What was that? I have Wilder Force hidden in my body? I need to find a way to see that again.
Marcus paused, realizing that his priorities were a bit obscured. He hadn't forgotten about those pupils. This was the second time he had seen them, the first being when he dragged Calvin into a vision.
"Could that have been my [Mind's Eye]?"
He wondered. The sensation he experienced when his sight came from the red pupils was similar to how he felt when he first activated the ability, but this was more potent than the first time.
And the fact that it was able to release Spiritual energy made him feel strongly that it was his [Mind's Eye].
To add to all of this, his mental stats had been drained. He felt the urge to sleep, and he wanted to resist it as he was curious about a lot of things.
However, his mind required that rest more than it wanted answers to these questions. Dragging his body to the chair he was seated on, Marcus slumped onto it and passed out.
Right before he passed out, he made a mental note to never drain his mental stats till they're empty again.
…
July 18th
Federal Housing Estate.
Eawan.
"Come in, Bravo 003. This is Control. Your patrol station has been updated. Switch with Gas 081 on the second floor."
Marcus adjusted his grip on the rifle slung across his chest as he moved toward the villa's entrance. The team had begun their systematic rotation—where those outside were replacing the ones inside.
It wasn't unusual for Control to shuffle their positions. But for someone of Marcus's rank, an Iron Marshal, such last-minute reassignments were optional. He hadn't been briefed in advance, meaning he could have refused the order without consequence.
Still, he saw no reason to object.
"Bravo 003, roger."
With a nod to Gas 081, Marcus headed up the stairway toward the second floor.
The floor was split into wings, with guards stationed at each end—mirroring the dozens patrolling below. Gas 081's post had been right in front of the client's room. That would now be Marcus's.
Approaching the door, knocked once.
"Come in," a female voice said from within.
Opening the door, Marcus stepped in.
The room was warmer than he expected—plush leather cushions, a muted TV humming softly in a corner, and a minibar fully stocked against the far left wall. On the right was a half-open bedroom door.
Though he had memorized the villa's blueprint, this was Marcus's first time inside the client's suite. His purpose wasn't social, just a routine recon of the interior layout, assessing sightlines, blind spots, and so on.
"Control, Bravo 003. Initiating room inspection for Golden Goose at 22:31." He said into his comms.
"Roger that, proceed."
Sitting on one of the cushions, legs crossed and a wine glass in hand, was Susan Aussy Bale—the client. The "Golden Goose."
Fair-skinned to the point of pallor, her complexion was nearly translucent under the dim lights. Her long blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder in carefully arranged waves. Her green eyes held a lazy charm in them.
She was in a silken grey robe, barely tied at the waist.
Susan watched him in silence as she placed the rim of the glass right below her lips. She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
Marcus moved with purpose—eyes sweeping the walls, corners, and furniture. Every movement was planned. In less than a minute, his inspection was complete.
He turned to leave—but stopped.
Susan had moved silently and was now leaning against the door, barring his path with her body.
"You come into a woman's room at this hour, do all you please, and then try to leave without a word?" she said softly, though her words were slurred. "Aren't you quite the player?'
Her breath reeked faintly of wine—expensive, strong, and too much of it.
"Ms. Susan, you're intoxicated," Marcus said with a clipped tone. "Please return to your seat."
"Don't worry I hold my liquor well. Haven't even had half of what I can handle." Susan purred as she placed a hand on Marcus's chest. She leaned into him, putting her body weight and pressing slightly against his bulletproof vest. "Why don't you come join me for a drink or two? I promise, I don't bite… too much." She bit her lower lip and giggled at her words.
Standing still, and uninterested in her advances. His eyes remained steady and his voice was professional. "I'm on duty, Ms. Susan. I apologize, I can't indulge. Now please, excuse me." With that being said, he placed his hands on her shoulder and tried to move her out of the way.
Susan staggered forward, attempting to place her head on his chest, only to realize that his upper abdomen was covered with a bulletproof vest.
"Hmm… quite cold." She uttered, her voice tinged with disappointment as he stepped past her.
"Come on, please. Stay." Susan pleaded. This time, her voice sounded clear, as though she was in her right mind. "I'm scared of staying here by myself. At least stay until I fall asleep."
"If you are feeling unsafe, I'll have Control send someone to stay—"
"No," She interrupted, her tone insistent. "I want you."
Before Marcus could say anymore, a voice cracked through his earpiece. "Bravo 003, stay with the Missus until she falls asleep."
The voice from Control said.
His jaw tightened as he turned toward the corner of the ceiling, locking eyes with the discreet camera nestled above. Someone had been watching the entire exchange.
"Roger," he replied professionally.
Susan started to giggle, her drunken charm resurfaced.
"Don't worry," She said, walking back toward her wine glass, "I'll behave. Once I'm asleep, you're free to leave."
She tossed him a coy glance over her shoulder as she moved, her robe slipped slightly, revealing more of her thigh with each step. She didn't bother adjusting it—if anything, she leaned into the exposure. Her actions were slow and deliberate.
Marcus exhaled through his nose. This is going to be a long night.
…