CHAPTER 51: The Washington Incident - Part I

CHAPTER 51: The Washington Incident - Part I

Berlin. Private runway of Enid Corp.

The Berlin sun beat down against the impeccable fuselage of the private jet, drawing blinding flashes from the metal. The contained roar of the engines was a promise of speed, of an imminent destination. Washington awaited them. In the cabin, patience was a resource running dangerously low.

Vanessa, arms crossed and her heel tapping an impatient rhythm on the carpet, let out a sigh that cut through the silence.
"Did anyone explain to Fénix that a clock has two hands and they both usually move forward?"

Lucian, sunk into a leather armchair and leafing through a fashion magazine with disdain, didn't look up.
"Darling, questioning Fénix's punctuality is like complaining that a hurricane is five minutes late. It's part of his chaotic essence. Call it… the glamour of tardiness."

Hurried footsteps echoed on the airstairs. Fénix's silhouette appeared in the doorway, slightly hunched and a bit short of breath, but with his usual smirk of annoyance intact.

"Well, you almost took off without your main attraction," he huffed, climbing in and adjusting his tie knot with a brusque gesture.

Enid, from her seat by the window, glared at him with a look that oscillated between exasperation and deep resignation.
"We are about to engage in the most dangerous power game in the world, Fénix. Do you think I could care less about your tie?"

Fénix scanned the cabin. Every seat seemed occupied. Lucio, from behind the pages of a financial newspaper, slowly lowered it just enough for his mocking eyes to meet Fénix's.

"Relax, kid. There's always room in the luggage compartment. With any luck, among the suitcases."

Fénix arched an eyebrow, sarcasm flowing naturally.
"Perfect. That way I'll save myself your astrological predictions and your pearls of cheap wisdom."

A stifled laugh escaped Vanessa, but Lucian didn't miss the opportunity.
"With your luck, it'll be a flight full of turbulence. You'd better fasten your seatbelt… if you can find one."

Finally, Enid pointed a sharp finger towards the back row, where a narrow seat, far from all comfort, awaited, empty and humiliating. Fénix slid into it with a theatrical sigh.
"Wonderful. A first-class ticket to the corner of ostracism."

The plane cut through the skies, leaving the continent behind. The conversation inevitably drifted toward the precipice that lay ahead.

Fénix was the first to break the ice, his voice laden with a macabre curiosity.
"So, let's play a game. Suppose I fail. What's Plan B? Do we run in circles screaming?"

A thick silence settled in the cabin. Only the soft rustle of Lucio's newspaper remained constant. It was he who responded, with a calm that sounded like prophecy.
"There is no Plan B. You are going to win. I'm putting all my capital on that outcome. You are my winning horse."

Fénix, from his exile in the back, raised his voice.
"Touching, Lucio. I didn't know our relationship had reached such… financial levels. I'm almost moved."

Lucio didn't flinch.
"Cry after the victory. Just make sure you kick that son of a bitch's ass first."

Vanessa gave him a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
"I suppose that's his peculiar way of saying we trust you. Even if it hurts to admit it."

Fénix leaned back against the coolness of the window, watching the cottony clouds.
"Great. No pressure. Just save the world and Lucio's investment portfolio. No big deal."

Lucio, from behind his newspaper, tossed a comment into the air, casual, as if talking about the weather.
"Fénix will win, that's a fact. Although…"

Fénix looked up, alert.
"Although?"

Lucio lowered the paper, revealing a serene and dangerous smile.
"I never said you'd come out unscathed. Collateral damage is inevitable. An arm? A leg? Minor inconveniences."

Fénix sat up straight.
"What?!"

Lucio shrugged, as if haggling over the price of fish.
"It's not that bad. You can regenerate limbs, can't you?"

Fénix's expression turned icy. All traces of sarcasm vanished.
"No. I can't. I never could."

The silence that followed was absolute. Vanessa and Enid exchanged a look of disbelief. Even Lucian looked away from the window.

Lucio frowned, genuinely intrigued.
"Really? I thought that was a standard ability for people of your… ilk."

Fénix shook his head slowly, his voice a somber echo.
"It's impossible for lycanthropes. The only exception I've known in my three hundred years was Marius. Only he could do it. And Marius is gone."

Enid, who had remained silent, intervened, her professional curiosity overcoming her anger.
"Marius? The one you barely talk about?"

"He was a force of nature," Fénix confirmed, looking back out the window. "But I'm the one who's here. And if Adam tears my arm off, I'll have to learn to kick his ass with the other one. Those are the rules."

Lucio let out a low laugh and raised his newspaper again.
"That's the attitude. Although I hope for your sake it's not the right arm. The betting odds would drop drastically."

Fénix gave a crooked smile.
"Your faith in me is overwhelming. It almost warms my heart."

The opulence of the underground bunker was a mockery of the concept of austerity. Jacuzzi, a marble bar stocked with the most expensive whiskies from Scotland, high-definition television screens showing silent news of the chaos on the surface. In the center, President George W. Bush was trying, with growing frustration, to sink a putt on an exclusive custom-designed mini golf course.

"Goddammit!" he roared, throwing the club to the ground with a sharp crack. He turned on his heels, his gaze burning toward the guard on duty, who remained impassive like a statue. "Well? Where are those two-bit mercenaries from Enid Corp? Did they get lost?"