CHAPTER 107: Prelude

CHAPTER 107: Prelude

October 31st, 2000, had fallen over Berlin like a strange shroud. The city vibrated between the festive and the dark: carved pumpkins in windows, cheap costumes in the streets, children running with bags of candy, and at the same time, a disquieting sensation that seeped through the damp alleys and cigarette smoke. It was the kind of night where masks seemed too real and the line between human and monster blurred.

Enid Corp breathed a different atmosphere. The cold, metallic hallways contrasted with the city's bustle; inside, everything was rigidity, professional silence, and contained tension.

Fénix was in the elevator, hands in his pockets, expression serious. Three weeks had passed since the incident at Tegel prison. Three weeks of rest, training, medical check-ups, and a recovery that had brought him back to one hundred percent. No trace of weakness remained in his body, though deep down, the invisible scars still burned.

The elevator emitted a soft *ding* and the doors opened on the top floor. Fénix stepped out, advancing down the carpeted hallway until he reached the main office. There, behind an imposing desk, was Enid, impeccable in her dark suit, with a bearing that commanded respect effortlessly. Standing beside her, waiting, was Anna, who was reviewing some papers with a studious expression.

"You're right on time," said Enid without looking up from a report she held, though her voice conveyed absolute control of the room.

Fénix stopped in front of her.
"You told me there was a mission."

Enid nodded and extended a black envelope with the corporation's seal.
"Correct. Last-minute information. An anonymous informant claims there will be suspicious activity in the Berlin subway tonight. Blood trafficking." Her eyes shone with a mix of interest and disdain. "Your duty, along with Anna's, is to intercept them and stop the operation."

Anna glanced at him, serious, as if waiting for a reaction.

Fénix took the envelope, opened it, and quickly skimmed the contents: tunnel diagrams, possible meeting points, and coded names that revealed little.
"Any idea who's behind this?" he asked without raising his voice.

"Not yet," Enid replied. "But if blood is being moved in these quantities, someone with power is backing it. And I want to know who."

Anna crossed her arms, frowning.
"Then we go to the subway. We can't let this spread."

Fénix closed the envelope and tucked it under his arm.
"Understood."

The clock on the wall read 8:07 PM. There were a few hours left until midnight enveloped Berlin, and the subway became the stage for their next war.

In the Antigen office, the light was cold and calculated. Darem was reclined in his chair, feet casually propped on the desk, surrounded by screens and folders that smelled of fresh ink. The clock marked the night; something was brewing in the city, and he awaited news with the stillness of one who knows everything is tied by unbreakable threads.

The desk phone rang with a brief tone. Darem answered it with the same calm he used to put out a cigarette.

"Darem here," he said, his voice neutral, professional.

On the other end of the line, there was a brief silence; then, Darem cleared his throat as if resuming an expected conversation, and from the other end of the line, Viktor asked the question.

"Darem, is everything going according to plan?"

From the other end came Darem's voice, solid and pleased.

"Everything as planned," he answered. "The lab-grown vampires will wake up at 9:00 PM sharp. At nine on the dot. After that, we release them onto the streets of Berlin. The show begins then."

Darem sketched a smile no one could see over the phone.

"And you? How are those 'vacations' in New York going?" he asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Fine," replied Viktor, with a tone of feigned disdain. "Although, the cocktails at this place leave a lot to be desired. Should I complain, or should we ask you to bring a decent bartender for when you arrive?"

Viktor let out a short laugh.

"Make sure everything goes as planned there. I want Berlin in ruins. No mistakes. No mercy."

"You'll have it," said Viktor without hesitation. "And listen: when you finish your work, take the first flight to New York. There we will proceed with the next phase. Everything is linked; there's no room for error."

"Understood," Darem replied. "I'll make sure there are no mistakes. Over and out."

The call ended with a precise click. Darem placed the handset back on the base and stared at it for a moment, like someone contemplating a board where the pieces are already moving on their own.

On the other end of the line, Viktor paused. He was on the beach, his feet buried in the warm sand, the salty breeze on his face. Distanced from the tension he had just dictated, he brushed his bangs aside with his right hand, and for an instant, the light revealed a scar: a straight line of stitches, thin and whitish, crossing his forehead as if they had opened his skull and sewn it back together.

Viktor observed the line with an almost satisfied expression, touched it with his thumb, and smiled.

"Let the show begin," he murmured to himself, more for the tide than for anyone. "Berlin will learn to fear again."

Darem leaned forward in his chair, spinning the phone between his fingers like a chess piece. A crooked smile formed on his face as he muttered to himself:

"That whole pantomime about blood trafficking in the subway… a well-placed lie. Enid Corp swallowed the bait as they should." He tapped a finger on the desk. "And of course, I know perfectly well who Enid will send: her most loyal dog."

He let out a short, dark laugh.

"Fénix Rogers… isolated, far from his comrades, exactly where I want him. The board is set, and now all that's left is to wait for the piece to break."