Timeline: During Elijah's Time as Leo Jerkins at (Jerkin Base)
Location: Jerkin base Compound - Elijah's Quarters / Aethelora Headquarters
The office was bathed in the cold glow of computer screens and dim desk lamps. Shadows stretched across the polished floor, pooling in corners like dark water. The hum of the air conditioning was the only sound, a steady drone that seemed to amplify the tension in the room.
Indira Voss sat behind her desk, the phone pressed to her ear. Her posture was rigid, her jaw tight, her eyes blazing with cold fury. The pen in her hand trembled slightly—a detail she would have hated if she noticed it.
"Who is this?" she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding.
A giggle echoed through the line—light, playful, almost girlish. It was disorienting, completely at odds with the tension of the moment. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, filling the silence with an unsettling cheerfulness.
"Well, well," the voice said, carrying a note of theatrical delight. "It's your biggest fan in the whole wide world! Who do you think is calling, deary?"
Indira's fingers tightened around the phone. Her voice carried a note of venomous contempt. "Listen here, you little—whoever you are. Stop messing with me, or you'll find yourself in a world of trouble. Do you understand?"
The voice on the other end let out a dramatic exhale—a sound of mock exasperation.
"Waaah. Why so grumpy, deary? I'm just trying to be your friend. Is that so wrong? Can't a girl make a new friend these days?"
Indira's gaze shifted to the man standing in the corner of her office. He was wiry, with sharp features and a perpetual frown etched into his face. He wore a crisp, dark polo shirt and slacks—the uniform of someone who took his job seriously. A tablet was clutched in his hands, its screen glowing with lines of code.
His name was Derek, and he was the head of Aethelora's cybersecurity division. He had been in the game for fifteen years, had seen everything from corporate espionage to state-level intrusions. He had never looked this pale.
She grabbed a pen and scribbled a note on a piece of paper, sliding it across the desk toward him.
"Try to track the call. Now."
Derek nodded, his movements quick and efficient. His fingers flew across the tablet, lines of code appearing on the screen. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts.
The voice continued, shifting into a different tone—deeper, older, like that of a grizzled detective who had seen too much.
"Wait. So far, so good. But remember—one who is not a Judas can be a gracious friend. But the one who lacks patience... well, they find themselves on a much narrower road. One that leads downward. One that leads to the dark."
The voice shifted again, turning cold, menacing. The warmth drained from it like blood from a wound.
"Be a friend, deary. And don't try to cheat. I can see you. I can see all of you. I can see the way you're holding that pen, the way your knuckles are white. I can see the man in the corner, the one with the tablet. He's trying to trace me. That's not very nice, is it?"
Derek's face went pale. His hands trembled, the tablet nearly slipping from his grasp. He looked up at Indira, his eyes wide with genuine fear.
"He's not bluffing," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "He's inside our system. He can see everything. Every camera. Every microphone. I don't know how, but he's everywhere."
Indira's jaw tightened. She forced her voice into a calm, controlled tone, though the effort was visible in the strain of her features.
"What do you want?"
The voice shifted again—playful, boyish, almost cheerful. It was like listening to a child describe their favorite toy.
"Well, of course! I want you to say it. Say that the ledger is a joke. Say that those tax fools are, well, fools. And say that you'll continue being the darling princess that those losers worship and adore. Go on. Say it. I'm waiting."
Indira's expression was one of confusion and upset. She stared at the phone, her mind racing. Her cheeks flushed, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"What? That doesn't make any sense. Why would I—"
The voice turned hoarse, carrying a note of cold threat. The playfulness was gone, replaced by something ancient and patient.
"Say it. Say it like you mean it. I don't have all night, deary. I have other things to do. Other people to play with."
Indira's hands trembled. Her eyes were wet, but she refused to let the tears fall. She swallowed hard, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.
"Fine. The... the ledger is a joke. Those tax fools are fools. And I'll continue being the darling princess that those losers worship and adore."
The line was silent for a moment. Indira's breath came in short, ragged gasps.
Then the voice returned, carrying a note of bright satisfaction. The playfulness was back, but there was something deeper beneath it—a dark amusement that made Indira's skin crawl.
"There. Was that so hard? You did wonderfully, deary. I'm so proud of you."
The line clicked. The call was disconnected.
---
The silence that followed was deafening.
Derek stared at Indira, his expression one of confusion and fear. His hands were shaking, the tablet now resting on his lap.
"Director... should we be worried?" he asked, his voice hesitant. "Whoever that was—they knew things. They knew about the cameras. They knew about—"
Indira's eyes snapped toward him, her voice cold and sharp. "It's probably just some dimwit thief. Someone who got lucky. They wouldn't dare expose our crimes—they know who owns this place. Someone not to be messed with."
Derek hesitated, his voice barely a whisper. "But what if—"
Indira's voice dropped, carrying a note of cold menace that silenced him instantly.
"You will not speak a word of what happened here. Is that understood?"
Derek nodded quickly, his face pale. "Yes, Director. Of course. I understand completely."
He turned and left the room, his steps quick and silent.
---
The office fell silent, save for the faint hum of the computer. Indira stared at the phone, her expression one of cold fury.
Whoever you are, she thought, her internal voice carrying a note of dark promise. I will find you. And when I do, you will regret ever crossing me.
But even as she thought it, a seed of doubt took root in her mind.
What if he's right? What if he can see everything?
She reached for the cream on her desk—the jar of pale, shimmering substance that had become her obsession. Her fingers brushed against its smooth surface, and for a moment, she hesitated.
What if this is connected?
The shadows in the room seemed to grow longer, deeper.
---