An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Passiflora Inc.
Some said all lives were expendable to the Consortium. That was not entirely true. Otherwise they would have ended him after the South-sun fiasco as it was called by the higher executives of the company, rather than have him work blood, sweat and bribes to try and restore what was lost, hiring bounty hunters and hitmen on his own wages in hope to bring the head of the responsible for this mess to the board.
Constant loyalty and innovation, to gather new settlers, entice authorities to look past the company's shortcomings and nip in the bud the slightest sign of rebellion amongst their crews. First they complain, then they find loopholes and the next thing you know they're demanding fair exploitation conditions and riddling their workplace with explosive and dangerous wildlife!
It would take years, perhaps, but he would eventually get back into the good graces of his superior and get away from this gold-forsaken rock and its putrid low-tides.
And sure, almost a decade later and whereas the other branches experienced mediocre results after catastrophic failure – getting shipwrecked in Elona and utterly failing to gain the approval of the locals to the point it was an obscure company by the name Cactus Incorporated that had to finance their trip back to Tyria – he had single handedly managed to restored Southsun Cove to a somewhat financially stable enterprise. They expected their first positive results this year and projected a three hundred percent increase due to the ever-growing afflux of visitors from Cantha.
And now, despite the company's recent – but he was certain passing – difficulties, finally, the board summoned him for what he gathered was a very important meeting.
Lion's Arch had remained the same through the years – excepted for its seemingly regularly scheduled cataclysmic destruction – and the Consortium's Office stood out, as a bridge between the old and new architecture of the city – high walls of bright concrete, and strong wooden beams ornate with maritime motifs and banners of gold and blue floating in the wind – a design meant to be familiar and draw as many interns and customers as possible.
On this particular morning, the building certainly served its purpose as a little crowd gathered in the street, all eyes turned to the construction workers tending to the signs and banners on the front, removing their signature gold and blue, employees and interns alike outed of their office and given leeway for the rest of the day.
“I hear they're planning massive changes to the building. Repairs and restructuring.”
“Well, that means at least a few days leave.”
“Perhaps the new director will consider paid-leave?”
That last strand of information made Noll's ears stand on end.
So the rumours were true. The Consortium was experiencing a change of management. As for the reason he had been called, on this particular occasion, he could only expect other sub-directors would be just as on edge as he was. An edge that sharpened to an uncomfortable threat when he realised the reunion was over, a procession of gold and blue robed executives leaving the room.
“Sub-director Noll.”, a falsely polished voice welcomed him.
Seated at the table amongst the highest members of the board, flaunting an expensive suit and a polite smile to mask his true nature, was the person he had spent the last decade hunting in hope to have the head of – nothing attached – delivered to this very board.
“What is that terrorist doing here?”, the asura spat, ten years worth of venom spilling between his clenched teeth.
“It is customary, I believe, for the chief executive officer to be present at their company's merger.”, the cactus replied. “Our previous collaborations have always been dealt under the seal of secrecy, through the intervention of middlemen and legal representative”, he carried on, replacing a bundle of letterhead paper, bearing a somewhat familiar emblem and in golden letters the words 'Cactus Inc.', “but it felt appropriate to step into the light on this, the day The Consortium is no more. A proper way to introduce my employees to their new management.”
“And you summoned me to exact your vengeance.”
The sylvari leaned back in his chair, his stance relaxed and nonthreatening but his eyes never once leaving the Subdirector's.
“You know I would. But someone I hold dear has convinced me to let go of old grudges.”, he added, casting a glance towards the easternmost window, where a sylvari Noll had completely failed to notice, ashen of bark and golden of leaves, almost invisible against the too bright morning sky, leaned against the ledge.
“Then you are a fool.”, Noll rebuked, crossing his arms and puffing his chest as to make himself bigger. “The sole reason my men did not bring your head to this board sooner is because you cleverly fled the continent. But Lion's Arch has sellswords aplenty, who would only need an incentive to put your head on a spike and feed the rest to the crabs. Enjoy your triumph while it lasts. I will make sure it won't.”
A lengthy silence punctuated his words.
Canach took in a deep breath, eyes closed and a ferocious smirk — one that was so much more like him — drawing on his lips.
“Were you a witness to what he just said?”
The sylvari on the ledge had straightened, a shimmer of purple in his aura. A mesmer, Noll realised. It had taken him longer than he cared to admit to place that birch face, out of context, but the signature stars shimmering unnaturally at his back betrayed him : the Commander's aide-de-camp. Someone whose voice may have a little weight in the right circles, but with no real influence or authority to arrest him.
The asura turned a noxious glance towards the sylvari on his side. “Your word against mine. You and I both know how this ends, Canach.”
But the secondborn did not listen.
A little bit of static rose from beneath the pile of papers at the centre of the table.
“Well, actually.”, a feminine voice quipped. “It's your word against your word.”
“Did you copy, Elianora?”
“Loud and clear.”
“This should pique the Captain Council's interest in earnest. Don't you think, Sub-director?”
“I... don't understand.”
“We planted recorders all around the room, you hermit-skritt brain!”,
Noll's expression faintly shifted, from triumph to stubborn denial as his own voice came rising from the vocoder hidden underneath the freshly signed acquisition.
“Th-This recording means nothing without reliable witnesses to back your claim.”
“I do believe we knew that.”, Canach said, turning to the sylvari by his side.
The mesmer flicked his wrist, and with a haze of stellar gold and blood stone purple, the waves of sunlight crashing on the office faded, leaving in their stead a more natural blue sky and the shadow of a woman in a loose blue shirt and the highest position of power in the Arch.
“Captain Kiel, were you a witness to what he just said?”
“I was.”
“Remind me again, the sentence for planning, aiding and abetting an assassination...”
“Ten years per offence. Give or take.”
The sylvari leaned back in his chair, with an ineffable expression. Something Noll never believed this constant sneer of superiority and thorny features would be able to convey. Peace.
