The barman, clever as he was, tactfully withdrew his guard. The tide had turned, my arrival was an unaccounted for factor. All the small fry at the meeting slowly started slipping away so as to not be suspected for associating with rebels. From my deduction, this meeting was organised with the purpose of intimidating right wing advocates. Galliard Trunsman, as their representative had to take the brunt of the fall as the epicentre of scrutiny from the left wing.

  The high rankers need not bother themselves with such petty meetings therefore the ones here were small ruffians. As long as they corner him, squashing all libertarians would have been child's play, unexpectedly for them a primordial figure had descended upon them out of the blue and stolen their thunder.

  'I'm afraid reviving the society is no longer possible, even you can't contest them alone and hope to win' his hands dropped to his sides and all of a sudden his person seemed to shrink, shoulders slopping ruefully. 'They have found their way into the city, I donot know on what business but our futile strength cannot hope to stop what they mean to do.'

  'How many right wing advocates still persist?' I asked languidly, by now the room had practically emptied save both of us and the barmen.

  'Around fifty'

  'Good enough, gather them up and take a head count, I'll meet them tomorrow evening' Saying so, I had already turned to leave for I was running short on time, that brawl outside had delayed me quite a bit.

  'We donot have the power to resist. It is true I refuse to give up but that's because I'm old and the world would suffer no loss at my death and i wish to latch on to the last string of ideals that govern my conscience' he said, his tone grave 'but you... you donot have to do this, stick to the choice you made back then. Turn away, while you still can.'

  'I DO have the power though' I said facing him 'You know I would never participate in this game of cat and mouse without sufficient backing. I donot play to lose'. I watched as the wisps of ephemeral terror seeped into his face as my subconscious grin widened. The very next second he schooled his expression as if nothing had happened.

  'I'll have Alvin contact you about the details. We have changed from our neutral stance. The information society this time, will be a right wing organisation'

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  'War has been declared, we must prepare accordingly'

  I added, turning once again.

  The last rays of the sun caught over skyscraping rooftops as I emerged from that filthy alley. Scarlet hues of dusk bloodied the vast horizon, a predecessor to the dark night.

  .............

  By the time I reached casa Viscontini, a waning crescent hung, illuminating the firmament as the avian predator of the night eyed its prey, its hoots reverberating through still air.

  The Iron gates weren't shut, they glinted against the moonlight, imposing upon the prim lawn with their shadows. I squeezed in through the narrow gap while unconsciously making sure I made no noise, I'm not sure why I want to such lengths to keep my presence a secret but it just felt right at that time and place.

  The door to the house though, was locked. A dilapidated electric bell system was fitted at a lonesome corner at the edge of the doorframe, one I had never felt the need to take notice of before. I pressed the switch and the metallic wire started buzzing incessantly, the harsh sound felt like an aberration to the ears and after enduring what felt like an eternity of that auditory assault, the sound stopped. Almost immediately the doors gave way and at the doorway stood an elderly gentleman in a tuxedo. He, from my recognition, was likely Mr Harner.

  'If it isn't Ms Lane, do come in' he spoke in a voice that was formal yet not cold.

  'I apologise for this unannounced visit, but there is a pressing matter that I must discuss with Mr Viscontini' I ventured.

  'But ofcourse, the young master will be with you in a moment' he assured, stepping aside to gesture me in.

  We walked through the ramshackle lower quarter and the hellishly winding staircase and finally through the windowed hall way. Barely any form of light shone in the mansion, the entirety of the place seemed to be exploiting the camouflage offered by the night.

  'Next time' spoke Mr Harner, I started upon hearing his voice as i had pretty much taken the prevailing silence for granted. 'If it isn't a bother for you, do try to avoid that bell for it riles up the entire house'. He spoke as if speaking to a child–as if the listener would burst out crying if they heard so much as a trace of reproach in the words.

  I nodded my head in acknowledgement, not quite sure how to articulate my answer. He never mentioned any other civically amicable method of contacting the interior occupants of the house from the outside. I had a nagging feeling all these dissimulating arrangements were deliberately enforced in order to keep out all uninvited guests.

  As we approached the dining I could hear several voices coming from within. Mr Harner suddenly stopped and after a contemplative halt he decisively asked me to wait in a side hall.

  Twenty minutes elapsed before footsteps sounded outside, they drew close before passing by and receding into the distance.

  Shortly after Mr Harner beckoned me outside. 'The young master is ready to meet Ms Lane, if you would please follow me'. Surprisingly though, he led me into a study instead of the dining.

  Vittore was presently stacking papers on the study table with his back to the entrance. The study was quiet big and in contrast with the outside it had bright lighting and It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the visual onslaught.

  'So it was you who rang that god foresaken door bell' he said leaning against the desk. By the time I relaxed my squinted eyes he had turned in my direction and look like he was in a particularly good mood. 'Damn it I almost got a concussion from that sound'. He pressed his palm to his ear to reinforce his point.

  'Almost? That's too bad' I said, with palpable disappointment.

  'Yes unfortunately, almost' he grimaced 'but i believe your primary purpose coming here was not to lanch an assault upon my ears?'

  'And you're right–I'm here ofcourse, to surrender'