Chapter 573: The Corporate Sponsor, and The Tailored Arsenal

Kylus deactivated his thermal cutter and attached the hilt to his belt. “We cannot simply walk into a corporate stronghold. The security grids will flag our weapons at the door, and a firefight in the penthouses will bring the entire orbital enforcement fleet down on our heads.”

Before Xavier could formulate a response, the hangar’s massive overhead projector flared to life. The harsh yellow floodlights dimmed as a towering holographic projection of a human man in an immaculate silver suit illuminated the bay.

The man possessed sharp features, silver hair, and a highly calculating gaze.

“Your Aurelian is entirely correct, Captain Xavier,” the projection stated, his deep voice echoing through the hangar’s speaker system. “A frontal assault on the PurpleSpring Penthouses would be tactical suicide.”

Rin immediately drew his swords again. Reva raised her kinetic rifle toward the projector lens.

“Stand down,” Xavier ordered his crew. He folded his arms and looked up at the towering hologram. “You hijacked a secure, closed-circuit terminal just to give me tactical advice? Who are you?”

“I am CEO Malakor of the Apex Conglomerate,” the man introduced himself with a slight, cultured bow. “I was just watching your incredibly entertaining live broadcast. Your utter disregard for the Venom Syndicate was refreshing, to say the least.”

Xavier smirked. “I aim to please my audience. What do you want, Malakor?”

“I want to offer you a sponsorship,” Malakor replied smoothly. “I know exactly why you are here. You want the biological keys held by those three mutineers so you can access the subterranean vault. Unfortunately, those men are currently under the strict protection of my primary business rival, CEO Lorde.”

Malakor clasped his hands behind his back. The projection shifted to display a secondary image of a heavy-set alien heavily guarded by corporate enforcers.

“Lorde is attending the masquerade tonight,” Malakor explained. “If you try to extract the keys, his private army will slaughter you. However, if you agree to assassinate Lorde during the gala, I will personally blind the penthouse security grids. I will ensure you can extract the mutineers quietly, and I will disable the vault’s primary fail-safes so you can walk out with your stolen treasure completely uncontested.”

‘He wants me to do his dirty work in exchange for an open door,’ Xavier thought, weighing the tactical advantage. ‘It saves us days of hacking and avoids a planetary lockdown.’

Xalvoria crossed her arms and scoffed at the hologram. “You humans and your endless bureaucratic scheming. Just level the building and take what you want.”

Xavier ignored the Empress and nodded at the projection. “Disable the weapon scanners at the front entrance, Malakor. We have a deal.”

“Excellent,” Malakor smiled thinly. “I have already transferred a generous clothing allowance to your account. Do try to dress the part, Captain. The elites of Vandermis Aventine have very strict standards.”

The hologram flickered and vanished, plunging the hangar back into its normal lighting. Xavier looked over his crew’s blood-splattered armor and dusted off his own jacket.

“Alright, guys,” Xavier announced. “We need formal wear, masks, and a way to conceal our weapons. Let’s go shopping.”

The crew stepped through the sliding glass doors of The Velvet Nebula, the most exclusive boutique in Vandermis Aventine’s commercial sector. The shop featured gleaming marble floors, hovering display mannequins, and an atmosphere thick with the scent of overpriced synthetic floral perfumes.

A slender, four-armed alien attendant rushed forward with a welcoming smile, only to freeze when he registered the blood-splattered armor and heavy weaponry covering the group.

‘This place is way too delicate for us,’ Xavier thought as he casually stepped over a pristine white rug to avoid staining it.

He tapped his datapad and transferred Malakor’s provided allowance directly to the boutique’s main terminal.

[ Payment Accepted: 500,000 USC. VIP Service Activated. ]

The attendant’s terrified expression instantly melted into absolute devotion. He clapped his four hands together and ushered them toward the sprawling private fitting rooms in the back.

“We are attending the masquerade gala at the PurpleSpring Penthouses tonight,” Xavier instructed the tailor. “We need high-society formal wear and matching masks. More importantly, the clothing must conceal our personal hardware.”

The next hour devolved into a chaotic blend of high fashion and tactical geometry.

Lyra strutted out of her fitting room wearing a backless sapphire gown featuring a daring thigh-high slit. She spun around to face the mirror, looking incredibly elegant until she unceremoniously lifted the expensive silk to strap a plasma dagger directly to her thigh.

“I definitely won the wardrobe contest,” Lyra announced, admiring her reflection. “I look like a literal goddess, and I can still snap a neck without tearing the fabric.”

The adjacent curtain was aggressively pulled aside. Reva stepped out wearing a form-fitting dress that hugged her curves flawlessly. She offered Lyra a highly condescending smirk before sliding a compact, armor-piercing pistol into a hidden garter belt.

“You look like a cheap distraction,” Reva countered smoothly. “This is what actual elegance looks like. Try not to trip over your own heels while I handle the real targets.”

Lyra sparked a tiny, threatening flame over her index finger. “Say that again, leech.”

“Both of you look fine,” Rin grumbled from across the room, completely ignoring their escalating rivalry.

The swordsman scowled at his own reflection. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit, but the fabric violently bunched up around his shoulders. He was actively wrestling with the tailored jacket, trying to figure out a way to conceal his massive twin swords across his back without looking like a deformed hunchback.

Rin forcefully shifted his shoulders, and a loud rip echoed through the boutique as the seam split open. The four-armed tailor let out a tragic gasp and nearly fainted against a display counter.

“We are infiltrating the PurpleSpring Penthouses to assassinate Lorde,” Rin complained, ripping the ruined jacket off entirely. “I cannot do my job if I am trapped in a straightjacket.”

Requiem stepped out of the largest dressing room wearing a custom-stitched, oversized trench coat that successfully hid his skeletal frame and most of his mechanical joints. He patted Rin on the shoulder. “Just leave the swords on the ship. Use your hands.”

Xalvoria stood near the center pedestal and completely refused to touch anything the attendants brought her. She crossed her arms and glared at the racks of clothing. ‘I will not wrap myself in the cheap fabrics of mortals.’

Xavier walked over and picked a stunning, deep crimson dress trimmed with gold off a private display. He held it out to the Empress. “Put this on. You can go back to wearing your ancient robes after we get the vault keys.”

Xalvoria snatched the hanger from his grip with a scoff, though her golden eyes lingered on the intricate lacework.

She disappeared behind a curtain to change.

Xavier finally turned to his own mirror. He adjusted the lapels of a sharp midnight-blue suit, testing his range of motion. He reached beneath his tailored jacket and cleanly drew his sidearm, satisfied with the seamless draw speed.

He slid a sleek, silver half-mask over his face, perfectly completing the high-society mercenary aesthetic.

“Alright, guys,” Xavier called out, checking his chronometer. “The gala is starting. Let’s go crash a party.”