“Basilisk. Your skills are required.” She heard from an old voice through her conical implant.

  “Proteus? You're functional?” She asks, unfolding her legs and rising from her wooden desk in her office.

  “Why yes indeed.” Proteus answers. “I accompanied Cerberus on his mission to capture the illegal salesman, which, by the way. What business of ours is relegated in such menial tasks? Can't enforcement do it?”

  Basilisk slithers around her desk and grasps a book, her long black dress gracing the alcantara floor with each step. “Oh Proteus, it has been a while hasn't it? We are not doing these things to end dissent directly, but to gain knowledge to learn how we can discretely, you see?”

  “Yes, I see.” Says Proteus.

  Basilisk puts the book down and inspects her nails. “Now… How is Cerberus doing? Is he alright?”

  Proteus answers honestly, as far as she can tell at least. “He's getting his face rebuilt, again. And I'm surprised he's still alive given what had happened. Your doing?” He asks.

  “What do you think?” Basilisk replies.

  “It goes without saying you should watch your back from now on.” Proteus adds, remaining neutral in the affair.

  “On the contrary Proteus, I always am.” She replies with a smile, sitting down. “Is there anything else?”

  “Meet me on the first floor in the Auditorium.” Proteus tells her. “Your skills are required.” He says, hanging up the call.

  She glides into the lobby from her office and leaves down their stairs for the first floor. Exiting the staircase into the prime lobby of the Ivory Tower, the walls are made of large, pristine marble tiles and a polished obsidian floor.

  Round pillars of the same marble holding up the mural-engraved roof. It depicted a scene of tragedy, its figures and style ancient in appearance and now lost to obscure history.

  The view is nothing to her. Both in regard to her own venomous beauty, and her opinion of the scene. She does not perceive vanity, only truth. She approaches the grand reception, a male worker manning it. Dressed prim, proper and tastefully.

  “Where is Proteus?” She asks him.

  “Down the left hallway, second door.” He answers.

  “Of course. Thank you.” She replies, floating away to the hallway the receptionist spoke of.

  She takes the tungsten door handle in her hand, pushing it down without a noise and enters with grace. The room is almost pitch black, the only light coming from a vision slit in the door. She sees Proteus in the corner and asks.

  “In what ways are my expertise required, valued Proteus?”

  Proteus opens his eyes and adjusts his hat, not having heard her enter.

  “Right this way, you'll see.” He tells her, opening another door leading towards a descending staircase. She walks down into the artificial hill the tower is built upon, the door closing behind her.

  Light appears at the bottom of the staircase. It leads to a semi-expansive room, its solitary occupant tied down to a plate at its center. A dark, metallic, echoey room it is. It's only light emanating from the slab itself.

  “He— Hello?...” The hairy blue thing asks.

  “Hi there. My name is Bridget. What's yours?” Basilisk lies while asking him. She approaches, closer in a way that looks honest and caring.

  “I'm… I'm Clyde. A— uh… what am I doing here?” He asks, visibly shivering and unable to look at her.

  His legs pointed towards the entrance; his head locked down by a thick strap. She walks carefully into his field of view, glancing into his bulging, bio augmented eyes. She takes a seat on the side of the slab, gently placing her hand on his chest.

  “That's what I'm here to learn Clyde. Whatcha do to end up down here?”

  Clyde breaks eye contact, staring at the black roof with short breaths.

  “I… I… I don't know. I was just… having some alone time with my new, uh, enbyfriend before I got a knock at the door. I thought it was… one of my, uh, acquaintances. But it wasn't.”

  Basilisk stops playing with his fur, taking her hand off his chest, looking at his lower half to see she's got something else to stand to attention. She maintains total control of her demeanor and appearance, coming across exactly as she wants to be perceived.

  “Your enbyfriend, tell me more about them Clyde.”

  “Well… I had only brought them three weeks ago. I had them customized to, uh, well, accommodate my tastes and they were amazing.” He answers, momentarily more comfortable with her presence.

  “Very interesting Clyde.” She says, standing from the table and orbiting to the other side. “But that's not what you're here for. That's perfectly legal. Encouraged even. You're a good citizen for enjoying yourself.” She says, now sitting on his other side.

  “But I can imagine having such a friend… certain devices would become obsolete, hmm?” Leaning over him, her breath a cold chill as she tries to be friendly.

  “You sold your virtual reality device to someone. I'd love to know who exactly it was. I need to know so I can help you.”

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  “Really?” Clyde asked, squirming a little at the prospect. “It was a girl called… Abbey I think? I didn't live far from her. I… I can help you with more than just that, please, I'll do anything to get out of here!”

  Basilisk contorts her smile from satisfaction to one of pleasantry. “Oh really? Well, what's the offer?”

  Clyde looks to her, his face expressing thoughts and fantasies from the back of his mind. “I know you could detect me from an indicator by SERaMACs about the virtual device. I figured nothing would happen because enforcement sucks but oh well.”

  He loses himself for a second before picking back up.

  “Well anyway. Surely you could follow that lead to Abbey? Doesn't SERaMACs log all the data it receives?”

  “Wow, very impressive!” Basilisk says with some surprise. “That is a very good idea Clyde… but unfortunately, we could not do that. We don't have access to all the information SERaMACs does. Imagine like finding a brick in a warehouse, but the warehouse has infinite duplicates of that brick. And only it can tell the difference between those bricks.”

  “Then… just request it to give you that specific brick, right?” Clyde tries to reason in an attempt to unglue himself from the whole case. Basilisk leans in again, whispering quietly, and in a less friendly manner.

  “Clyde, answering that question would put you in danger. I want you to be safe Clyde. What can I do to get your mind off the topic?” He falls directly in her trap, a trap he thought was made of fluff and pillows. He looks expectantly towards his lower half, then looks up to her.

  “Well… getting out of here for one. But there's a little guy down there that could, uh… use some attention?”

  His innuendo was incredibly obvious, and Basilisk closed her trap around him, standing up again. “Oh of course! I should have realized. Well, you've been good, so I'll see to it that someone or something collects you and… of course, have that little problem of yours sorted out.”

  She leaves towards the exit, hearing him ask her one last thing as she does. “Really?”

  Basilisk continues, her pace uninterrupted. “Of course dear Clyde, you have my word.”

  She opens the door at the top of the staircase and turns to Proteus who had remained in place. He closes the door and asks her. “So, do we kill him or send him to a pleasure isle? He was asking way too many questions.”

  Basilisk rubs her mouth, putting her compassionate act back into storage. “I know. I was tempted to crush him.” She thinks a little longer.

  “A pleasure isle. Darsa could do. His personality will take to it well. It won't take long for him to kill himself afterwards.”

  Proteus clicks his fingers as he gets off the wall he was leaning against. “Well, in that case I'll get an escort in order. Oh, and by the way, Cerberus had his face done now I think. Keep an eye out.”

  He warns, opening the door and leaving into the ground floor lobby.

  “Oh great.” Basilisk mumbles to herself.

  “SERaMACs, turn the lights on.”

  The black room is instantly illuminated; its reinforced concrete along with a figure standing behind her lit up.

  “Oh yeah, and SERaMACs, locate Cerberus for me too.”

  His red eyes activate, unseen. “Right behind you.”

  Before she can react, he grabs her perfect blonde hair and rams her into the opposite side of the room, closing the door with his left hand and locking it. He keeps her pinned, his supernatural strength far exceeded by her own.

  “Ahhgh, for fuck sake! Can we do this somewhere else?!”

  She pleads having known this would happen sooner or later.

  “No.” Cerberus replies.

  He grabs the back of her neck, throwing her face into the door frame of the staircase, causing her to do a half-flip and slam into the ground.

  He remains still while she slowly gets back up, wiping her bloody nose. “You were a fool for ever having believed me. Someone so easily manipulated should not be among our ranks.”

  She spits out some blood that ran down from her nose. Cerberus stands still, his fists locked and his body free of armor. “Approach me.” He demands.

  So Basilisk tries rushing him. She throws a fist into the semi-filled cavity that is his face and ducks under his counter hook, which is slow as his shoulder remains unpowered.

  She throws another punch into the side of his liver, using the momentum from her whole body to deal maximum damage. She throws another hook into his face before it seemed he could react, his body moving in the direction of her force, a grunt even coming from him.

  She backs off, impressed at her own prowess. “C’mon! Fight me you fucking useless piece of shit! You are NOTHING!”

  Cerberus exhales in response and steps towards her. Like lightning, his arm lunges for her throat, and he lifts her into the air.

  As if a ragdoll, he lifts her higher, closer to the roof than the floor, before throwing her body into the ground. She tries to roll over, but he grabs the back of her head again.

  He takes a knee, calmly. He proceeds to bash her face into the ground repeatedly. One, after the other, after the other. She is totally powerless to resist as her senses are assaulted with each impact, the pool of tissue and blood on the floor growing each second.

  He must've smashed her face into the ground for almost ten whole seconds, practically an eternity, before he finally let up; her torso dropping to the floor with a splat.

  All of her dentures had fallen out or been shattered. Some stick in her face like knives, the thing now a mangled bloody mess. Broken nose, minced brow, slack jaw and ripped cheeks.

  Cerberus stood again, slowly, overlooking the defeated Basilisk from his towering height. “I reject punching women.” He says. “Grabbing or pushing I do allow.”

  Basilisk tries to get up, struggling and writhing from the pain. Cerberus does not stop her, instead turning and grabbing the door handle. While he was initially going to leave, he stayed for a moment longer.

  “If I lacked self control, I would've slaughtered you in this very room. If I lacked self control, then Proteus would've been your witness.”

  His fury boils through the cracks as he leans back down to address her. “If I lacked self control, I wouldn't have the foresight to see the folly of ending you. But now my loyalty is absolute, because of you. Our master, Gauth Van Hulsieg spared me. And he expects me to spare you.”

  He rises for the last time, Basilisk now on her hands and knees.

  “I will see you at the board meeting, Basilisk. Do not cross me again.”

  Cerberus leaves, his fury showing as he slams the door behind him. So hard it destroys the frame and opens to the opposite side of the hallway.

  “You lack the self control to avoid monologuing about it.”

  Basilisk mutters out intangibly as he goes.

  “Lucky me. I am counting on not having to."