The room, carpeted in deep crimson, was spacious but dimly lit. The dark oak floorboards absorbed much of the already-weak illumination. The only light came from a fireplace on the room's right-hand side. Two high-backed armchairs were arranged at an angle beside it, and in one sat a tall man whose presence was so commanding that General Hale immediately perceived him as the center of the room—even though he was impeccably dressed, she could tell that his tailored suit concealed a physique of explosive strength.
A gentle breeze of warmth and the faint crackling of burning logs drifted over. The man didn't acknowledge Gideon Malick or General Hale as they entered. Instead, he continued speaking to the woman seated in the opposite chair. His expression was relaxed and cheerful. Long, wavy black hair framed his face, and eyes like obsidian glinted in the firelight. His cheerful voice echoed subtly in the empty room. The woman in the other chair chuckled from time to time in response. Hale thought her voice sounded familiar, but the high back of the chair blocked her view; all she could see was one pale, feminine arm.
It was a young woman's arm.
Gideon Malick held Hale back with a gesture, signaling for her to wait.
Hale withdrew her arm and straightened her posture, standing with composed poise. She began to speculate on the man's identity. From the banners and crests she'd seen earlier in the great hall, she deduced that the golden eagle insignia must represent either this man himself or the force behind him. It couldn't possibly be S.H.I.E.L.D.—that was absurd. The symbol looked more like something out of antiquity, not a modern corporate or governmental logo.
She couldn't imagine what kind of power could simultaneously possess both powered armor and super soldier technology—two capabilities the U.S. government had coveted for years. But if this man truly commanded such terrifying strength, then making a U.S. general stand and wait wasn't at all surprising. At least, he was more personable than the power brokers of the Goldman Sachs, Lehman, Lazard, Warburg, or Stern families. Hale was a general of the United States, but she couldn't just walk into a room and meet those men at will. They were the real money behind the U.S. government.
From the far side of the room—beyond the firelight—came the sound of a door opening. To Hale's astonishment, it was Gideon Malick's daughter who stepped out, carrying a steaming tray with several ornate ceramic cups. Hale had assumed the man was speaking with Stephanie. Stephanie smiled as she handed one of the cups to the man. The woman in the other chair received one as well. Gideon Malick, as if receiving a signal, gave Hale a nod, inviting her to approach.
The man didn't stand. He merely gave a courteous nod.
"Mom?" The woman in the other chair stood up in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Ruby?" General Hale was equally shocked, but recovered quickly. In a flash, she seized her daughter's wrist and yanked her over. Ruby yelped, and her cup of hot mulled wine crashed to the carpet, spilling lemon slices, cloves, and cinnamon sticks along with the scalding liquid, staining the beautiful rug. She clutched her reddened hand, waving it in pain and confusion.
"What is the meaning of this?" Hale's glare moved from Gideon Malick to the seated man. If one of her subordinates had received that look, they'd probably have collapsed. But the man merely smiled and took a slow sip of his drink.
"Mom, he's my friend!" Ruby protested, genuinely upset. She truly saw Solomon as a friend. He had given her experiences she never thought possible. After all, Ruby was the product of artificial insemination under General Hale's orders. After Dr. Whitehall's eugenics program ended, Ruby had been raised within one of Hydra's secret schools. If Whitehall hadn't died, Ruby, now entering adolescence, would've become the program's new maternal vessel—inseminated to produce the next generation of enhanced humans.
But Alexander Pierce's fall had destroyed that plan. Whitehall's assets were absorbed by the Malick family, and his researchers were folded into the Immortal City. The program was scrapped.
Ruby had been taught everything she needed to know, trained to perfection—but she had never seen the outside world. Her bedroom door was a blast-resistant vault door with at least five centimeters of reinforced alloy and an electronic lock. Solomon had cut it open with magic and extended an invitation—and a gift.
A collapsible hunting knife and a double-barreled pistol.
Ruby had accepted them without hesitation.
Solomon took her on a tour, starting with the corpses of the Hydra guards he'd killed. After confirming she had no aversion to blood and death, he took her to explore New York City, used teleportation to show her the world, and finally brought her to this castle chamber. Ruby was completely enthralled. Her favorite new activity was skydiving without a parachute—she did it three times, like a child begging to ride a roller coaster again and again. The rush of adrenaline was overwhelming. She wanted more adventures—so long as Solomon was there.
"Silence!" General Hale was furious, her face flushed red. "I came here expecting a negotiation, not underhanded manipulation!"
"Why not hear what I have to say?" Solomon waved his hand, and the wine stain vanished from the carpet. He extended a hand, inviting her to sit in the chair Ruby had occupied. Hale hesitated but accepted, ordering Ruby to stay close. Ruby, unhappy but obedient, rubbed her wrist and stood by. Stephanie took Hale's coat and hung it neatly on the coat rack. Solomon turned to Gideon Malick. "We'll need some time. I can't stay in Europe for long."
"As you wish, my lord." Gideon Malick nodded and exited with his daughter. He walked with the spring of a young man, his previous frailty now clearly a ruse. After internal organ reconstruction, joint replacements, and stem cell regeneration, he had at least fifty years of life left. Before she exited, Stephanie gave Solomon a knowing glance. After he returned a faint nod, she left the room with a smile.
"I'm sure you've met Constantine by now. He's my Royal Guard," Solomon said with a charming and polite smile. "Apologies for not introducing him properly. I'll be sure to do so next time. But now, I think we can talk properly, General Hale. Mulled wine?"
"I'm a little concerned."
"There's nothing to worry about, Father," Stephanie said calmly as she sipped her wine. Solomon had once taught her how to make it himself—an ancient Greek recipe, he claimed. "Our lord has never failed to win over anyone. Take the Malick family, for example. Or me." She spoke with pride, as though the family's total submission were a trophy mounted on the wall, proof of their master's glory. Gideon Malick had no objection to becoming a vassal—Stephanie had told him that Solomon commanded a spacefaring fleet. Hitching a ride on the Immortal City was, in itself, a reward.
"Constantine," she said to the man once known as Subject Zero—now grown, trained, and accelerated by the Time Stone and temporal expansion, now known as Constantine. "I'll leave the rest to you."
"I will, Lady Malick. I am the extension of the Sovereign's will."
(End of Chapter)
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