“I assume she'll be going to speak with him at some point.” Proteus tells Cerberus who is seated on his bench.

  Proteus remained standing, not having entered a weight room since the beginning of the Business Wars. His body felt great, though some tensions in his neck started to return.

  “Of course. I would pay tickets to see how that unfolds.”

  Cerberus replies, standing up from the bench to look over Proteus. “Are you going to stand there or lift some weights?” Cerberus asked him.

  Proteus looks up, having previously been staring at the mirror.

  “No weights. We've got more important things to discuss.”

  “Mhmm.” Cerberus grunts, heading towards the dumbbells.

  “That is the wrong answer. I will allow it for now.”

  “Much appreciated.” Proteus tells him, sitting on the bench to get back to the point.

  “So we agreed that this is a matter of divided leadership, yes? Quiet Eyes and Quiet Skies acts as a close contractor for your intelligence committees, and in return, you follow our objective recommendations?”

  “Sounds agreeable.” Cerberus tells him, grabbing sixty kilogram dumbbells and performing strict, precise, almost robot-like lateral raises.

  “Though Defense Enforcement Megacorp takes precedence over them when it comes to leadership matters.”

  “No, that won't work for me.” Says Proteus, reaching into his pockets to retrieve something. “I can only agree under the condition that we are equals.” Cerberus dumps the weights on the ground by the sixteenth rep, turning around and marching towards Proteus, who looked up from the noise.

  “No Proteus. In this agreement, we will not be equals. I will take precedent.” Proteus looks at the beast sideways, his hand drifting towards his trusty laser glock. “Where the Hell has this come from. What exactly makes you think you must be higher than me?”

  Cerberus’s face, though always serious, looked particularly foul. He is sure that his laser eyes encompass Proteus's sight before he speaks.

  “Because I am stronger. And might make right. You are on the decline.”

  Silence follows his words. The faint rustle of clothing is heard as Proteus slowly stands, his eyes locked on the giant in front him.

  “I have been on this planet far longer than you. Don't throw this partnership away over something as petty as status.”

  Cerberus gets closer, looking down his nostrils at the smaller man.

  “I know weakness when I see it. Change is coming, and it is only because of weak men or women taking change.”

  Cerberus puts his hand on Proteus's shoulder just like his master did to him on the balcony. “I grow bored of witnessing decline. I am in charge. You will follow me.”

  The two lock a coiled eye contact. Proteus answers by spitting in the face of the giant. Cerberus recoils back slightly, letting go to wipe it off his face.

  Proteus runs to the door but it won't open. He kicks it. Then kicks it. Then kicks it again, yet it still won't open.

  He looks behind, Cerberus staring into his soul like a caged tiger. He's just standing there. Menacingly. Hands locked into fist by his sides, head tilted forward towards his target.

  “Cerberus! Don't do this for fucks sake!” Proteus yells by the door.

  He continues to stare him down. Proteus reached back into his pockets to shove some more medication down his throat before anything started. Yet his pockets are empty. He swore he brought them with him.

  Actually… where was he before he was here? Cerberus finally speaks. “So you have chosen death.” He takes a step forward, beginning a slow, unstoppable pace towards his prey.

  Proteus faced him head on, pleading his case.

  “Cerberus! We have a good thing! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

  Cerberus stopped just before he reached Proteus, the room boiling hot from his subdued rage. Cerberus carefully moved his hand to the audio system, playing a track of death metal, something Proteus assumed he listened to regularly.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Cerberus speaks, his voice a calm that is reaching a boiling point.

  “I have not changed. You have.”

  One millisecond, Cerberus was still. The next millisecond, his fist is inches away from Proteus's face and traveling at mach speed.

  Just as his knuckles make contract, Proteus recoils back and falls out of his chair onto the ground. The room was stupidly hot and humid.

  As he recovers on the floor, his mind and body pulsing with a familiar agony, he realizes where he actually is. His office room. Alone.

  “SERaMACs!” He yells drunkenly on the floor.

  “What the fuck is wrong with the air conditioning!?”

  “It has been set to one hundred and ten degrees fahrenheit.” SERaMACs replies, his voice muffled by the incessant buzzing in Proteus's ear.

  “Who the fuck did that!?” Proteus yelled rolling over onto his side. SERaMACs takes longer to reply this time.

  “It appears I did. Apologies for the error.”

  “Then fucking fix it! And then afterwards, fucking kill yourself SERaMACs!” He yells at the machine like an old man waves their fist at the sky. He finally gets to his feet, the world spinning like vertigo.

  He needs to grab onto his desk to not fall. SERaMACs said something back but Proteus can't tell what.

  The room's temperature finally drops slightly. He bends down to pick his chair back up to sit down carefully.

  The white walls are yellow. And black accents are orange.

  He stares vacantly into his desk as he sits down, the pain taking up most of his cognitive ability. A thick vignette clouds his peripheral vision. He swears he can hear whispers, though he tries to believe it is the weather.

  He gathers the fortitude to search his desk for the medication. It is the only thing that is going to make this Hell stop.

  It takes an agonizing minute, but he finds it. He poured a couple out and shoved them in his mouth, not caring how many it was specifically.

  He closes his eyes and leans back.

  “Please go away. Please go away. Please go away.” He thinks.

  It is even worse than last time. Hell, he probably felt better the few days after his head was smashed in. But it's only gotten worse.

  It takes another minute of waiting. More bearable this time. Then, another minute of waiting. It all melts away.

  The rain returns, a far cry from literal crying sounds. He opens his eyes, black is black and white is white. But it is as if white is now even more white. His office suddenly feels like a meditation chamber, and his chair— a world-class piece of upholstery.

  “SERaMACs…” He says, his voice a breathless breeze. “Get me my assistant now please.”

  He closes his eyes. He hears no response. “SERaMACs?” He asks again.

  No response. He takes a deep, smooth, silky breath in, followed by a deep, sensual, spiritual breath out— as if cleansing his lungs.

  He stays this way for God knows how long. Each breath taking with it a piece of his former pained self.

  His eyes remain closed, his mind drifting with the breeze of an imaginary wind. Or maybe the aircon. He can't tell.

  Eventually, he hears a knock at the door.

  “Come in.” He says, finally opening his eyes. His room is spotless and pristine. He looks behind, seeing the Neosun rising. It almost looks like the real thing. It is so beautiful. It must've been updated, he thinks.

  The door opens, Cerberus letting himself in. Proteus speaks.

  “It is good to see you, Cerberus. I was just thinking about you.”

  “I am honored.” Cerberus replies, taking a seat on the couch to Proteus's right. He turns his chair towards him, his mind bliss as everything falls into place.

  “So, Cerberus. The plan. I assume you've come so we can discuss the fine terms.”

  “Indeed.” Cerberus replies, looking unusually comfortable. But the world can use more comfort, Proteus thinks. Proteus stands from his chair, full of energy. He walks to the side of his desk to return Cerberus, a kind gesture. “Your aid and good word towards my work is much appreciated.”

  Proteus smiles as he thinks of the implications. “As a show of good will, how about you and I discuss this in your office?”

  “The training area?” Cerberus asks.

  “Yes. With the weights.” Proteus replies, moving to the front of his desk as he sees Cerberus preparing to stand.

  As the monster rises to his full height, he is surprised to see a bit shorter than he remembers. But, he doesn't pay it attention. As he opens the door for the giant, the giant moves through and beckons Proteus to follow him.

  The two take the closest elevator so as to waste no time in transit. As they exit into the grand circular hallway where his gym is located, Proteus looks to his left into the horizon.

  It is barely, barely raining. And the Neosun casts the faintest rays through the tiniest, most minute of openings in the clouds. Proteus follows Cerberus into the gym, and Cerberus subtly locks the door behind him.

  Cerberus sits on the closest bench as Proteus tries to continue their earlier conversation. A conversation about Proteus's meeting with Basilisk from… God. He isn't sure.

  “I assume she'll be going to speak with him at some point.”