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Description
"Get him on screen."
Antonio confirmed the emotionless command of his boss with a brief nod.  The green eyes of the Spaniard where practically glued to the monitor in front of him. He was slouching in his swivel chair showing off his usual carelessness as he made jokes and hummed simple tunes from his homeland but it didn't take much to notice the huge amount of tension and anxiety that was constantly growing underneath this relaxed surface. For several seconds the room was filled with nothing but the noise of Antonio's rapid typing and even the man sitting in the back with his hands folded in his lap began to get thrilled.
"I get a signal," The man in front of the computer exclaimed; his voice nothing but a sigh of relief. "He's at the entrance now."
The wide screen that covered the opposite wall flickered to life and then showed the profile of a young Italian that looked rather unhappy. A gun was pointed at his temple and forced him to walk faster. Another person entered the screen; the one aiming at the man. After a few cracking sounds their conversation became intelligible, even though the voices were pretty distorted.
"Your name again." The man holding the weapon muttered and nudged the Italian's head with the iron barrel.
"Lovino Vargas." The man growled for an answer.
"Vargas? Isn't that a Spanish surname?"
"…So what?"
"You said you were from Italy."
Antonio caught his breath and whirled around to stare at his boss in shock. The other man present in the room shook his hand in a reassuring manner and pointed at the screen again. 'Lovino' recovered faster than his partner and now hissed: "I'm from South Italy. A whole bunch of Spaniards moved there. Got a problem with that?"
The Egyptian man escorting him remained silent but shrugged as though he wanted to say that he didn't really care anyway. Then he made a fast gesture with his gun and the duo continued to hurry down the hallways.
The Spaniard leaned back against the backrest of his chair with a low groan. "Well done, Romano." He praised the younger man even though there was no way he could he hear him now. The two spectators watched the swing doors close when the other men on screen entered the council's room. Again Antonio's hands raced across his many keyboards until they froze at once and his whole body turned limp. "I lost 'em…" he informed his superior with a slight frown. At that moment the monitor turned pitch-black.
"It's all up to him now." The Grecian man sitting in the back agreed.

"Senor Karpusi, I was wondering… What exactly is Romano supposed to do in there?"
Heracles looked up from the coffee machine slowly. He looked as if he wasn't able to stay on his feet for another second without a good amount of caffeine in his bloodstream.
"He is doing what we are always doing, Antonio." He mumbled as he poured himself some of the bitter drink. He gulped it down in few drafts and grimaced at the taste. A visible shudder ran down his spine. The Spaniard watching his back let out a shaky laugh and said: "So he is stealing technology and leeching off money of other countries all by himself?"
It was clearly meant as a joke but the Greek was in no mood for joking and replied: "Exactly." With this he intended to make his exit but before he could turn to leave Antonio had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to a halt.
"You can't be serious. Remember where you sent him. He's not cut out for such things, please reconsider." He begged. Heracles raised an eyebrow sardonically. "I rather think you are not cut out for watching him doing such things. You can't be his guard dog forever." He answered and shrugged off the man's hand. Then he continued with a sharper tone: "It's too late now, anyway. He'll be fine. Now, would you do me a favor? Don't bring your feelings to work tomorrow, will you? After a while it is getting on my nerves."
The Spanish man obviously didn't take that lightly. Heracles wasn't surprised. Antonio was known for being an extraordinarily passionate contemporary.  The Greek watched his assistant storm off and growl: "We can't all be emotionally dead, can we?"
He followed him with his eyes until he had shut the door behind him and then shrugged a little. He understood how much the young Italian meant to the Spaniard and he wasn't angry at him for running off like that. Antonio had raised Romano and they had grown very fond of each other during that time, even though Romano wasn't very willing to show that in public. Heracles liked the two of them; they were capable men and had some good connections to the international underworld. Plus, their places had very good food which was why he visited them often.
The last sentence of Antonio bothered him nonetheless.
"Emotionally dead, hm?" he muttered to himself as he strolled down the halls towards his bureau. He didn't want to think of himself that way. He just refused to open up to people. Letting someone inside your heart made things just more complicated. He ought to know, he had made this mistake before. Right on cue the image of a shady figure, blurred and abstract, flashed before his inner eyes. It was the shade of a tall man that smiled down at him with the most wolfish sneer. It was an old memory, the memory of a child, actually, but he still had to fight with all his might against the upcoming turmoil that was sure to follow. He grabbed the knob of his door for support and yanked the door open. That wicked image kept haunting him until his fingers reached the neck of the bottle that had been awaiting his return on the desk. It was just a memory, it couldn't hurt him. Why was he so afraid then? Every time it appeared in some corner of his mind again it became first priority to get rid of it by all means. And things would get worse from now on. He had known that before and then it hadn't bothered him. Now he wasn't that sure anymore. As the memory faded away slowly Heracles relaxed a little.
The Ouzo burnt his throat and there was nothing better in this world right now. He often told himself that he only drank a few glasses to relax after a long day but he couldn't hide from the truth. His first reaction to any kind of trouble had become very predictable over the years. He threw himself on the couch he recently had announced his new sleeping place and moaned into the cushions. His back was killing him. He considered calling for some nice girls to get a good all-inclusive massage but then decided that he was too worn out for such things tonight. He lifted the bottle to his lips again and filled his parched mouth with the clear alcohol again.
'Emotionally dead'…
If only.
--

"Is he gone?"
"Left an hour ago."
"What was his name?"
"Lovino Vargas."
"A fake."
Gupta looked up from the paperwork on his desk to gaze at his boss. The tall man at the other end of the room folded his hands in a pyramid-like manner and rested his chin on his thumbs as he watched the shooting of the last three hours on his personal screen. It was impossible to tell what he really was looking at, though, because of the white mask that covered half of his face. The Egyptian tilted his head to the left and asked: "How come that you think so?"
"Well, would you name your child 'Lovino'?" Sadiq Adnan barked a laugh and scratched his chin in a superior manner.
"I don't think I'm qualified for answering such a question, sir." Gupta muttered and had to compose his features in order to not roll his eyes at that childish comment.
"Anyways, why was he here?" The Turk asked now as he leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk with a low grunt.
"He was trading money for information." Gupta reported deliberately. His eyes flitted over the papers in his grip.
"And what did we get?"
"Information."
"Such as?" Now Sadiq quitted his casual behavior and straighten up. His black jacket was creased from the long night and had gotten a little out of place. He had taken off his tie hours ago. Why he was dressed so formally Gupta couldn't tell but when he had returned this afternoon he had been very irritated. "He gave us the microchips with the data concerning 'Project Hades'." He told the Turk. "I checked them, there were a few Trojans in them but I could destroy them."
"Did ya gift them with a giant wooden horse?" Sadiq chuckled at his joke and reached across the desk for his pack of cigarettes. His assistant waited in silence until he had found a lighter and was inhaling the biting smoke in deep breaths.
"How much did that cost us?" he sighed.
"Three million US-Dollars."
That caught the Turk by surprise. He nearly jumped to his feet and focused on the pictures in front of him. Three million dollars wasn't such a big deal to him, but the same went for the others. The information they had received tonight was too delicate and essential to throw it around like it was nothing. So it was faked as well. This Vargas kid was a good actor; even tricked him. "Gupta, go and check the chips again. Destroy everything that might not belong in there. No matter how important it seems."
"Do you think we got fooled?" The Egyptian's eyes widened for a second.
"I'm pretty dang sure. We have to find out who that guy is working for." Sadiq cursed under his breath and ran his hand through his hair as he listed the names of his enemies. His thoughts kept spinning around only one individual, though. The face of a young smiling man appeared in his mind and olive green eyes of his burnt themselves halfway through to his heart. He had been such a good boy, a good pet. Sadiq grabbed the mental picture of the man and held it in place, forcing himself to look closer. The relaxed smile on these lips wasn't meant for him. He never had smiled at him, no matter how badly the Turk had wanted him to. Sunlight fell on the dark brown locks that framed his tan face and a gentle gust tousled the hair in a playful manner. For a long time now he hadn't thought of him like this… and he shouldn't start now.
"Sadiq, are you listening?" Gupta's voice tore him away from his little fantasy, even though he spoke as quietly as ever. The Turk needed a moment to arrange his thoughts. He asked: "What were you saying?"
"I said I was just checking the background of Project Hades, sir." The other man was suddenly sitting at his desk with a thin laptop on his knees. "The information Vargas gave us is real. I have succeeded in hacking the international data base." His fingers continued to dance across the keys while he spoke.
"Then it's dispensable. They probably have given up on the project. My friend, you are lacking. You could have hacked them weeks ago." Sadiq reprimanded his inferior, but he didn't pay too much attention. His thoughts still circled around names and faces.  Absentmindedly he waggled his cigarette between his fingers and watched the smoke winding its way through the air. The Egyptian just nodded and the pace his hands raced across the board with fastened.
A low sound of discomfort came from the usually so composed African when he opened a new file. Sadiq looked up with raised eyebrows. Before Gupta could say anything he had started his computer and linked the two modems with few clicks. He followed the man's path and no second later opened the same file.
"I think we found our culprit." Gupta muttered lifelessly.
The Turk narrowed his eyes behind his mask as he stared at the blurry photo of a man who just entered a bank followed by two men that were well equipped with all kinds of weapons, even Kalashnikovs. The man himself was unarmed but carried a briefcase with him which's contents most likely could ruin a whole company in no time. He wore a black coat that reached down to his ankles and a white shirt. This picture was a rather hard contrast to Sadiq's portrait of him. He wasn't smiling nor relaxed or happy. He was just cold; cold and determined.
"This makes it complicated…" Gupta muttered under his breath but it wasn't low enough for his boss to overhear it.
"Why would it be complicated now?" he hissed; his eyes practically glued to the photo on his desktop; or rather: Glued to the Greek shown in the photo.
"Heracles always makes things complicated. Especially for you." If anyone other than Gupta had uttered this last sentence they would have had a nice round hole in there forehead by now. The Egyptian was perfect at disguising it but he noticed way too much and Sadiq told him way too much. But the past was the past and had nothing to do with the present.
"Bullshit. We'll face him head on." Slowly reality caught up with him. For years now, Sadiq and Heracles had circled each other without landing a direct hit or opening the fire. The Greek had made the first step tonight. Finally he was within his reach, he could crush him now. A smile spread across the Turk's face. "It's about time."
"Does that mean we're at war now?" His assistant asked, already typing again.
"Yep. Here is our plan: Find his burrow, smoke him out, salvage him, finish him."
"Sounds easy enough." Gupta commented. Sadiq Adnan rose to his feet and took his mask off to enjoy the sight of his enemy to the fullest.
"Let the hunt begin."

Description
"Get him on screen."
Antonio confirmed the emotionless command of his boss with a brief nod.  The green eyes of the Spaniard where practically glued to the monitor in front of him. He was slouching in his swivel chair showing off his usual carelessness as he made jokes and hummed simple tunes from his homeland but it didn't take much to notice the huge amount of tension and anxiety that was constantly growing underneath this relaxed surface. For several seconds the room was filled with nothing but the noise of Antonio's rapid typing and even the man sitting in the back with his hands folded in his lap began to get thrilled.
"I get a signal," The man in front of the computer exclaimed; his voice nothing but a sigh of relief. "He's at the entrance now."
The wide screen that covered the opposite wall flickered to life and then showed the profile of a young Italian that looked rather unhappy. A gun was pointed at his temple and forced him to walk faster. Another person entered the screen; the one aiming at the man. After a few cracking sounds their conversation became intelligible, even though the voices were pretty distorted.
"Your name again." The man holding the weapon muttered and nudged the Italian's head with the iron barrel.
"Lovino Vargas." The man growled for an answer.
"Vargas? Isn't that a Spanish surname?"
"…So what?"
"You said you were from Italy."
Antonio caught his breath and whirled around to stare at his boss in shock. The other man present in the room shook his hand in a reassuring manner and pointed at the screen again. 'Lovino' recovered faster than his partner and now hissed: "I'm from South Italy. A whole bunch of Spaniards moved there. Got a problem with that?"
The Egyptian man escorting him remained silent but shrugged as though he wanted to say that he didn't really care anyway. Then he made a fast gesture with his gun and the duo continued to hurry down the hallways.
The Spaniard leaned back against the backrest of his chair with a low groan. "Well done, Romano." He praised the younger man even though there was no way he could he hear him now. The two spectators watched the swing doors close when the other men on screen entered the council's room. Again Antonio's hands raced across his many keyboards until they froze at once and his whole body turned limp. "I lost 'em…" he informed his superior with a slight frown. At that moment the monitor turned pitch-black.
"It's all up to him now." The Grecian man sitting in the back agreed.

"Senor Karpusi, I was wondering… What exactly is Romano supposed to do in there?"
Heracles looked up from the coffee machine slowly. He looked as if he wasn't able to stay on his feet for another second without a good amount of caffeine in his bloodstream.
"He is doing what we are always doing, Antonio." He mumbled as he poured himself some of the bitter drink. He gulped it down in few drafts and grimaced at the taste. A visible shudder ran down his spine. The Spaniard watching his back let out a shaky laugh and said: "So he is stealing technology and leeching off money of other countries all by himself?"
It was clearly meant as a joke but the Greek was in no mood for joking and replied: "Exactly." With this he intended to make his exit but before he could turn to leave Antonio had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to a halt.
"You can't be serious. Remember where you sent him. He's not cut out for such things, please reconsider." He begged. Heracles raised an eyebrow sardonically. "I rather think you are not cut out for watching him doing such things. You can't be his guard dog forever." He answered and shrugged off the man's hand. Then he continued with a sharper tone: "It's too late now, anyway. He'll be fine. Now, would you do me a favor? Don't bring your feelings to work tomorrow, will you? After a while it is getting on my nerves."
The Spanish man obviously didn't take that lightly. Heracles wasn't surprised. Antonio was known for being an extraordinarily passionate contemporary.  The Greek watched his assistant storm off and growl: "We can't all be emotionally dead, can we?"
He followed him with his eyes until he had shut the door behind him and then shrugged a little. He understood how much the young Italian meant to the Spaniard and he wasn't angry at him for running off like that. Antonio had raised Romano and they had grown very fond of each other during that time, even though Romano wasn't very willing to show that in public. Heracles liked the two of them; they were capable men and had some good connections to the international underworld. Plus, their places had very good food which was why he visited them often.
The last sentence of Antonio bothered him nonetheless.
"Emotionally dead, hm?" he muttered to himself as he strolled down the halls towards his bureau. He didn't want to think of himself that way. He just refused to open up to people. Letting someone inside your heart made things just more complicated. He ought to know, he had made this mistake before. Right on cue the image of a shady figure, blurred and abstract, flashed before his inner eyes. It was the shade of a tall man that smiled down at him with the most wolfish sneer. It was an old memory, the memory of a child, actually, but he still had to fight with all his might against the upcoming turmoil that was sure to follow. He grabbed the knob of his door for support and yanked the door open. That wicked image kept haunting him until his fingers reached the neck of the bottle that had been awaiting his return on the desk. It was just a memory, it couldn't hurt him. Why was he so afraid then? Every time it appeared in some corner of his mind again it became first priority to get rid of it by all means. And things would get worse from now on. He had known that before and then it hadn't bothered him. Now he wasn't that sure anymore. As the memory faded away slowly Heracles relaxed a little.
The Ouzo burnt his throat and there was nothing better in this world right now. He often told himself that he only drank a few glasses to relax after a long day but he couldn't hide from the truth. His first reaction to any kind of trouble had become very predictable over the years. He threw himself on the couch he recently had announced his new sleeping place and moaned into the cushions. His back was killing him. He considered calling for some nice girls to get a good all-inclusive massage but then decided that he was too worn out for such things tonight. He lifted the bottle to his lips again and filled his parched mouth with the clear alcohol again.
'Emotionally dead'…
If only.
--

"Is he gone?"
"Left an hour ago."
"What was his name?"
"Lovino Vargas."
"A fake."
Gupta looked up from the paperwork on his desk to gaze at his boss. The tall man at the other end of the room folded his hands in a pyramid-like manner and rested his chin on his thumbs as he watched the shooting of the last three hours on his personal screen. It was impossible to tell what he really was looking at, though, because of the white mask that covered half of his face. The Egyptian tilted his head to the left and asked: "How come that you think so?"
"Well, would you name your child 'Lovino'?" Sadiq Adnan barked a laugh and scratched his chin in a superior manner.
"I don't think I'm qualified for answering such a question, sir." Gupta muttered and had to compose his features in order to not roll his eyes at that childish comment.
"Anyways, why was he here?" The Turk asked now as he leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk with a low grunt.
"He was trading money for information." Gupta reported deliberately. His eyes flitted over the papers in his grip.
"And what did we get?"
"Information."
"Such as?" Now Sadiq quitted his casual behavior and straighten up. His black jacket was creased from the long night and had gotten a little out of place. He had taken off his tie hours ago. Why he was dressed so formally Gupta couldn't tell but when he had returned this afternoon he had been very irritated. "He gave us the microchips with the data concerning 'Project Hades'." He told the Turk. "I checked them, there were a few Trojans in them but I could destroy them."
"Did ya gift them with a giant wooden horse?" Sadiq chuckled at his joke and reached across the desk for his pack of cigarettes. His assistant waited in silence until he had found a lighter and was inhaling the biting smoke in deep breaths.
"How much did that cost us?" he sighed.
"Three million US-Dollars."
That caught the Turk by surprise. He nearly jumped to his feet and focused on the pictures in front of him. Three million dollars wasn't such a big deal to him, but the same went for the others. The information they had received tonight was too delicate and essential to throw it around like it was nothing. So it was faked as well. This Vargas kid was a good actor; even tricked him. "Gupta, go and check the chips again. Destroy everything that might not belong in there. No matter how important it seems."
"Do you think we got fooled?" The Egyptian's eyes widened for a second.
"I'm pretty dang sure. We have to find out who that guy is working for." Sadiq cursed under his breath and ran his hand through his hair as he listed the names of his enemies. His thoughts kept spinning around only one individual, though. The face of a young smiling man appeared in his mind and olive green eyes of his burnt themselves halfway through to his heart. He had been such a good boy, a good pet. Sadiq grabbed the mental picture of the man and held it in place, forcing himself to look closer. The relaxed smile on these lips wasn't meant for him. He never had smiled at him, no matter how badly the Turk had wanted him to. Sunlight fell on the dark brown locks that framed his tan face and a gentle gust tousled the hair in a playful manner. For a long time now he hadn't thought of him like this… and he shouldn't start now.
"Sadiq, are you listening?" Gupta's voice tore him away from his little fantasy, even though he spoke as quietly as ever. The Turk needed a moment to arrange his thoughts. He asked: "What were you saying?"
"I said I was just checking the background of Project Hades, sir." The other man was suddenly sitting at his desk with a thin laptop on his knees. "The information Vargas gave us is real. I have succeeded in hacking the international data base." His fingers continued to dance across the keys while he spoke.
"Then it's dispensable. They probably have given up on the project. My friend, you are lacking. You could have hacked them weeks ago." Sadiq reprimanded his inferior, but he didn't pay too much attention. His thoughts still circled around names and faces.  Absentmindedly he waggled his cigarette between his fingers and watched the smoke winding its way through the air. The Egyptian just nodded and the pace his hands raced across the board with fastened.
A low sound of discomfort came from the usually so composed African when he opened a new file. Sadiq looked up with raised eyebrows. Before Gupta could say anything he had started his computer and linked the two modems with few clicks. He followed the man's path and no second later opened the same file.
"I think we found our culprit." Gupta muttered lifelessly.
The Turk narrowed his eyes behind his mask as he stared at the blurry photo of a man who just entered a bank followed by two men that were well equipped with all kinds of weapons, even Kalashnikovs. The man himself was unarmed but carried a briefcase with him which's contents most likely could ruin a whole company in no time. He wore a black coat that reached down to his ankles and a white shirt. This picture was a rather hard contrast to Sadiq's portrait of him. He wasn't smiling nor relaxed or happy. He was just cold; cold and determined.
"This makes it complicated…" Gupta muttered under his breath but it wasn't low enough for his boss to overhear it.
"Why would it be complicated now?" he hissed; his eyes practically glued to the photo on his desktop; or rather: Glued to the Greek shown in the photo.
"Heracles always makes things complicated. Especially for you." If anyone other than Gupta had uttered this last sentence they would have had a nice round hole in there forehead by now. The Egyptian was perfect at disguising it but he noticed way too much and Sadiq told him way too much. But the past was the past and had nothing to do with the present.
"Bullshit. We'll face him head on." Slowly reality caught up with him. For years now, Sadiq and Heracles had circled each other without landing a direct hit or opening the fire. The Greek had made the first step tonight. Finally he was within his reach, he could crush him now. A smile spread across the Turk's face. "It's about time."
"Does that mean we're at war now?" His assistant asked, already typing again.
"Yep. Here is our plan: Find his burrow, smoke him out, salvage him, finish him."
"Sounds easy enough." Gupta commented. Sadiq Adnan rose to his feet and took his mask off to enjoy the sight of his enemy to the fullest.
"Let the hunt begin."