Number 7

"Is everyone settled down? We may be here a while, so if you have to use the restroom I would suggest doing it before we start."

It was late in the day.

Following the meeting with the 4th branch executives, Marcus and his group had left the hotel and traveled a short distance before coming to an office building which they had cleared out in order to use it as a temporary base.

It had been collectively decided that returning to the school where Gordon, Stella, and Shaun were left would be a bad idea.

It had taken a long walk to get to the hotel in the first place from there, so there was no reason to travel so far. Furthermore, in the case that they were being watched by some of the 4th branch members, it would be best to avoid leading any danger to the school.

"The fact of the matter is that we have to cover for the lies we made up. If they realize that we don't actually have subordinates running around and surveying the world, they'll become suspicious of why we lied about such a thing. They will begin to investigate our actual situation, and eventually they will uncover our true objective."

Sylvia, who was currently sitting on a couch in a lounge surrounded by the others, rattled off the truth of the situation as she looked around with caution, as if trying to ensure that nobody was listening in.

"Regardless, we have the advantage right now.", Sylvia noted. "They believe we are allies, and as such we have the element of surprise on our side. Even if they are suspicious of us, they won't attack directly unless they have proof, so we've bought ourselves some time to gain more information."

At the end of the day, this was a war of information.

"We learned quite a bit from this meeting.", Marcus noted. "We know the structure of their organization at least. I would have liked to get some better information on the number of people they have at their disposal, but I suppose that is what it is."

Thinning his eyes as he leaned forward, Marcus held a clipboard in his hand as he flipped through his notes.

"The most important thing is how many reawakened people they have on their sides, and what abilities they hold. Of course, such things cannot be found out so easily. But the fact of the matter is, they do have reawakened people on their side."

"We know that Janitor is one of them. The way he appeared before us earlier so suddenly... the only explanation I have for such a thing is that he is a reawakened person. No normal human could have done such a thing.", Sylvia added.

"But there's another question we have to ask.", Bradley added. "Just how long have these people been reawakened for?"

Putting his hand to his chin in thought, Marcus began to consider this.

"I don't know. Randov was reawakened at the time of the Calamity... and I believe that has to do with the fact that an Unnumbered entered him at that time. So it's possible that the Unnumbered triggered his reawakening... and if that's the case, then perhaps that would also be true for the others who have been reawakened through one of the Unnumbered."

Marcus spoke his thoughts out loud, but he couldn't be sure of such a thing.

"Regardless of experience, an ability user will always be dangerous. We've only had our abilities for a few days now, and we've been able to use them in ways that already far surpass human strength.", Sylvia noted. "For now we should assume that any ability user is extremely dangerous, and must be identified."

"But if that is true, then how are we to identify the ability, and which people are users?", Marcus pressed.

However as he asked this question, the group became silent.

The fact of the matter was that there was no real way to tell whether a person was an ability user unless they used their ability like Yakov had.

Even then, to figure out the ability was something else altogether. One might deduce and deduct from the ways it had been used, but Marcus and Sylvia had learned quickly just how versatile abilities could be.

It wouldn't be easy to figure it out like they had for Randov, who had so foolishly revealed his ability to them.

'Though the only reason he did that was because I was already defeated in the first place... and I even died to obtain that information.', Sylvia thought.

Furthermore, Sylvia couldn't write out the possibility that an ability existed which would allow another person to evade death in a similar manner to the Hosts.

'Revive... regenerate... revert... there are actually quite a few possible abilities which might allow such a thing.'

The more she thought about it, the more dangerous this world truly had become.

She had thought she had an advantage over most, however even that advantage seemed to crumble when she imagined the vast number of potential abilities out there.

And worst of all was that anyone could be a host for an unnumbered.

It didn't have to be an executive or someone skilled, which meant that each and every person was a target for scrutiny.

There may even be those who had kept their abilities secret from Gerard.

'But that could also technically benefit us, if we were able to use it to our advantage...'

Yet at the end of the day, information was still crucial.

Unless they knew about a potential target, they would never get anywhere.

"Alright. It looks like we have two real options."

With a sigh, Sylvia seemed to have come to a decision.

"Myself, Bradley, and Marcus - the three of us are capable of dying without consequence."

Of course, there was still the horrid pain associated with being murdered, but Sylvia hardened herself as she made this proposition.

"We could either attack now, using our abilities as necessary to defeat whatever opponents appear before us... or we could continue this charade and continue trying to gain information before we make any moves."

"I have an idea."

Speaking up was George, who seemed to be reaching into his pocket for a cigarette as he fiddled with the lighter.

Leaning forward, the man placed the cigarette in his mouth, taking a deep puff before breathing out enough smoke to fill the room.

"Why don't you all hear me out? After all... understanding criminals is supposed to be my specialty."

----

A young girl trudged through a wasteland, a sack on her back.

If one were to witness her from afar, she would look somewhat akin to a schoolgirl - however the land of devastation around her would immediately douse such a notion.

Her navy blue hair was long enough to the point where it almost reached her knees, and her eyes were cold and lifeless, as if she had never experienced any emotion from the time she was born.

Of course, she hadn't.

This girl was Isabella Palmer - or as she was raised to be known as, Isabella Stirling.

A girl who had been sold off from the moment of her birth, donated to the mafia in a corrupt bargain which involved gambling and dishonesty.

However despite her cruel situation and upbringing, this girl felt no hatred or remorse for her situation - only gratitude.

For it was exactly because of such an upbringing that this girl was capable of handling the tasks which her Master and Mistress had assigned to her.

'There it is.'

It had been a few days since Isabella had last been to this place - the hotel.

An enormous building spread out before her, though to even say that it was a building would be an understatement.

It was more akin to a resort.

An entire campus with all sorts of venues and amenities, to call it the life's work of a man at the top of a mafia branch was certainly fitting.

Of course, Isabella had no interest in such luxuries.

As a matter of fact, to this girl, luxury was an enigma.

Spoiling oneself on such pleasures with no real purpose beyond immediate satisfaction was the very epitome of pointlessness.

She could never comprehend such a thing, yet even though she did not comprehend it - she understood well that the vast majority of people acted in order to satisfy such immediate desires.

People who did follow their immediate desires were simple to understand.

They could be easily predicted, manipulated without effort, and directed exactly as she wished merely by opening a door here and closing another there.

'Uncle... you too are merely a person who is controlled by your desires.'

As she approached a particular entrance, the girl locked eyes with a man who sat atop a building - the barrel of his rifle aimed directly at her forehead.

The girl stepped forward, not averting her gaze even as she understood well that all it would take was a single bullet to end her very life.

She approached the man, eventually coming close enough to speak.

'And that is exactly why you will lose to us.'

"Who are you, little girl? Do you think that I'll show mercy just because you're a child?", the man asked in a gruff tone, clearly irritated.

"You have been ordered by Uncle Gerard not to fire on sight, correct? After all, if you were to accidentally kill a potential client, or an ally for that matter, you would be immediately disposed of."

The orange haired man had a beard that wrapped around his face, and he seemed to grimace with displeasure at the strangely intelligent response of the girl.

"Uncle Gerard? Don't tell me... you're that niece he was telling us about?"

"Isabella Stirling, leader of the third branch. I'm here to discuss things with my uncle, so would you mind allowing me inside?"

The man was perched atop the canopy, clearly meant to act as a guard to prevent unwanted guests from entering freely.

"Do as you please. There's no way I could know your identity, so I have no choice but to trust you. If there are any issues Yakov will take care of them, but I can't imagine a child causing any trouble."

With these words, the girl nodded, heading straight past the man as she entered the hotel.

The man was left in thought, unable to understand what he had just witnessed.

Therefore, rather than think too hard on such a thing, he instead decided to stay out of the Stirling family business.

'At least, if you aren't actually who you say you are, that is.'

----

"Ah, Lady Isabella. What are you doing back here alone? I presumed you would return with information, but where are your subordinates?"

Greeting the girl as she entered the resort, which was in better condition than last time she had come, was none other than Yakov - aka the Janitor.

"I came alone this time. I do have some business with my uncle, therefore can you take me to him?"

With a quick nod, the man motioned for the girl to follow him.

"Right this way, Lady Isabella. I will confirm if he is available first, and if so I'm sure he will have no issue meeting with you."

----

"Sir. Lady Isabella has returned."

Yakov stood in front of Gerard in his office.

While the man seemed to be uninterested at first, gazing through reports which had been written by hand due to a lack of printing services, he immediately gazed upward as soon as the name of his niece came up.

"Is that so? We could certainly use that information about the surrounding world at this point. Let her in."

"Of course."

With a light bow, the man headed over to the door, which he opened as the girl walked in.

She carried herself with elegance despite her cold eyes, standing in front of the man's desk without taking a seat in the chair behind her.

"You can sit-"

However as soon as Gerard tried to invite the girl to sit, she took the backpack off and held it forward, opening it up as she emptied the contents on Gerard's desk.

Yakov seemed to change his expression for just a moment as he went into battle mode for a second, but he stopped himself just short of attacking as the girl gazed directly at Gerard - not a shred of concern in her eyes.

"Unfortunately, things haven't exactly gone as planned."

"Girl. Is this how you typically deal with people? You need to learn not to make such messes in other people's homes."

Gerard thinned his eyes as he asked the girl this question, irritation evident in his tone - however the girl merely sat down at this provocation.

"Uncle. I'm sure you've heard of the Bloodhounds."

"You're saying the Bloodhounds are involved in this?"

"After the calamity, it looks like they became a bit arrogant and began to expand their territory all over the City. All of my subordinates that I had sent out previously were killed by them."

The man's expression became grave at this news, to which he looked to Yakov as he spoke with a stern tone.

"Dispatch those five clients. That should be enough for now, no?"

"I would prefer if you would allow me to work with your executives, but..."

"No, for now we will dispatch only the five clients for surveillance purposes. If the situation proves grave enough, we will dispatch the executives."

"Are you saying you don't trust me, uncle?"

"I'm merely taking precautions. Even you could understand something like that, no?"

Taking a deep breath, the girl merely nodded in response.

"Very well. I will personally take the lead on this. I will ensure that my subordinates' deaths were not in vain."

The girl stood up to leave, however the man called her back immediately.

"Isabella."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to leave these heads on my desk?"

Turning around as she noticed, the girl walked back over to the desk as she grabbed the heads one by one, placing them back into the bag on her back.

Without a word, she took the heads with her, turning again to exit the room.

"It's a shame that your executives were killed so easily... and the Bloodhounds have been known to do stuff like this. Sending heads as 'gifts' to their opposition. Which would mean that this is a message. Yakov."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Once the surveillance has been performed, prepare for war."

"Understood."

His demeanor changed, the man had a fire in his eyes as he brought his fist down upon his desk, anger barely contained within him.

"Nobody... messes with my family and lives."

----

'Why do we have to go outside like this? That tyrant... he really is just throwing us to the dogs, isn't he? And fighting a gang!? And a gang who killed members of the Street Rats, no less!? How the hell am I supposed to do something like that!?'

Senator Albert Baracus.

He was a man from the Imperial State of Koravik, the 95th Senator to be exact.

This particular man was no fighter - he had virtually no combat experience aside from the few days he had survived through this Calamity under the effective Dictatorship that Gerard had established.

'Make sure that they learn exactly what it means to go against the Street Rats. Hah! How could he say something like that when he doesn't even send his own men to take care of the problem!? Instead he sends us former clients! If only I hadn't ever...'

Biting his lip in remorse, the man ceased his thought as he looked around him.

'At any rate, this is no good. I have to make sure that I don't get separated from these people. If they go in with guns blazing, then maybe I'll have the chance to escape. Even if they get pissed at me for running, there's nothing I can do.'

This man walked alongside a group of four others who had been gathered and ordered to head to the North entrance, where Gerard's niece would be waiting to head out.

In the nation of Koravik, the Emperor had established a strict meritocracy.

Every position was ranked, with those who were of a higher ranking gaining superiority over all others.

As the 95th Senator out of 100, Albert was nothing short of a failure - but the fact that he had even made it to the position of Senator was a success in itself.

'If I could just make it back to the Empire... then surely... surely the Emperor survived. And if he did, then all I have to do is make it back into his hands.'

While he was nothing more than a pawn, he was sure that the Emperor would manage to rebuild Koravik given enough time.

As the only neutral nation in the war, Koravik had managed to avoid the damage that other nations had taken throughout its course.

By developing and acquiring weapons on par with the other nations under the direction of Emperor Hernando Bellini, it had grown to become a superpower that rivaled the other four nations and was able to defend its status of neutrality.

While the war raged in the other nations, Koravik had taken advantage of this - producing weapons for profit while maintaining relations with both sides.

Not a single ruler had ever dared to attack Koravik, as doing so would be nothing short of a strategic nightmare.

While the nations of Vorathia and Stronvardia were allied against the nations of Joraten and Forgestaria, the combined military strength of these groups were more or less equal.

If Koravik were to join one side or another, the opposing side would be wiped out without mercy.

As such, Koravik managed to avoid the attacks of any other nations, benefitting from both sides with the silent threat of joining the opposing side if anyone were to aggravate them.

Many attempts had been made to convince Koravik to join their side, however all had been in vain - for the Emperor would have no part in such negotiations.

"If we are not attacked, we will not attack. And if we are attacked, we will wait. We will research, and we will find out exactly who attacked us. Do not think that I am so naive as to merely lash out in revenge the moment an attack is had. I am not so stupid as to not consider that many might be plotting to attack under the banner of another nation. Therefore if a nation does attack us in an attempt to spur us against another - we will ensure that such a nation is wiped from the face of this planet."

This was a message that the Emperor had made to the other world leaders at a particular conference.

War was based on deception, and the Emperor of Koravik understood that. His critical position of neutrality was not one to be taken lightly. As such, he had managed to discourage even deceptive attempts to spur his country into action.

Excellence was rewarded. Mediocrity was punished. Hotheadedness and other undesirable traits would lead people to lower their rankings, to the point where they would fall into the very depths of society.

Yet it was exactly this relentless system that encouraged so many to excel.

And standing at the top of them was the Emperor.

This was the nation that Albert had come from - so even if he was not special in any manner in this apocalyptic world, Albert could brag that he had survived in such a political jungle.

'I survived... yes... but I never managed to thrive. I was only just able to get by.'

'I was always weak... weaker than everyone else... in everything. There were only... only a few who were weaker than me.'

Looking around him as the man approached the North entrance with the other four clients, the man felt a sudden surge of confidence that was quite unusual for him.

'However now... I'm the weakest of all.'

He hated it.

It was enough to inflame his heart with a burning rage, but the man suppressed such desires as he exited the door - to witness a young girl.

'Eh?'

She stood in front of the doors, with just a small blade in her hand - a pocket knife.

She wasn't dressed in any fancy clothing, far from it. Her attire was relatively plain, though she had clearly been dressed up for combat.

But it was her Navy Blue hair that particularly stood out to Albert.

'Ah... she is weaker than me.'

The man was confused, but without doubt this must have been the niece of Gerard.

As for why such a girl was being sent out on this mission with those such as himself and these others, he did not know.

But in his heart, as he saw her, the man felt a shred of pity.

'I suppose I'll forgive her... but the one who sent me here... I won't forgive the Owner.'

Glancing around him with distaste, the man held back his own sentiments - his anger slowly building as he grew irritated with the very people he was surrounded by.

'I won't forgive anyone who is stronger than me.'

----