CHAPTER 07: POW-WOW

The heavy oak doors of the courtroom swung open with a soft thud, a sound oddly weird after the tension that had crackled within for the past week. Cien emerged first, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips despite the bandage wrapped around his right forearm, a souvenir from a particularly aggressive man.

Sunlight, momentarily blinding after the dim interior, illuminated the satisfied grins on the faces of his team trailing behind him.

"Another victory, Cien," she winked. "Though I must admit, that closing argument of Mr. Carlos was surprisingly... persistent."

Cien snorted, a dismissive sound. "Persistent, maybe. Effective? Clearly not. You destroyed him. Absolutely destroyed him."

"Another one bites the dust," Fannigan rumbled, clapping Cien on his uninjured shoulder.

Cien chuckled, a short, sharp sound. "They never learn, do they?"

But the celebration was abruptly halted. Just as they reached the wide corridor leading outside, bustling with the usual courthouse traffic, a silhouette emerged from the opposite door of the same courtroom, turning sharply into their path. It was Carlos.

The air thickened almost instantly. The brothers hadn't spoken in years, a fire of resentment and unspoken accusations separating them. The years hadn't blurred their resemblance; the same sharp jawline, the same intense gaze, though Carlos's hair was neatly styled and his suit impeccable, a stark contrast to Cien's more rumpled, perpetually on-the-go look.

They almost collided, a brush of shoulders that felt more like a physical blow. A beat of charged silence hung in the air before Cien broke it, his voice laced with an almost theatrical surprise.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. The esteemed Counsellor Herrera. Fancy meeting you here, little brother." The sarcasm dripped from his words, the last two words however a whisper.

Carlos's face tightened, his own failure or whatever it might have been, momentarily forgotten. He ignored Cien. "Ms. Albright. Congratulations on... your win." His voice was clipped, devoid of any genuine warmth.

"Oh, you are happy?" Cien raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "How... supportive of you. Though I must say, your performance today was... admirable. Almost believable." He let the insult hang in the air, the implication clear โ€“ Carlos was a good actor, but a poor lawyer. Especially when facing him.

"At least I stick to the facts, Cien," Carlos retorted, his composure beginning to fray. "Unlike some people who rely on theatrics and... questionable evidence."

Cien's smirk widened. "Questionable evidence that secured a conviction, wouldn't you say? Seems the jury wasn't as discerning as you." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Maybe you should take notes next time. You know, learn a thing or two about actually winning, instead of just dressing the part."

"You think this is a game, Cien?" Carlos's voice rose, attracting the attention of a few passersby. "This isn't some little squabble you can bully your way through. You don't know what is at stake!"

"Oh, I know exactly what's at stake, Carlos," Cien said, his gaze hardening. "That's why I win. Always." He gestured to his bandaged arm. "A little collateral damage, perhaps. But the right outcome, nonetheless."

The tension between them was a tangible thing, vibrating in the air. Years Sally and Fannigan shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to intervene. Sally, ever the peacemaker, took a step forward, about to say something, when someone else appeared at the end of the corridor.

Madhar.

His presence was like throwing gasoline onto a smouldering fire. Cien's fling now Carlos's fiancรฉ. The tangled web of their past relationships was a constant, unspoken presence between the brothers. And after Cien had asked Madhar to leave, to choose, he had expected him to come back. But him coming inside, reaching Carlor straight said everything.

Madhar's eyes, wide with concern, darted between the two men.
"Carlos, what's going on?" He asked, his voice soft but firm. Madhar reached out and placed a hand on his arm, a simple gesture that sent a fresh wave of anger washing over Cien.

He stared at them, his jaw clenched. The sight of them together, Carlos's hand covering his, ignited a bitter fury he thought he had buried.

"Well, isn't this a cozy little tableau," Cien said, his voice dripping with sarcasm so thick it could be cut with a knife. "The happy couple. So glad to see you supporting your husband, Madhar. He needs all the help he can get, especially when facing real lawyers."

Madhar's face fell. "Cien, please..."

"No, no, don't let me interrupt," Cien continued, his gaze flicking between them, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "You two look great together. A perfect match. Truly." The last word was spat out like poison.

He turned abruptly, pushing past them. "Come on, let's get out of this den of losers," he snapped at his team, not bothering to see the hurt in Madhar's eyes or the flash of anger in Carlos's.

Sally hurried after him, her brow furrowed with concern. "Cien, wait. You can't drive. Your arm..."

He ignored her, striding towards the courthouse exit with long, angry steps. He could feel her hand on his good arm, trying to slow him down.

"Cien, be reasonable," she pleaded, her voice laced with genuine worry. "It's not safe."

He shrugged her off impatiently. "I'll manage," he growled, his focus already shifting to the next move, the next target. He reached his car, a sleek, black SUV parked in a reserved spot. Ignoring the throbbing in his injured arm, he wrenched open the driver's side door and slid inside.

The familiar scent of leather and pine air freshener did little to soothe his fury. He gripped the steering wheel with his left hand, the muscles in his forearm straining. Sally hovered by the open door, her expression a mixture of exasperation and fear.

"Cien, please. Let me drive you."

He met her gaze, his eyes hard and unyielding. "I'm fine, Sally. Just... fine." He reached for the GPS screen on the dashboard, his fingers clumsy as he navigated the menus with his left hand. He typed in the coordinates he had memorized earlier, a familiar address.

"Tectonic Corps," Sally read aloud, her voice laced with apprehension. "The Geology office in Georgia? Cien, what are you doing?"

He didn't answer, his attention fixed on the screen as the route appeared. He shifted the car into gear, the engine rumbling to life.

"I have something to take care of," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Sally's worried face and, in the distance, the still-rigid figures of Carlos and Madhar watching him. He didn't care.

With a screech of tires, he pulled out of the parking spot, the adrenaline masking the pain in his arm. The GPS voice guided him, its calm, measured tones a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within him. Tectonic Corps. The geology office. The pieces were starting to fit, the anger fuelling a dangerous resolve. He had won in court, but the real game, the one that truly mattered, was just beginning. And this time, he wouldn't be playing by the rules.

...

The glass doors of Tectonic Corps and Geology of Georgia whispered shut behind Cien, the hushed click echoing in the otherwise bustling lobby. He moved with a quiet confidence that bordered on predatory, his eyes, the colour of storm clouds, scanning the polished floors and the logo etched in silver on the reception desk. He ignored the curious glances, his focus locked on the directory board. "Paniz, Dr. Philip Paniz," he murmured, locating the name on the fifth floor.

The elevator ride was silent, the metallic hum a counterpoint to the thrumming anxiety that had settled in his gut. He wasn't supposed to be here. This was bold, even for him. But he had to be here.

The fifth floor opened onto a spacious reception area, significantly more opulent than the lobby below. A secretary with perfectly coiffed hair and an equally perfect smile looked up, her expression shifting to polite curiosity as Cien approached.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"I need to see Dr. Paniz," Cien stated, his voice low and firm, brooking no argument.

The secretary's smile faltered slightly. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

Before she could formulate a polite refusal, Cien saw the door at the end of the hallway, a polished mahogany emblazoned with a brass plaque: "Dr. Philip Paniz - Director." He started walking.

"Sir, you can't justโ€”" Her voice trailed off as Cien reached the door and, without knocking, pushed it open.

The room fell silent. Around a large, gleaming conference table sat five people, their expressions ranging from surprised to mildly annoyed. At the head of the table, his face a mask of incredulity, sat Dr. Philip Paniz. He was a man who exuded control, his tailored suit immaculate, his silver hair neatly combed. But the shock that rippled across his features was undeniable.

"Senor Morris?" Paniz's voice was a low rumble, laced with disbelief. "What in God's name are you doing here?"

Cien stood just inside the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the faces in the room, taking in the expensive watches, the tense postures, the documents spread across the table. He didn't answer immediately. He simply stood there, a silent, imposing figure amidst the established order of the room. It was a deliberate act, a disruption, and he needed it to land.

"Stop the meeting, Paniz," Cien finally said, his voice cutting through the stunned silence like a shard of ice.

Paniz's shock morphed into anger. "Stop the meeting? Are you out of your mind? This is a crucial discussion with..." He gestured vaguely at the others.

Cien's gaze returned to Paniz, his eyes unwavering. Again, he remained silent, his scrutiny of the room intensifying. He noted the man with the slicked-back hair fidgeting with a pen, the woman in the power suit with a barely concealed look of disdain, the two younger men who seemed more confused than anything else.

"Why should I stop this meeting, Cien?" Paniz's voice was tight with restrained fury. He was a man used to being obeyed, not interrupted, certainly not by a man he'd only met twice under very different circumstances.

Cien held his gaze for a long, agonizing moment. Then, his voice dropped to a near whisper, though it carried the weight of a threat. "If you want me to find the lost Thullium metal, Paniz, you better stop this meeting."

___________

I can't wait to push him into EBLIS!

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