A Hidden Island Lair - 2023

Gale's quarters aboard her crew's hidden island lair were an expansive room, dimly lit, paneled with rich, lacquered mahogany. It was a comforting scene for her, much like the familiar embrace of a childhood friend. Her large piercing green eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on King.

He stood there, illuminated by the dancing flames of an ornate fireplace, his muscular silhouette reminiscent of a statuesque Greek god. In that moment, Gale's thoughts were a tempest of unease and anticipation.

"Couldn't wait for the meeting proper, big guy?" she asked to lighten the mood. Her cautious, yet nonchalant demeanor was betrayed by the slight trembling of her voice. She swallowed the hard knot in her throat, angling to hide her anxiety.

King's figure moved, a yellow glow emanating from behind her, and materialized at her side. She studied the depth of his expression, the gold quasar irises that bore into her very soul; he was imposing, yet gentle in his approach.

"Red, I know you want The Chicken more than anyone, but just in case it wasn't clear what I wanted to do to that piece of poultry, I had an update on Stella." King 's voice was a gravelly rumble in her ear, his lion-like features lending an underlying sinister undertone to his words.

"And? How is Crow... How is she?" Gale asked softly, feeling a warm pang within her chest as she allowed herself a sliver of vulnerability that contrasted her character. She tucked a fiery-red lock of hair behind her curvy ear and leaned against the wall of her quarters.

"She's awake, and Tin Can is getting that robotics we salvaged to work. She'll have arms and legs again, but they'll be metal... for the rest of her life." He paused as the weight of those truthful, bleak words lingered in the air. Gale's throat caught with emotion, painfully aware of the urgency and tenuous nature of time she was dealing with.

"The Chicken is responsible for Stella's condition, Red." King's narrowed yellow eyes bore into hers. His urgent tone and cruel visage were a convincing argument for vengeance.

"I know." Gale's voice escaped her throat, barely more than a whisper. She tasted the salt of bitter regret on her lips.

"I want the Chicken dead, Red. Not rolled and left for the authorities; dead." King's growl shuddered through the room. His aura briefly shifted from playful to dark and severe.

Gale cautiously looked away from King's fierce gaze, knowing what he demanded of her. They had encountered The Chicken earlier, even worked for her, then she turned on them, costing Crow, costing Stella, her arms, her legs, and almost her life. But Gale knew, to kill The Chicken you need to first find her. To do that, she had to get to Ivanov. Ivanov was a dangerous game - he had connections; knots so tangled in the underworld that only the most dedicated villains had a hope of extracting any intel.

As she chewed over these thoughts, King circled back around; his flowing dark mane reinvigorated by the crackling open flames. His eyes narrowed; jewels cloaked in darkness. He glanced at her through the corner of his golden irises, "Red, we've got work to do. Time for that meeting." He turned on his heels and disappeared through a hidden door.

---

The control room of the island lair was a sight to behold. It mirrored the bridge of a state-of-the-art naval warship. The surveillance screens displayed real-time footage of various strategic locations. The main console, which would have been manned long ago was automated, thanks to the genius intellect of Vincent Galvani. His powerful wrist computer allowed him to run the entire operation, displaying rows of maps, charts, and live data streams in seamless clarity.

Gale reached the main console and cast a glance at Vincent, his blonde short, styled hair pushed back from his brow. He engaged in intense focus, tapping an array of holographic controls with precision. With age, Vincent's muscular frame had remained lean and athletic, well-matched for his intelligent mind.

With a nod and a pleasant smile to Vincent, Gale started, "Nikolai Ivanov, self-proclaimed spy. He is actually one of the most sought-after Information Brokers in the global underworld. He is young, handsome, charming, and the very antithesis of a spy. Boisterous, arrogant, even wearing his most sensitive intel in a pen-drive on a bolo-tie." A malicious grin appeared on Gale's ruby-red lips as she revealed Ivanov's quirk.

"Cute," King chortled mockingly under his breath, rolling his gold-specked eyes as if unimpressed.

Gale raised a fiery eyebrow at King's reaction but returned her attention obediently to the large monitor dotted with intel gathered about Ivanov. Vincent's slender fingers danced through the glowing heaps of data, accessing encrypted files and decoding their vital information. The fiery-redhead and the lion-like figure observed Vincent's work intently.

"Despite the brazen wearing of his most sensitive intel. It has never been found on him when picked up by Interpol or STOIC." Gale smirked, aided by the confidence she gained from watching Vincent weave his techno magic. On the other side of the control room, an enormous wall screen began to populate with various highly classified documents and correspondence, the kind that should have remained unseen.

Without looking up, Vincent replied to Gale, "I take it you know why that is?" he asked tauntingly with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course!" She replied in singsong teasing, pausing for dramatic effect. "It's because Ivanov uses intel mules: couriers to transport and secure sensitive information. Though elements of his system are encrypted, you see, his penchant for physical trinkets and stylistic idiosyncrasies becomes his Achilles' heel." Gale's fiery-red curls bobbed as she spoke, her electric-green eyes gleamed with a wicked thrill at each small reveal.

Vincent nodded, admiring her keen deductive prowess. "And how do we make use of said mules?" he inquired curiously, his slender fingers flying across his wrist computer's interface.

"The mules are no doubt instructed to go to ground when either Ivanov or the intel is threatened. That's why he uses international travelers, whether servicemen or cruise takers: To get them out of the country quickly; without raising suspicion." Gale 's finger hovered above the surveillance footage, highlighting potential intel mules. The screen displayed Barnett and Almaerifuh, two travelers from separate countries whose paths would cross in Ivanov's hands.

"Barnett is ex-military and was dishonorably discharged from the United States Navy. Almaerifuh, however, is a double agent, currently working in intelligence for the Swedish government but has ties to Russian Intelligence, hence his connection to Ivanov," Gale revealed in a measured tone.

King looked on. "You've got a plan, Red?"

Gale's emerald eyes locked on King with a determined and seductive stare. "I'm so glad you asked." She continued, "Barnett's wife Iris lives in New York, and he still sends messages to her, despite being 'missing.' I'll befriend her and intercept the next message, perhaps entice him to make contact. Meanwhile, you and King will tail Almaerifuh under the guise as agents of STOIC, scaring him into relocating."

"I can definitely handle the scaring part." King interjected, flashing his deadly incisors in his sly smile.

Gale continued, "Once I am in position with Barnett's wife, and you two corner Almaerifuh, we threaten Ivanov. The intel comes to us." Gale's lyrical voice carried an undertone of decisiveness as much as it was laced with sensuality. "We'll use the threat of Ivanov's demise to persuade these mules to reveal their intel. I'll reach out as a curious journalist interested in her story, whereas you two will come up with something far more creative, I'd wager." Gale cast a knowing glance towards the imposing lion-man, the corners of her shimmering green eyes crinkling to shape a playful half-smile.

"I love it when a plan comes together." King said, chewing on an old cigar.

Vincent could only muster with a sigh, "Cripes!"