Chapter 407: TMC

The limousine glided down the highway. Alexander sat facing them, watching the cityscape pass while Stephen and the TMC leader occupied the opposite seat.

"It’s good to see you made it back," said the TMC leader, breaking the silence as he adjusted his jacket. "When I saw you had vanished, I brought everyone back here. Royal guards sent people to capture your friend, the mayoress; everything went to hell fast."

Alexander clenched his fists and let out a sigh.

"I know, they told me when I got back," said Alexander. "I would’ve returned sooner, but they found the friend they were hunting and almost killed her. I saved her... I need to head back and help her."

"What happened over there?" asked Stephen, leaning forward.

"Big Black was behind the fall of her kingdom and almost killed us," explained Alexander. "I stopped him, and during the chase, I ended up back here."

Stephen narrowed his eyes, stroking his jaw.

"Sandoria... Sandoria, how didn’t I realize it sooner? Sandoria is registered under Big Black’s jurisdiction as a realm under advanced conquest. Is that going to be an issue, boss?"

The TMC leader offered a smirk, gazing out the window.

"Not in the slightest," said the TMC leader. "If he were alive, perhaps; he could invoke his legal claim over that territory. But now that he’s dead, nobody is going to give a damn about what his survivors have to say. So rest easy."

The TMC leader adjusted his cufflinks and fixed his eyes on Alexander.

"Leaving that matter aside, do you have an idea of the mess you’ve caused?" asked the leader.

"No, sir," replied Alexander. "I was only thinking about killing him; I didn’t think about consequences."

"At least you admit what you’ve done, but now I’ll tell you what it cost," said the leader, leaning into his seat. "The moment the Invasion Protocol was activated, every federation and faction with Platinum-rank members was notified about you. We can’t sweep this disaster under the rug, and the World Federation will have to make decisions."

"What kind of decisions?" asked Alexander.

"Listen closely," continued the leader in a grave tone. "There is a pact establishing that every member of the World Federation is part of a whole; meaning, we look out for each other, we protect each other, and this maintains the status quo. Going around killing people because you don’t like them would throw the world into chaos, wouldn’t you agree? Unless the feud is rooted in a sin tolerated by neither God nor man, no one has the right to start a war here. If everyone did that, the world would end."

Alexander connected the dots before speaking up.

"Since I killed Big Black and he alerted everyone, they’ll want to make an example out of me," said Alexander.

"Pretty much, yeah," nodded the TMC leader. "It remains to be seen what decision they make, but they will want to make an example of you."

Stephen cut in, waving a hand.

"Stop scaring the kid," said Stephen. "No federation is going to war over a dead man. Let everything cool down and things will sort themselves out like nothing happened."

The TMC leader raised an eyebrow and let out a sigh.

"If you’re this soft on your boys, they’ll never learn to act with prudence."

"Are you talking to me about prudence?" smirked Stephen. "Only someone who doesn’t know you would buy your talk."

Before the argument could escalate, the limousine pulled up in front of a skyscraper with dark glass, breaking the tension.

"Follow me," said the leader.

The three stepped out of the vehicle and crossed the lobby into the elevator, ascending to the top floor. The doors slid open to reveal an executive office. Across the mahogany desk lay thick, neatly stacked folders.

Alexander stared at them, his gaze drawn to the volume of records.

"Take a seat," said the TMC leader, moving to his desk. "Check what’s inside the folders, don’t worry. It’s all about you."

Alexander stepped closer, picked up a file, and began flipping through pages. His eyes narrowed at the level of detail: listed there were every mission he had completed, who he had slept with, how many weapons he had used, how many rounds he had fired, where he had been, where he had exited, and everyone he had spoken to.

"We have one just like it for every TMC agent," said the leader, pulling out a cigar cutter and lighting a thick cigar. "Care for one?"

"No, thanks, I don’t smoke cigars," said Alexander, closing the file.

The leader took a drag, blowing out a column of spicy smoke.

"Alright, your loss," said the leader, admiring the glowing tip. "These cigars are brought in from a world called Vulcan. It’s made of lava; a special plant grows there from which they’re made. Nobody forgets the taste once they’ve had a hit."

The man let out a chuckle, flicking ash into a crystal ashtray before resting his elbows on the desk.

"Let’s get back to business. Do you know what TMC stands for?"

"No, sir, I have no idea," said Alexander, keeping his tone even.

"The Milf Club," replied the leader with a grin. "A club originally made for the purpose of fucking and securing resources. The worlds around us and every single one we come into contact with are always suffering from a shortage of men. Everything over there is war, chaos, and destruction."

Stephen let out an amused grunt from the sofa, while the leader carried on unfazed.

"When we rebelled against the system and started slaughtering the former masters of the world regime, all I ever wanted was a world at peace. My dream was to live quietly in this world; however, everything requires resources, and rich bitches are more than happy to hand those resources over in exchange for a thick, veiny dick. Their mouths water looking at it. So I created this organization, because a war doesn’t fund itself."