Paragon - Chapter 59: Chapter 59

The heated breeze filled the dark interior with curious scents.
But none as curious and timeless as the faint vanilla hues emanating from the oldest being currently walking the earth sat carelessly ahead. He listened to low music in a language I couldn't understand with those silver aviators masking his emotion.
I was not just on edge. I was damn right vulnerable in a metal box with a founder.
I shifted in my seat and wished I had my duffle bag within reach, not in the trunk... not that bullets would stop him. It may just piss him off–
"Fletcher." He cut through my thoughts and I snapped my eyes to his sunglasses in the rear view mirror, "–Have you ever come across this dialect?"
I listened to the deep timbre and obscure way the language wove itself. Not Middle Eastern nor African. I wouldn't say South American and it certainly was nothing of Europe.
"If I had to guess, I'd likely be wrong." I deadpanned, tearing my eyes off those glasses that hardly needed to watch the road.
We darted through Lagos and quickly away from my ticket back to Quinn. The structures rapidly became haphazard and varying in sheets of metal than stone. I had to wonder how long it would take to reach our mountain coordinates or if he truly wanted to kill time to analyse me.
"But if you had to guess..." He drawled, teasing the 'had' a little too much for safe conversation.
"East Asia, I suppose."
"You suppose rather closely." He encouraged, "–Do you have ties to the far east?" He quipped curiously. Not predatory or calculating as many elders were... But he was beyond those games.
So, I answered honestly.
"I lived in Japan for a time. I found it... quite peaceful." I made sure not to mention that I planned to return.
That wicked grin returned in full force. "Oh, I must agree, Fletcher. Mortal discipline and respect lies on that island and rarely finds itself in other territories."
Two things he valued if his tone were anything to go by. Good to know. Disrespect this man–founder–being–you likely meet your end.
"The food isn't bad either." I quipped, scanning a woman selling coconuts under a stall before she was lost in blurring faces in the streets.
"Which kind?" He asked simply.
I didn't meet his gaze for that question. I simply thought of Aiko and her homely square of land and waiting soup. The people of her village with ready bows of respect and cautious optimism whenever I shadowed the streets.
"The mortal kind." I lied lightly, continuing to watch the streets. If I could at least play the partial part of a monster perhaps I'd make it out of this assignment alive.
He didn't comment on it.
It was the last thing he said for the next fifteen minutes until we pulled into a walled compound with an excessive number of armed guards at every angle. They knew the plate and opened the gates to us without even the need for lowered windows–mortals were so careless.
But we drove straight past the large stone building which I noted had several long range satellite receivers upon its roof. Likely a mortal-Paragon military establishment. Or a private firm as they often preferred.
As we rounded the structure, his intention presented itself.
Four helicopters sat upon a large landing bay with their rotors already spinning.
Six individuals stood deathly still before them. I sighed through my nose knowing where this was going already...
Teamwork. What a joy.
"Do you enjoy immortal company, Fletcher?" He drawled, picking up on my mood change with as much ease as picking up a menu.
I didn't waste time covering my distain as he stopped the vehicle.
"I'm here to serve, Vanilla." I answered, unable to resist the new name.
But I received a loud laugh in return as he opened the door into the heat.
"I may just tolerate you, immortal. How novel." He mused, slamming the door and striding forward to meet the immortals as the rotors whipped up the wind around us.
"What a fine day to witness change in the mortal realm!" He called, spreading his arms wide and taking them all in.
Not a single immortal moved. I rolled my neck and went for the trunk, watching them from the corner of my eye in distrust. Mindless statues ready to serve. It appeared I was underdressed for the occasion. The embarrassing amount of combat gear left nothing to be desired.
"I thank you all for your swift haste. You do know how I dislike poorly managed time." He murmured, knowing all would hear him.
I shut the trunk and strode to meet them in my usual grace with my duffel over my shoulder and a swagger earned by putting novices like this in the ground. They all watched my nonchalant approach with varying disgust.
Vanilla's tongue clicked and the focus was back on him.
"Let us welcome, Tara Fletcher. A reputation that speaks for her." He stated, drawing his pipe and striking at it sharply. He took a deep drag before nodding me in the direction of the central helicopter. "You ride with me."
He was already walking ahead before I could respond.
The other immortals let it be known that I was not such a welcome addition. It was this level of immaturity and unprofessionalism that made me want to sabotage the other helicopters and just get on with what needed to be done.
"Don't let the confidence fool you... she bleeds just as darkly as the rest." A female with hair so blonde it was almost white, smirked despite keeping her militant stance with the rest in line. I angled my head at her as I passed noting the weapons attached to every part of her tactical suit.
"Be sure to keep those weapons functioning. We wouldn't want you to confront a mortal unarmed." I drawled, following the founder.
I didn't need to look to know the words had struck true to that crystal clear insecurity. The blonde lost the militant composure and whipped her head back to catch my eyes that had already lost interest.
So, she would be the first in the team to go.
I rolled my neck again before jumping into the luxury of the helicopter that had been heavily adapted on the outside for stealth yet furnished on the inside like an oil baron dwelled in it.
When I sat down the founder was already smirking at me. I had no doubt the conversation didn't elude him.
His glasses were now off.
I slowly lowered my bag and closed the door as the pilot took off without a word.
"I know why you work alone. But under these particular variables... We need chess pieces."
"Don't tell me you value them enough to call them pieces at all."
The points in his grin were back.
"I also know why you are Cordius' best." He remarked cooly, ignoring the quip about the incompetence around us.
I remained silent and watched the terrain change beneath us. I had nothing to prove and he knew it. He knew what I was capable of but I also knew what his potential was... that limitless strength that would dwarf my own. I always knew when to choose my battles. Which is what separated me from the cannon fodder in the other three helicopters behind us.
"Do you ever worry for the future, Fletcher?" He asked suddenly.
My eyes flicked back to his burning gold and held them.
"Not usually my own." I answered slowly.
"Ah, yes. Your acts of selfless commitment where others failed–"
"I wasn't looking for validation." I said too quickly.
He raised his eyebrow slowly at the way my words cut through his. As if it were a first for many years. I felt my body cool as I realised how quickly I could be ended for such careless interruption. I spoke to him like a mortal I realised too late–I blame Quinn Adams.
Then the silence was broken when he smiled slowly.
"Why become a civil servant?" He tasted the word like a foreign wine.
I watched his face turn emotionless and wondered why he asked questions at all. He knew all the answers.
"To serve beyond myself." I answered flatly.
"And what you are doing now?" He stated dangerously.
"This achieves that on a strategic scale." I agreed. "Yet, sometimes a city is enough."
Sometimes a single mortal with a bright green gaze and quick wit was enough to tame endless violence and time. One that stumbled into a police office with half the pieces to a puzzle she didn't yet understand. One that sat on a different wave length to the rest and was waiting for the moment something would light her soul on fire. One mortal was indeed enough.
He didn't smile, he simply took a long drag from his pipe and filled the space with more vanilla air as we flew over the landscape at a rapid pace.
I had to wonder what it meant when my answers made him go silent. Curiosity and disappointment were hard to read when he had a mask so tightly controlled it may well be elation. Yet he struck me as an immortal that asked with purpose. As if he was weighing the information he held against my own.
The phone beside my heart vibrated.
As my body turned to cool stone before him I did not dare to answer it. He didn't acknowledge the vibration I knew he picked up beyond the roar of rotor blades. But simply puffed a larger cloud of vanilla between us.
An hour passed this way and he didn't utter a single word until the wheels touched the tarmac of a landing pad. The sun had retreated behind the mountains ahead. But the founder resumed the thoughts I had as if the moment had just taken place and an hour had not passed at all.
"You should answer her. It is rude to keep a lady waiting."
I remained in my seat as he flicked his sunglasses back over his eyes and leapt from the helicopter as the rotors slowed.
My heart beat coldly.
The silences were not a good thing.