Japanese/Chinese Relations // Silva & Felix (the promised starter)
It is still dark outside when Silva pushes himself out of bed, blinking as consciousness slowly coalesces within his mind. Swinging his legs out from under the covers he smiles slightly as Max grunts and turns over. The industrialist pulls the duvet closer around himself, soon falling asleep again. Silva leaves his boyfriend to slumber on.
By the time dawn has broken the cyberterrorist will have long gone.
Stifling a yawn, he goes through the usual morning rituals, before sending a guard off to collect one Felix Cortez. The boy will no doubt still be asleep himself; it is time to correct that, to sharpen the soldier’s responses. It has been such a long time since Raoul put any of his people through an early morning drill. There are other things that need working on too; Felix’s posture for one, as well as his ability to remain alert for long periods of time, without lapsing into the slovenly state of mind and body Cortez has started to fall into, as of late. It is simply not good enough for a gunman. The cyberterrorist knows just the person to go to for sessions with boys such as Felix. An old acquaintance. He’d taught the blond most of the knots he now uses.
Silva leafs through the small selection of documents in his hands as he waits for the guard on Gunkanjima’s runaway. The jet has already been re-fuelled and is ready to fly. The flight crew are mostly on board, although a small group remains standing around the tall Spaniard, waiting for orders. The cool morning breeze whips around the group of figures. It is still dark. Artificial light spills onto the runway, from the set of stadium lights rigged earlier in the years when the cyberterrorist reclaimed the Island.
Raoul hums. “The Conference starts at 14.30, which means the Vice-Chancellor will be arriving at least an hour and a half beforehand. I want to go through a few things with my contact before then, and make sure my gunman is properly placed, ah! – there you are Felix.”
Dark eyes are cast warmly over the Spanish lad that runs up to meet his commander, hair slightly mussed. Silva shakes his head. Did Cortez put gel in that sometimes, to hide when he hadn’t risen early enough to take a shower? The cyberterrorist tuts quietly under his breath, before appraising the gun strapped over the guard’s back.
“Your sniper rifle? Good. We will make use of that.” He indicates the gang-walk that’s been set up next to the waiting plane, before turning to walk towards the white steps.
“Time to visit the mainland. How’s your Japanese, Felix?”
