Deal

In an open field of green grass, beside a forest filled with trees, behemoth men draped in jade and designs of black appeared from nothing. They wore simple clothing — hides covered their nether regions and skins hung from their shoulders. 

Tusks protruded from their lower lip and a pig's nose sat in the target of their face. Scars, blood, and tattoos covered the brutes. 

Amidst their confusion, a particularly large Orc shouted above the rest. His arm pointed into the forest beside them.

The group of Orcs bashed into the forest and attacked the tree's as if they were beasts. With their bare hands, the Orcs ravaged the bark of the trees. They stripped them thin before toppling them over. In turn, the Orcs ran into the trees and slammed their barefeet against its base; with each kick, more wood crackled under the force and burst into the air. 

In under an hour, the Orcs stripped, cut, and processed the trees into functional logs. From there, the Orcs constructed log cabins — small and crudely made, but homes nonetheless. 

With the previous order completed, the same Orc shouted above the rest once more. 

In response, the bulging figures of green men pounded away into the forest. As they ran, their heads nearly clipped the branches of the trees above. Had their leader entered, he surely would have had to kneel underneath the forest's bulwark. 

***

Cain and his cohort returned quickly. Their MRE's were extinguished and they were running low on ammunition. They still carried the explosives, the grenades and the flashes along with the syringes — none of those had been used, but Jun and Mei ran through bullets like it was ice cream. 

Mei especially ousted herself as a trigger-happy lunatic when she dumped half a clip into a strip of brush. Her bullets razed the brush, stripping it of leaves and debilitating its branches. 

Luckily, though, the cohort returned in one piece. Their drone was filled with maps and recordings, Mei's backpack was stuffed with container after container of miscellaneous goods, and between the three Awakened — seventy-four Magic Crystals were collected. 

To Church and Fey, an invaluable haul. About twenty-seven for each of them, it was more than a fifth of the number they needed to evolve into Neophytes. Unfortunately, they had no clue how many they'd need for the next breakthrough, but each one served its purpose in stepping closer to the finish line. 

When they returned to the black pyramid, the ash and blood visage that they had left had been cleared away. Instead, tents littered the field of mud. Erect from four poles, blue and white tents covered an array of foldable tables. On the tables, researchers set up their tools. 

Cain and the others walked through the reconstruction towards the black pyramid's entrance. After receiving clearance to enter, they shuffled down the pyramid's steps to the bottom floor where a Gate remained. 

While descending, the cohort had to constantly make way for legions dressed in blue — the lot of them still working tirelessly to bring three hundred years of technological advancement into the Land of Trees. Even tucked on the side of the onyx staircase, an amalgamation of chords and wires ran through the pyramid towards the tents above. 

Cain's cohort stepped through the Gate, but since no teleportation was required, they merely stepped over one side and entered the other — a seamless transport between worlds. Through the second floor walls of glass, Cain recognized a fleet of militiamen in tow behind their leader, the now Director Sutton. 

Meanwhile, the cohort delivered their bags to the commissary in the corner of the hall. The commissary was the facilities version of a trade center, it's both where Cain's cohort acquired their goods before entering the Gate and where they were required to submit their findings after leaving the Gate. 

At some point in time, Sutton and his militia appeared on the ground floor. 

They passed Cain, Church, and Fey. Some nodded in recognition. Others kept their eyes straight. In the crowd of people, however, Cain distinctly recognized a head of platinum blonde hair. 

"Leon!" Cain grabbed the young adult's shoulder. 

The group halted. Director Adams cast his gaze back. 

"I thought you went back to college." Cain said. 

Leon scratched his cheek. 

"Well… Director Adams invited me to join G.U.A.R.D. and after looking at the salary…" 

"Ahh. I see." Cain responded. 

"Are the Gates still open, Sir Cain?" Adams asked. 

"They are —" Cain nodded, "and they're still inhabited too." 

Director Adams turned towards the golden arches that led to the Land of Trees. He, along with his militia, wore similar black military garb in addition to their own slew of gadgets and weapons. They marched into the Gate and climbed the pyramid's stairs, escaping the view from beyond the arches. 

Cain turned to leave as well, but before he could, a woman he hadn't expected to meet again approached him. 

"Sir Cain —" Secretary-General Barber greeted, "I've yet to thank you for stopping the horde." 

"If you'd accompany me, I have some things I'd like to discuss with you." Barber smiled. 

Her polite demeanor appeared calm and friendly and even though she was surrounded by a mess — the dried blood from extracting the corpses, the dragging of mud across the floor, and even the foul stench of the workers who repeatedly dove in and out of the Gate for hours on end — Mrs. Barber remained spotless through it all. 

Still in a fancy dress and heels, an exotic scent lingered off her collarbone which was a nice surprise for Cain's heightened senses. She led Cain through the facility to an office space. A center table divided the two, round and wooden. They sat opposite each other. Meanwhile, a young man in a black suit poured coffee into two mugs carefully presented before Cain and Barber. 

"Do you take milk, Mr. Cain?" Barber asked whilst grabbing her mug. 

"I'm fine." Cain said, "Better question is why you've brought me here?" 

Sarah Barber pressed her lips against the edge of her ceramic mug. Blowing gently, she sipped her black coffee before responding to Cain. 

"I suppose there are a slew of reasons." Barber pulled her mug away revealing a stain of red lipstick. 

"Pick one." Cain said. 

"Your strength is commendable —" She smiled, "far greater than anything the other's have shown. I also can't help but notice your independence." 

"My independence?" Cain asked. 

"As a summon, I would have assumed you'd be glued at the hip with Miss Flinn, but —" 

"Ahh. I see now." Cain exhaled. 

"You're curious why I've remained at all?" Cain prodded. 

"Precisely." Barber smiled. 

"Hell is disastrous." Cain lied. 

"The temperature, the foul odor that permeates through the mountains, Hell is a land far from comfortable living." 

"So the old texts are accurate?" Barber sipped from her mug. 

Cain exchanged a confused glance with her. 

"The Bible, of course. The Old Testament, the New, the Quran — Hell is referenced all throughout history. I suppose I'll need to take it more seriously now." Barber said. 

"But if you're looking for a place to stay —" She continued, "I can help you with that." 

"What gives you the impression I'm looking for help?"

"You took a job from Sutton, did you not?" At this time, the man in a black suit approached the table. He slid a folder across the desk towards Cain. 

"Fifty thousand dollars to explore a foreign planet known to contain violent and aggressive creatures." Barber said as Cain opened the folder. 

"You may be strong, Cain, but to be frank — I wouldn't suck dick for fifty-thousand dollars." 

"Point is — you were scammed." 

"I'm here to treat you better." Barber eyed the man in black again. 

He approached and slid another folder across the table. 

"One-hundred acres. Right here in Greenland and not far from the Gate, it's only an hour's helicopter away. It's secluded in the mountains and there's an old mineshaft already on the property. Take a look." Barber leaned back in her chair and returned to her coffee. 

Meanwhile Cain, who's heart was pounding, opened the folder. In it was depicted a valley of undesirable mush. Nothing but ice and mud, the valley of slop ran through two opposing mountains. On the side of one mountain, a metal door encapsulated by cobblestone protruded into the snow. 

Beneath those pictures, more images of the inside of the mineshaft lay. The mineshaft was not extensive. Within it, three passageways diverged. 

The first ran straight into the mountain, extending by only about a kilometer. The second continued further into the depths of the earth, traveling downward some four kilometers. The last path, unbelievably, went nowhere. 

The last path took a sharp right turn. About a hundred feet into the mountain is where the third path diverged. It neither ascended in elevation nor depressed. Instead, the path led to a carved out section of the mineshaft where the miners previously lived as, due to the severe weather conditions found in Greenland, the miner's couldn't possibly survive out in the snow. 

This naturally begged the question how Cain will survive the snow but, well he actually sorted that out earlier — the cold didn't bother him anyway. 

Objectively speaking, the land was a generous offer and Cain was smart enough to realize this. Although only a month had passed, the flights to Greenland were infinitely booked. 

Some researchers dared brave the weather and attempted to cross the sea, but those people were the minority. 

The usable land in Greenland, especially due to the negative temperatures year round, was going to be devoured in a matter of months. Cain was sure, once people learned of the value beholden to the Gate, Greenland would instantaneously expedite itself into a position of world power. 

A piece of that pie, a slice of that cake, any usable and functional part of land that the entire planet would soon covet is a gift as tantamount as a Holy Relic. 

In other words, the offer was exorbitant. 

"Alright —" Cain bit, "and what exactly would you like me to do?" 

The Secretary-General rummaged through her inside coat pocket. From it, she pulled a printed photo small enough to fit in a man's wallet. 

She slid it across the table face-down. 

Cain picked it up. 

The picture described an aged gentleman in a gray, lined suit with maroon accents. He wore a matching hat, smoked a cigar, and wore gold jewelry. The picture depicted him exiting some sort of bank and entering a limousine, but he stepped over dirt roads and the bank behind him was caked in graffiti. 

"That man is Emilio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa and he controls South America from behind the scenes." 

"I need him to disappear." 

"Do that for me and everything in that folder is yours —" She stared at Cain, "I'll even throw in enough money to build whatever you want there. Do we have a deal?" 

Cain thought for a moment. 

"Is there a time limit?" He asked. 

"The next UN meeting is in two months." Barber stood up whilst the man in black held the room's door open, "Before then." 

As Secretary-General Barber stepped through the door, Cain's voice caught her attention. 

"Deal." 

Sly smirk across her face, Barber left — her heels fading alongside her departure. 

///LostNoteFound///

Hey hey hey! Happy Friday!! Thanks to WalkingBush, DevilGod_of_Chaos, AND Anubis_Rio!!!

Special shoutout to Anubis_Rio — his first lapidation in our little community! And if you don't know what lapidation means, it's in authors thoughts ;)