The Black mamba

Dark clouds rolled across the sky, smothering the stars as black rain began to fall in relentless sheets. The storm had arrived. Thaurex stood by the window, his expression unreadable as he watched the rain carve trails down the glass.

A sudden clap of thunder shattered the silence, jolting him slightly. Behind him, the soft glow of a desk lamp flickered erratically. He turned, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he already knew what awaited him.

Under the flickering light sat two keycards and a severed finger. Sangetsu had succeeded. The Black Vault was unlocked, and now it called to him. There was no turning back.

Thaurex's hand hovered over his tablet before activating it, the device whirring to life. A holographic projection of Ruco appeared, her sharp gaze narrowing in annoyance.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone clipped.

Thaurex didn't look up, his focus lingering on the keycards. "I need your help," he said, his voice heavy with restrained emotion. "I think I've found Falethier."

In the same bar where Thaurex had once caused an outrage, he sat now, twisting and twirling a black keycard between his fingers. His gaze was fixed on it, equal parts awe and curiosity flickering in his eyes. The melancholic brown music muffled the sound of the rain pounding outside, blending seamlessly with the hum of chatter from the bar, crowded with species from across the universe.

Ruco entered, spotting Thaurex at the counter. He slid onto the seat beside him. "What do you mean you found Falethier?" Ruco asked sharply.

"Might," Thaurex emphasized, his voice low but firm. He placed the keycard on the counter and slid it toward Ruco.

Ruco picked it up, inspecting the dark surface that highlighted the faint, engraved image of a man. His eyes widened. "Valmor!" he exclaimed.

"Shhh," Thaurex hissed, glaring at him, then returning his gaze to the counter. A glass of whiskey sat between his curled fingers, untouched.

"How did you even get this?" Ruco asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and apprehension.

Thaurex exhaled deeply, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Sangetsu," he said.

Ruco froze, his expression shifting to one of shock. He stood abruptly, the stool scraping against the floor. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

Thaurex's fury ignited. He turned to Ruco, his voice sharp, his white eyes blazing with emotion. "My daughter is still alive. And I will fight until my last breath to bring her back!" His fist slammed onto the counter, rattling the glass and drawing a few curious glances.

Without waiting for a response, Thaurex reached into his coat and slammed a weathered yellow book onto the table. "Look," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ruco hesitated but eventually opened the book, flipping through its brittle, aged pages. His eyes widened as he took in the contents, and a whisper escaped his lips.

"Oh... my... God."

"Avitraux isn't a person," Thaurex began, his voice calm but laced with disdain. "It's an organization of independent scientists—pioneers of technology so advanced, some might mistake it for magic. But to create their miracles, they needed funding. So, they turned to selling weapons to corporations like Umbra Keep." He reached for his glass of whiskey, gently swirling the amber liquid as he spoke.

"Umbra Keep and Avitraux had an extraordinary partnership," he continued. "When Umbra Keep got wind of 'The Black Mamba,' they had to have it. They struck a deal with Avitraux: unlimited funding, billions—trillions, even—but on one condition. Once the Black Mamba was complete, it would belong to Umbra Keep, and only Umbra Keep."

Ruco, seated nearby, slid the yellow book back toward Thaurex. "So, what went wrong?" he asked, his tone edged with curiosity and caution.

Thaurex took a slow sip of whiskey, the sharp taste reflecting briefly in the grimace on his face. He set the glass down with deliberate care, his stark white eyes locking onto Ruco's. "The Black Mamba kept failing. Avitraux wanted to abandon the project, but Zaulkom wouldn't let them. Tensions ran high—high enough that several scientists were killed." He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Valmor, the right-hand man to Avitraux's creator, made a deal with Zaulkom. A bloody deal. He promised Zaulkom he would eliminate Avitraux's creator, take control of the organization, and continue developing the Black Mamba. The idea was music to Zaulkom's ears. And the rest," Thaurex added bitterly, "is history."

Ruco's gaze fell to the yellow book he had just returned. "And this book? What about the children in it?" he asked, his voice faltering slightly.

Thaurex leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Those children," he said slowly, "are the experiments. The Black Mamba. Or, as they're better known, the Children of the Black Mamba."

Ruco's face paled as he glanced back at the forced smiles of the children in the photographs. A sickening knot of horror twisted in his chest, unraveling whatever lingering trust he had in Umbra Keep.

"Turn to page 2022," Thaurex instructed quietly.

Ruco hesitated, flipping through the brittle pages with care until he reached it: a blank page with no picture, the same page five that had convinced him Falethier was connected to this sinister web. His voice shook as he asked, "What does this mean?"

Thaurex's eyes dropped to the whiskey before him, his grip tightening on the glass. "It means Falethier might... be in the Black Vault," he said, his voice heavy with guilt and urgency. "And I need your help."