CHAPTER 138: Insurrection-7

CHAPTER 138: Insurrection-7

The morning was mild, with a silver-toned sky over the modern Enid Corp building. In the wide central courtyard, a stage had been set up with screens, lights, and a swarm of cameras pointed at the main podium. Dozens of journalists, reporters, and political analysts crowded the front section, while the crowd extended beyond the metal fences. There was anticipation in the air: Elena Strauss, the candidate with the most support to become Germany's next president, was appearing in public alongside Enid Drakewood, the powerful director of Enid Corp.

Both women were seated in white armchairs in front of a glass table, under a marquee adorned with flags and the corporation's blue logo. At their sides, camera flashes didn't stop. Television cameras broadcast live to the entire country.

Enid wore a dark suit, sober but elegant, her hair pulled back in a firm bun. Beside her, Elena radiated a carefully calculated smile, the kind that seems natural but hides hours of rehearsal in front of a mirror. The conversation between them flowed as if they had known each other their whole lives.

"Science and politics cannot live separately," Elena said, her clear voice amplified by the speakers. "Enid Corp represents German progress, and I firmly believe we must work together to ensure a future free of biological threats."

Enid nodded calmly, glancing sideways at the cameras.
"We are honored you say so, Ms. Strauss. Cooperation between the government and the private sector is what keeps our country standing." She smiled softly. "Sometimes, order isn't achieved just with laws… but with vision."

The people applauded. A murmur of approval ran through the audience, accompanied by flashes that glittered like artificial lightning.

A few meters away, Fénix watched silently from the shadow of a column. He wore a black jacket with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on Enid and the candidate. The scene seemed like a rehearsed choreography, a perfectly executed farce. His chest burned with a mix of pride and distrust. He was aware of Enid's power, of her ability to move among the gears of the political world as if they were pieces on a board she effortlessly dominated. But seeing her there, so close to Elena Strauss, gave him a strange feeling.

"What are you doing, Enid?" he thought, lowering his gaze. "Since Berlin, you haven't been the same… and maybe neither have I."

He crossed his arms, trying to clear his mind. He felt the wind moving through the crowd, the smell of hot spotlights, and the echo of applause. Everything sounded distant.

It was then that a trembling voice interrupted his isolation:
"M-Mr. Rogers?"

Fénix turned slowly. In front of him was a young woman with light brown hair, round glasses, and a folder clutched tightly to her chest. Her credentials said Agnes Templeton – Administrative Assistant. The girl seemed nervous, almost on the verge of losing her balance under the pressure of speaking to him.

"What is it?" Fénix asked in his deep, direct tone.

"N-nothing, excuse me," she stammered, adjusting her glasses. "Just… I wanted to say hello. It's an honor to meet you, really. I've read the reports on your operations, seen the internal security interviews and… well, I'm a big fan. For years."

Fénix raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Fan?" he repeated, with a skeptical half-smile. "Of what exactly? I'm not a singer."

Agnes let out a nervous laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Of what you do… how you fight. Your loyalty to Enid Corp. You… you're a legend to the new recruits."

Fénix sighed, averting his gaze.
"Listen, Templeton," he said, his voice low but firm. "I don't deal with fans. Or new secretaries. I have too much on my mind."

He tried to leave, but Agnes, gathering courage, took a step forward.
"W-wait, please," she said hurriedly. "I don't want to bother you. It's just… I know you're investigating something. I noticed from how you were reviewing the blood trafficking reports and Viktor's records. I can help you. I have access to the political database, and also to flight histories and private donations."

Fénix stopped, looking at her sideways. That sentence chilled his blood a little: not many people knew he was on that trail.
"And what makes you think I need your help?" he asked, slowly turning back towards her.

Agnes swallowed but maintained her gaze.
"Because I know what you're doing is important. And because… I trust you, Mr. Rogers."

The silence between them stretched for a few seconds. The hubbub of the event sounded in the distance, with the voices of Enid and Elena filling the air like a diffuse echo. Finally, Fénix nodded with slight resignation.

"Alright, Templeton," he said, his voice softer. "If you really want to help me, meet me at six at the café on the corner, the one across from the station."

Agnes looked at him with wide eyes.
"Really? Y-yes, of course! At six sharp. I won't let you down."

"Good. But don't come early or late. And don't tell anyone about this, understand?"

"I promise," she said with a broad smile, as if she had just received a life mission.

"Perfect. Now go," Fénix added, leaning his shoulder back against the column.

Agnes nodded several times, nervous but happy, and moved away through the crowd, holding the folder against her chest as if guarding a secret.

Fénix watched her for a few seconds. Then, unable to help it, he smiled faintly. There was something about that girl—her clumsiness, her sincerity—that broke, for an instant, the hardness of his routine.

In the background, applause erupted again. Enid and Elena shook hands in front of the cameras, sealing what for the public was a historic alliance.

The blow was as small as a nuisance, but enough to open a wound in the night: a stone, then another, another more—small projectiles that hissed and hit the column where Fénix was leaning. At first, he thought they were children—or some idiot throwing things in the crowd—and he turned, chin raised, ready to intimidate the responsible party.