteus sir?” Asked Kaitlyn. “NOT NOW!” Shouted Proteus.

  He pulls up an image onto his screen. It was a photograph of an ancient text he had been handed by his master. His eyes skipped to the very last sentence. “Yours, in infinite finality.” It read.

  Septimus turned her head back to the door, noticing the office noise had gone eerily quiet by this point. She moved further into the room as Proteus piqued her intrigue. Cerberus folded his arms. Kaitlyn took a seat by her controller. Proteus looked up from his screen slowly, his mouth a gape. The silence, deafening.

  “It cannot be… the Archliege?” Proteus asked himself.

  “Is it required that I rip your words out for you?” Cerberus warned.

  Proteus turned to him, his fowl mood and afterthought.

  “Cerberus… you and I must certainly work together now. Do not worry about your failed mission. It is a success…”

  His eyes grind in their sockets into Septimus who stood beside the door to his left. The lighting seemed to change as he looked at her, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

  “Septimus. Return to your department. A lot of assets will require liquidation in the coming months.” His eyes fall to his personal assistant.

  “Kaitlyn, my dear. Do you have any idea of the Archliege?”

  “No?” She replied. Cerberus raised an eyebrow to his wording, but allowed him to continue.

  “Do you have any idea where Gauth Van Hulsieg might be?”

  “The throne room?” She asked as an answer. Septimus looks back to the door, hearing the faintest of footsteps, seeing the light from underneath completely blocked.

  “Silence.” She tells the room as she realizes the detail.

  The rest take notice soon after. The shadow slowly fades with a few loud, deliberate paces away. The outside office was still silent. It seemed not even the thunder dared make noise.

  Cerberus' heart sinks as he calls back to his meeting with Basilisk; specifically, the punishment that ensued. He eyes dark to the camera corners on a whim, noting they too are turned off.

  Proteus is the first to break the silence as things really sink in.

  “You must all leave.” He tells them. “I must speak to him first.”