June 7, 2007. Somewhere in South America
The mountain rose above the treeline, its face swallowed by jungle. Thick canopy pressed against the rock from every angle, vines and roots threading through stone like the forest was slowly pulling the mountain apart. The air was heavy and wet, the smell of earth and bark and something ancient hanging between the trees.
Rafa, Laura, and Wakely pushed through the last stretch of dense undergrowth and stopped.
The door was enormous. Easily four stories tall, its iron frame long surrendered to the jungle. The metal faded from whatever it once was into a deep, weathered green, almost indistinguishable from the moss that blanketed every surface. Thick vines draped across it from top to bottom, threading through the cracks and hinges, anchoring themselves into the stone frame. The lower half was buried beneath a dense carpet of living moss, soft and dark.
Whatever marking or insignia had once been pressed into the iron was gone entirely, consumed.
It looked less like a door and more like the mountain had simply grown one.
Then it opened. No touch, no signal. Just the groan of ancient iron and the slow exhale of the mountain, vines splitting apart as warm green light bled through the widening gap.
Warm air rushed through the gap as the door opened fully, carrying with it the smell of metal, smoke, and something chemical underneath.
They stepped inside.
The first thing that hit Rafa was the scale of it.
They were standing on an upper walkway, a narrow bridge of rusted iron railing stretching ahead of them, and below, far below, the market breathed. Levels upon levels carved into the mountain's interior, each floor a maze of stalls, crates, hanging lanterns, and moving bodies. Bridges and catwalks threaded between the walls like veins, connecting one tier to the next. Pipes ran along every surface, some hissing faint steam, others glowing faintly with a pale green light that bled upward through the entire cavern.
The walls themselves were alive with it, moss and mineral both, green patterns crawling across the stone in veins and spirals, lit from within by something that had no natural explanation. It made the whole interior pulse, like standing inside something breathing.
Noise drifted up from the floors below. Voices overlapping, the clatter of goods changing hands, the occasional sharp crack of something mechanical.
Rafa stood at the railing and looked down, saying nothing.
Wakely stepped beside him, her eyes drifting down to the floors below. "Intrigued, aren't ya?"
Rafa's gaze stayed on the market beneath them. "This is basically a living market, what can I say." His eyes were tracking the stalls and people below them.
Wakely smiled, "Come, let me show you the place for you to trade something good and advanced like that core."
"Oh, okay." Rafa pushed off the railing and followed her without another word.
They took the stairs on the wall, descending slowly, the metal steps worn smooth from years of use. The noise grew louder with each floor they passed, voices and clatter rising to meet them.
When they reached the bottom, Rafa's eyes began to wander.
To his left, a fish restaurant tucked between two stalls, its front open and steaming. Men and women sat hunched over low tables, eating from bowls, the smell of grilled fish and broth drifting thick into the walkway. It looked surprisingly good.
To his right, a weapons stall. Blades, modified firearms, and things Rafa couldn't name were hung across the wall in rows, a heavyset man behind the counter polishing a short barrel without looking up.
The road beneath their boots was stone, old and mossy at the edges, green creeping between the gaps. But the center was clean, swept, almost deliberately maintained despite everything around it.
Further ahead, a merchant sat cross-legged behind jars of glowing liquid in different colors, each one humming faintly.
Next to him, a stall selling maps, some of places Rafa recognized, most he didn't.
Laura walked ahead, unbothered, clearly familiar with all of it. Wakely moved at Rafa's side, hands in her pockets.
Then they stopped.
A bar stood before them.
It rose above everything else on the floor, two levels tall, its entrance wide open and spilling warm green-tinted light onto the brick road. A symbol of an eye sign hung above the entrance, no name, just eye ringed with jagged lines and glowed faint of neon green. The kind of place that didn't need a name because everyone already knew it.
Inside, the space was divided cleanly.
To the left, booths lined the wall, each one sectioned off by glass panels that caught the green light and scattered it softly. The seating was wide and low, deep sofas that swallowed whoever sat in them. In one booth, four men were deep in a poker game, chips stacked, cards flicked, laughter breaking out every few minutes.
The middle of the floor belonged to the pool tables, four of them arranged in two pairs. Cues cracked against balls, the sound sharp and satisfying, a small cluster of people watching the far pair with casual interest.
To the right, mirror image of the left, more glass-divided booths, more sofa seating. But in there, two men sat across a chess board, the crowd around them more animated than anyone else in the room, leaning in, muttering, someone slapping another's arm every time a piece moved.
Rafa's eyes caught it immediately. He drifted toward it without thinking, stepping past Laura and Wakely.
A man taller than him glanced. "You play chess, mini man?"
"Sometimes, I'm not that good at chess" Rafa smiled to the man.
The man grinned, patting his shoulder once before turning back to the board. A woman nearby nodded at him. Nobody questioned him, nobody tensed. They just absorbed him into the moment like he'd always been there.
Laura suddenly appeared at his side, her hand lightly pulling his arm. "We got a mission to do, Rafa." she said quietly.
Rafa followed.
At the far end of the bar, behind the counter, sat someone.
He was leaning back against a large chair, one leg crossed over the other, a single finger tracing slow, idle circles on the counter surface. His half-lidded eyes drifted across the room like a man watching paint dry, thoroughly unbothered.
His build was lean and feminine, shoulders narrow, posture almost elegant despite the boredom carved into his expression. Gray-white hair fell loosely, a single black strand cutting across the rest. A sleeveless black shirt, arms bare, white long pants somehow spotless.
Then his eyes landed on Laura and Wakely. Something shifted, not quite a smile, but close.
"Hello, beauties. How are you today?" His voice was smooth and unhurried, carrying across the counter like he'd been expecting them all along.
Laura smiled. "We're good, Slyt. You?"
"Bored to death, darling." He gestured lazily at the room around him. "Same faces, same trades. You know how it is." His finger finally stopped tracing the counter.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the surface, eyes sliding between Laura and Wakely before landing on Rafa. "And who is this quiet little thing you brought with you?"
"This is Rafa. New guy." Laura said simply.
Rafa raised his hand and gave a single wave.
Slyt waved back, his smile widening just slightly. "Adorable."
"Anyway." Wakely stepped forward, cutting through the pleasantries, dropping the glowing core onto the counter with a firm thud. "We have something for you."
Slyt's eyes dropped to it immediately. The boredom vanished.
Slyt's finger stopped mid-trace. Both eyes opened fully for the first time since they walked in.
"Where did you get this?" His voice dropped, the theatrical warmth gone, replaced by something sharper.
"Serovian basecamp." Wakely answered flatly.
Slyt didn't respond. He was already reaching for it, pulling the core closer with both hands. His fingers moved across the casing with surprising precision, pressing along the edges, feeling for seams. He found one, then another, his nails slipping into the gaps and peeling the outer shell back piece by piece, dismantling it with bare hands like someone who had done this a thousand times before.
The inner mechanism glowed faintly as he opened it, casting pale light across his face.
He was quiet for a long moment, eyes moving across every component.
"This is a generator." he finally said, his tone low and certain. He turned a small piece over in his fingers. "The voltage output on this thing..." he trailed off, reaching under the counter for a small device and pressing it against the core. The reading flickered, then stabilized.
Slyt looked up slowly. "Thirteen times ten to the ninth. Thirteen gigavolts."
Laura leaned closer. "So, is it valuable?"
"Valuable?" Slyt let out a short laugh, setting the device down. "Darling, this thing could power an entire city for a decade and still have leftovers. Where exactly did the Serovians think they were sending this much energy?"
"Up." Wakely said simply.
Slyt stared at her for a moment, then looked back down at the core. "Up... Wait, what do you mean up?"
"It's a portal generator." Wakely reached into her pocket to take out a cigarette. "The Serovians were trying to reach the Cosmic Beings."
Slyt stared at her for a long moment. Then he looked back at the core, then back at Wakely. He let out a slow breath through his nose.
"Of course they were." He carefully began reassembling the casing, his fingers moving with the same quiet precision as before. "Five million USD, i guess."
Laura glanced at Wakely. Wakely gave a single nod.
"Deal." Laura smiled.
Slyt smiled back, sliding the core to the side and reaching under the counter. A steel briefcase landed on the surface with a heavy thud. He turned it toward them and clicked it open. Stacks of bills, neat and dense, filled every section.
Rafa stared at it for a second, then looked at Slyt. "Where the fuck does that kind of money even come from?"
Slyt leaned forward on the counter, resting his chin on his hand, smile spreading wide. "Honey, when you are the most trusted illegal distributor in all of the continents, money stops being a question and starts being a consequence." He tapped the briefcase once. "Don't ask where it comes from. Ask what it can do."
Wakely lit it the cigarrette, then exhaled slowly. "Might as well donate some of it to charity."
Laura's face lifted. "Yeah... Actually, I have one in mind. Been wanting to donate them for a while."
Rafa nodded along, then glanced at the briefcase. "Sure, sure. Uhmm... Can I have a hundred bucks, for saving?"
Laura reached in without hesitation, peeled off a single bill, and held it out. "Here you go."
Rafa took it. "Thank you." He folded it once, tucked it into his pocket, then immediately turned and walked back toward the chess crowd.
Wakely watched him go with the cigarette between her lips. The corner of her mouth pulled up, showing a smile.
Slyt's eyes followed Rafa across the room, watching him slip back into the chess crowd like he belonged there.
"So." Slyt turned back to Laura and Wakely, both hands folding neatly on the counter. "Who exactly is he?"
"Like i said, a new member." Wakely exhaled smoke to the side.
"I can see that." Slyt's eyes drifted back toward Rafa briefly. "But there's something off about him. He doesn't feel like a regular person."
Laura and Wakely exchanged a glance.
Slyt caught it immediately. His eyes narrowed, a slow smile spreading. "Ohh..., that's interesting."
"Don't dig into it, Slyt." Wakely tapped ash from her cigarette.
"I'm not digging." Slyt leaned back into his chair, fingers lacing together. "I'm just observing. He walked in here, strangers patted his shoulder inside two minutes, and he took a hundred dollars for savings like a child." He paused. "And yet something about him made me want to sit up straight when he walked through that door."
Laura smiled faintly, saying nothing.
Slyt's smile faded. He looked at Laura, then at Wakely, then back at Laura.
"That's it?" His voice carried a sharp edge. "That's all I get? A smile and nothing?"
Wakely took a long drag of her cigarette. "Yep."
Slyt's finger resumed its slow trace on the counter, but harder this time. "I just paid you guys five million dollars and you can't give me a straight answer about the man you walked in with."
"Correct." Wakely exhaled.
Slyt turned to Laura, his tone shifting, almost pleading. "Laura. Darling. Something. Anything."
Laura tilted her head slightly. "He's important."
"Important." Slyt repeated the word flatly. "Wonderful. Incredibly useful. Thank you so much."
Wakely stubbed her cigarette out on the counter edge and pushed off. "We should get going."
Slyt threw his hands up once, then let them drop. He sank back into his chair, the boredom returning to his face like it had never left, fingers resuming their idle trace on the counter.
"Come back when you learn how to have a proper conversation." he muttered.
Laura and Wakely crossed the room toward the chess crowd. Rafa was already leaning in close, his eyes fixed on the board, fully absorbed.
"Rafa." Wakely touched his arm. "We're leaving."
Rafa straightened slightly, his eyes not leaving the board. "I was just about to play."
"We need to go." Laura said, her tone gentle but firm.
"Come on, just one game—"
"Rafa."
He looked at her. She held his gaze, patient but unmovable.
Rafa exhaled through his nose. "Fine."
He glanced back at the two chess players one last time, then turned and followed Laura and Wakely toward the exit without another word.
#13 End.