The dance club pulsed with neon lights, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off every surface. The words "The Floating Canary" hovered in vibrant holographic letters, scattered throughout the room, their glow casting an otherworldly hue over the writhing crowd. The club sprawled across two floors, the upper level a suspended ring that offered a clear view of the chaos below. From the railings, patrons gazed down at the densely packed dance floor, a heaving sea of bodies—men, women, and halfbreeds danced in various states of undress, moving in hypnotic rhythm to the throbbing music.

Holographic ads floated midair, flickering between images of products, dancers, and surreal animations that merged seamlessly into the haze of light and sound. Screens mounted along the walls displayed sports, news streams, and shifting headlines, a dissonant backdrop to the primal energy on the floor. The air was thick with heat, excitement, and the faint hum of technology as sleek android servers navigated the throng, delivering glowing drinks with mechanical precision.

Ibris sat at a sleek, obsidian table reserved just for him, wearing DarkShades to sheild his eyes from the relentless glare of the holograms and advertisements. His fingers traced the cool, polished edge of the obsidian table as he briefly surveyed the scene. Above, the upper level buzzed with activity, patrons leaning against the railings or reclining at their own tables, their faces lit by the glow of the displays. Below, the dance floor was a blur of motion.

Ibris had just hung up with Yoshua, his mind still heavy with worry. The fluorescent lights of the club flickered above, but he barely noticed, lost in thought. Vega Serris, his old weapons dealer, had called a meeting, and he owed her a favor. Ibris' men had already alerted him to the strangely clad, silent security detail that had arrived a few hours earlier. The heavily armed men stationed themselves at the door, suggesting that Vega had brought someone of considerable significance and power.

Across the room, the snake halfbreed Vega made her entrance with a Ibis he did not recognize. Vega's presence instantly commanding attention. He had known her since the Atlantean Civil War, and their recent work deals had required them to meet more often. Generally, they preferred more discreet meeting places—dimly lit corners of the Underworld or at the Clinic — where they could speak freely without drawing attention. Today, however, she had insisted on meeting in this chaotic cesspool.

Her skin glimmered with faint scales that caught the club's lights, radiating an ethereal beauty. Long, flowing hair—almost a silvery blonde—cascaded down her shoulders, framing her captivating features. When they reached the table, Vega approached Ibris and leaned forward, her slitted yellow-green eyes sparkling with seductive charm as she kissed him on the cheek. "Ibris, darling," she said, flicking her long, forked tongue playfully as she spoke, exuding an intoxicating mix of allure and seduction. Ibris felt an undeniable attraction, captivated by her unique allure, and he couldn't help but wonder, as he had for years, what it would be like to be with her.

"I want to introduce you to Donatello Jose Cavialli," she purred, gesturing to the twenty-something man beside her. "He's the younger brother of Roberto Cavialli, the pharmaceutical mogul, and cousin to the newly elected Senator from Bahyan City, Hugo Lancasto."

Donatello with his slicked-back brown hair and confident smirk, exuded an air of entitlement. He wore an expensive suit that clung to his athletic frame, and as he lit a cigar, the flame flickered against his sharp features. Ibris tried not to grimace. There was something off-putting about Donatello that made Ibris' skin crawl.

"You can just call me Don," he said. His voice smooth but insincere, as he extended his hand for a shake. "Pleasure." Don's gaze fixated on Ibris' horns, a flicker of fascination mingled with something darker in his eyes. The way Don stared—just a little too long—made Ibris acutely aware of his own stature, a bull halfbreed in a world that often regarded him as a monster.

"Likewise," Ibris replied, a faint snarl creeping onto his lip. He removed his glasses to make eye contact before shaking Don's hand. He shook Don's hand, feeling the clammy grip and forcing himself to endure the contact. There was an unsettling energy radiating from the man, like a shadow lurking just beneath the surface, and Ibris couldn't shake the instinctive urge to pull away.

"You're a legend, ya know? Honestly, I thought you were just a myth." Don said, with overt feigned enthusiasm, and then took a long drag from his cigar, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "Vega's told me all about you."

"All good things, I hope," Ibris replied flatly, forcing a polite smile as he mentally scanned the loud, colorful club. Don's entitled attitude bored him. 

In the corner, a stunning halfbreed caught his eye. She had long, straight dark hair, with furry pointed ears peeking through, playfully bobbing with her every movement. The soft fur glimmered under the club's lights, adding an extra layer of charm to her already captivating presence. Her lithe body moved rhythmically to the music, exuding an effortless grace. Is that a cat halfbreed? Ibris wondered. Suddenly, the woman glanced in his direction, her eyes locking onto his. A playful smile curved her lips as she winked, then blew him a teasing kiss before returning to her dance, leaving Ibris momentarily stunned.

"Of course," Vega interjected, her gaze sharp as she noticed Ibris' focus on the other halfbreed woman. "Don's got an incredible record in business dealings and negotiations—especially negotiations."

"I'm a man of business," Don chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence, oblivious to Ibris' distraction. "With my experience with the Atlantean corporations and my family connections around the world, we could really help each other out."

As he spoke, Ibris barely registered the words, his attention still drawn to the dancing woman.

"You interested?" Don asked, finally noticing Ibris' gaze drifting to something behind him on the dance floor. With a smirk, he turned to look, but Ibris quickly shifted his focus back to Don, determined not to draw attention to the captivating cat halfbreed.

Ibris clenched his jaw, irritation simmering beneath the surface as he sought to wrap up the conversation swiftly. "I prefer to keep my business simple," he replied, curtly. "I'm not looking to get involved with politicians." The vibrant chaos of the club swirled around them as a the beat dropped.

"Right." Don raised an eyebrow, his smirk slipping for a second. "We all got people we wanna protect."

"I know the sky gods. They made me," Ibris said, almost a low growl. In his early life on the floating islands, he had lived among the sky god politicians, who wielded power like a weapon. They reveled in their authority, manipulating those beneath them and dismissing the struggles of the common folk and halfbreeds.

Ibris had experienced their cruelty firsthand. He had been created to be a showpiece for their grand Citadel and their precious Queen. Leaning in, he added, "They called me holy and sacred because I resembled the sacred Atlantean Bull and the great Mansa of the Gab Nori. Yet in the same breath, they beat and abused me in ways you could neither imagine nor survive."

Vega cleared her throat, her posture relaxed yet commanding, sensing the tension crackling in the air. "Ibris, Don didn't mean any offense or harm."

Don nodded, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of peace. "Exactly. That was all before the war."

Ibris felt rage rising inside him. I thought things would change after the war, he mused, his mind racing back to the hope that had flickered in the aftermath. But it only got worse.

Ibris shook his head, the frustration spilling over. "You think the war changed anything? It just drove the darkness underground." He paused, looking directly at Don. "The same horrors are still happening, just hidden away where no one can see them." What had once been done openly and legally had now slipped into the shadows of Atlantis, taking place in dark corners, illegally and under the table. Slavery, halfbreed trafficking, cruelty, and manipulation persisted, but in secret—far from the eyes of those who might hold the sky gods accountable.

Vega understood the truth of Ibris' words all too well as a halfbreed. The scars of her own experiences were still fresh, but given enough credits, she could heal her pain. She calmly placed a hand on both men, leaning in. "Let's not get off track," she said, glancing between Ibris and Don. "We're here to move forward. There's a deal to be made, and it deserves our full attention."

Ibris met her gaze, sternly. "Fine. Get to the point."

Don's expression darkened, irritation flickering in his eyes. He leaned forward, the smile that had once been on his lips vanishing, replaced by a more genuine, predatory look. "I don't do small talk either," he said, sharply. "But let's not forget—the sky gods are called gods for a reason," he added, a hint of reverence.

Ibris tensed, triggered by the underlying threat in Don's words. Vega could sense the shift in the air, aware that Ibris was on the brink of losing control and ready to confront this man physically.

It was only out of respect for Vega that Ibris remained seated. "I'm not interested," he said through clenched teeth, his frustration palpable. He was determined to find the cat halfbreed woman he'd lost in the depths of this neon jungle. As he scanned the thrumming crowd and the flickering lights, a sense of unease settled in—he could no longer spot her.

Vega leaned in, sensing the tension between Ibris and Don. "Let's take a breath, gentlemen," she urged, calmly. "Don's has access to Ashaelix that he is willing to-"

Ibris sat up, his interest piqued. "Ashaelix?" he interjected, curiosity slicing through his earlier disinterest. The medications name hung in the air, laden with implications. "Is your brother's company still producing it?"

Most pharmaceutical companies in Atlantis had halted Ashaelix production following the recent bans on quarzolene, a crucial active ingredient derived from the crystalline structure of emerald quartz, uniquely found in Alemuria. Quarzolene was not just a compound; it was a key enzyme in the metabolic processes of halfbreeds, essential for nearly all medications designed to address their unique health issues. The news streams framed the ban as a political embargo on trade with Alemuria, but Ibris knew the truth: it was really about suppressing halfbreed freedom and power.

Ibris tightened his jaw. He understood that Ashaelix was more than just a medication; it was a lifeline for many. Ibris felt uneasy in negotiations where he had no leverage—he didn't just want Ashaelix; he needed it.

Vega glanced between Ibris and Don, sensing that the discussion about Ashaelix could shift the balance of power in Don's favor. "Don has a contact who can produce quarzolene," she said, finally.

Skepticism clouding Ibris' features. His lips pressed into a thin line as he regarded them, the corners of his mouth barely twitching. "Quarzolene can't be bought as-is. It's not shelf-stable," he said, impatiently.

Don leaned forward, his posture tightening with a sharp edge. "Look, I get it. It ain't shelf-stable. It's gotta be mixed into a medication to actually work."

"Exactly," Vega interjected, confidently. "That's what Don is offering. His contact can create whatever medications you need—Ashaelix or otherwise." She glanced at Don, her snake tongue flicking as she added, "We have an opportunity to connect you with the manufacturer directly."

Ibris studied both of them, weighing their words against the backdrop of neon lights and pulsating music. The stakes were rising, and he could feel the tension thickening in the air.

Ibris' mind raced, a storm of thoughts spiraling within him. This was the golden goose, the solution he had been searching for. But revealing too much could jeopardize his position. He didn't like showing all his cards; it left him vulnerable. He felt trapped in a precarious situation, where the stakes were high and every word mattered.

Don leaned back, grinning slyly. "Listen, he ain't the easiest guy to deal with," he said, his eyes glinting with a mix of charm and menace. "But trust me, he'll come around if the incentive's right."

Ibris narrowed his eyes, studying Vega. "Is your contact in Atlantis?"

Vega's snake tongue flicked out as she considered the question, glancing at Don. "No, but he's very accessible."

"Is he Alemurian?" Ibris pressed, sensing the hesitation in their response.

Silence hung in the air between them. Neither Vega nor Don answered, their demeanors betraying nothing.

Ibris narrowed his gaze. "What do you want in return?"

Vega interjected quickly, before Ibris could change his mind. "Don wants to use your facility here in the Underworld for research that... isn't permitted in Atlantis."

Ibris' mind raced as he considered their proposal. Research and growth, he thought bitterly. Those was the term the sky gods used to justify the horrors inflicted on halfbreeds in labs across the Underworld before the war.

He shook his head, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "No," he said. "I'm not interested in being part of your research project." His expression hardened as he locked eyes with Don. Turning to Vega, he added, "You should be ashamed for bringing this to me, betraying your people's history."

The facilities Ibris now owned had originally been established over a century ago as secret labs, sites of illegal experimentation that ultimately led to the creation of halfbreeds. They were equipped with all the necessary tools for working with halfbreeds, making Don's request even more troubling. Ibris felt the weight of history pressing down on him, acutely aware of the dark legacy tied to those walls.

"Ibris, you misunderstand," Vega replied. "The research won't be on halfbreeds—it'll be on humans."

But Ibris remained unmoved. "I want no part in this," he stated firmly, his resolve unwavering. He turned to Vega and glared. "You thought it was a good idea to tell an outsider about my facilities?" Ibris thought, disgusted. The vibrant lights of the club cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"Don wants access to the Western facility," Vega explained.

Ibris owned five underground facilities hidden deep within the Underworld—sprawling labs carved from the very shadows of the dark city. The two largest had been transformed into the Clinic, a hospital dedicated to halfbreeds, offering vital care and refuge. Vega was aware of only one other facility, so Ibris knew precisely which facility she was asking about.

Ibris shook his head, resolutely. "I see." Frustration bubbled within him, directed squarely at Vega. "Tell me about this research."

An uneasy silence hung between them as Don and Vega exchanged glances again. Then Don broke the tension. "Look, we wanna experiment with altered halfbreed blood on humans to make specialized STIMs."

"What kind of STIMs?" Ibris asked, curtly.

"You know, the kind soldiers and athletes could use to make 'em faster, smarter, and stronger... maybe permanently." Don said, smirking.

Ibris felt a surge of anger and betrayal. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface began to boil over as he growled and huffed.

"Listen, this could work out for you, Ibris." Vega insisted, trying to soothe him. "And Don can help you acquire halfbreed blood for your blood bank too. It's a win-win."

"Where exactly is Don getting this blood?" Ibris demanded, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl.

Don leaned forward, a defiant spark in his eyes. "Donors across Atlantis," he replied firmly.

Ibris narrowed his gaze, skeptically. "Donors? Really?"

Don held his ground, the tension crackling as both men sized each other up. "Look, this could be good for us both."

Just then, Ibris' tablet buzzed with a series of incoming messages, the sharp sound cutting through the pulsing atmosphere of the club. He swiped the screen, and his heart sank as he opened the first notification—it was from Mazi.

"Jahui is dead. We couldn't save her."

Fury igniting in Ibris' chest. He felt the weight of loss settle like a leaden shroud over his thoughts. As Ibris glanced up, the flickering screens lining the walls behind Vega and Don caught his attention. All the streams were displaying chaotic footage of Esa flipping a military vehicle off the highway in the Northern Forest near the Ajeel River, followed by a police wanted image. Ibris clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. This was not how things were supposed to go. Ibris was furious.

Vega noticed his shift in demeanor and hesitantly asked, "So, what do you think, Ibris?"

Ibris shook his head, angrily. "No, thank you," he replied, pushing back from the table. He slipped on his DarkShades again, the lenses filtering out the vibrant chaos around him. With a subtle gesture, he signaled to his men scattered throughout the club, a silent command that had them on alert. "I've got to go, Vega."

Vega reached out, with a hint of desperation. "Ibris, wait—"

But he brushed past Don, determined. "Very nice to meet you, Don." He stepped away, leaving Vega and Don behind as he made his way toward the exit. "What a waste of time," he said under his breath.

As he walked out, Ibris' men adjusted their stance, their weapons subtly targeting Don's crew, a warning that didn't go unnoticed. The tension in the air shifted, but Ibris didn't look back.

Ibris walked past Don's armed men at the club's door, who were now sharply aware of the laser targets painted on them by Ibris' crew. Once he was cleared the entrance, he stepped onto the bustling street, the cacophony of the club fading into the background.

The crowd immediately took notice of Ibris, whispers rippling through the throngs of revelers in their drunken stupor. Ibris was accustomed to the unwanted attention, he pushed through the crowd and kept walking, his determination unwavering. People stumbled by, intoxicated on the latest drugs and ambrosia, completely absorbed in their own worlds. Ibris felt their eyes on his face and horns, the mix of awe and fear palpable in the air.

Once he was clear of the crowd, Ibris' fingers flew across the screen of his tablet as he called Esa, but it went unanswered. Frustrated, he cursed under his breath before dialing Mazi. As soon as the connection was made, his fury erupted.

"What happened, Mazi? Why is Esa plastered all over the news streams? I told you to keep this quiet! His face is everywhere!"

The tremor in Mazi's voice was palpable, a mixture of fear and nervousness. "I... I don't know, Ibris. After Jahui died, he just—he just left. He's gone. We can't get in touch with him."

Ibris inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. "What happened to Jahui? I thought we had it under control."

"She rejected Kaya and Yoshua's blood transfusions," Mazi replied, with dread. "Dr. Dubay is running analyses to find out why. She mentioned that Kaya is a partbreed and that Yoshua's blood is different from other Atlantean halfbreed blood—"

Ibris' jaw clenched as he processed Mazi's words. "Get everyone in a transport to the Underworld. Right now."

Mazi's eyes widened, the urgency of the situation sinking in. "But—"

"But nothing," Ibris interrupted.

Mazi nodded quickly. "I'll arrange it, but what about Esa?"

Ibris growled so Mazi could hear him. "We'll deal with Esa later. Get moving." Ibris felt a wave of anger wash over him again, mixed with helplessness. Without another word, he abruptly ended the call, his frustration palpable as he stared at the darkened screen.

This time, Ibris tried reaching Dr. Dubay, but the call went unanswered. Frustrated, he decided to go to the clinic himself. Just as he was about to call his transport, a message pinged on his tablet.

"Ibris," it read, "we have an emergency at the Clinic. I'm working on getting answers about Jahui, but I need some time. Please don't come here. The staff and androids are already under serious stress."

Ibris felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he read the message, the weight of Dr. Dubay's words pressing down on him. He knew he had to respect her request, even as anxiety clawed at his mind.

As he rounded the corner at the end of the block, the vibrant chaos of the street faded into a more intimate scene. There, amidst the throng of revelers, he spotted her—the cat halfbreed he had admired earlier. Engaged in lively conversation with a group of women, her dark hair shimmered under the neon advertisement lights, and her pointed ears twitched playfully with amusement.

This distraction was a welcome reprieve from his chaotic evening.

Ibris's heart quickened as he approached her, the neon lights flooding back into his vision as he removed his DarkShades. He barely registered the holographic advertisements flickering to life around him, entranced by the cat halfbreed's beauty. Her striking features and feline grace drew him in like a moth to a flame. "Hey," he said, a subtle smile forming on his lips.

"Hey yourself," she said, turning to him. He could smell the ambrosia on her breathe. Her amber eyes sparkling with curiosity as she admired his large horns and broad shoulders. "I'm Lira. What's your name?" She extended her hand.

He shook her hand. "Ibris," he replied, a confident smile breaking through his earlier frustration. "I like the way you move."

"Thanks," Lira replied, a playful grin forming on her lips. "I love to dance, especially when the music hits just right. But you seemed more interested in the shadows than the stage."

He chuckled, glancing back at the bustling crowd. "The lights are nice, but you were the real highlight."

Lira raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Smooth talker, huh? What's your angle?"

Ibris shrugged, leaning in slightly. "Just a guy who appreciates beauty when he sees it." In that moment, he pushed aside his usual caution. "How about we get out of here? I know place not too far."

Her smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes.