Complexity: The PX-Project

After leaving Elena's place, Pierre went back to the NRE and took the elevator to his office. He opened a drawer at his desk and brought out a familiar steel suitcase that stored his PX-syringes.

Once he opened the suitcase, this time, he took the PX-12 and PX-18 and put them in his pocket.

Upon picking up the PX-18, memories flowed into his brain:

—

"Why are you calling me here? Therma"

"I wish you still remember these people." 

"Th..They are...How do you know"

"James Zimmerman, Franklin Feta, Peter Ornstein, Markus Scholz, and Edwin Weissman."

"Who are you! This is top secret, and all the records have been erased!!" 

"I'm just a boy who has seen everything."

"...! You are their son...But how..."

*schk*

"What is that, what did you do!...ANS....r"

"It is time to retire, Mr. director"

—

Back in the car, he entered his destination: Granitz's camp. Not too long Pierre reached the entrance gate slightly earlier.

At Granitz's camp entrance, a robotic voice scanned and asked his purpose.

"Declare yourself."

"Pierre Therma, from NRE."

"What is your business?"

"Miss Freja Feta invited me for dinner."

"Confirmed."

The steel gate opened, and the car drove in, not the shortest route but a little detour. 

A little behind the scheduled time, the car finally stopped at Feta's manor gate. The fence gate opened once Pierre declared himself. The car drove past the garden lawn, with fewer workers than he'd expected. Pierre found only female workers.

Pierre came inside, guided by a maid, to a dining room. The long, luxurious table was served with a variety of his favorite dishes. Not long after, Freja came inside, wearing a thin black slip dress, showing her cleavage that, despite her age, remained striking. The fabric was so thin Pierre could easily see through to her generous breasts and nipples; her figure showed slight signs of aging, and at her lower part, she wore tiny black string underwear. Pierre gazed over her presence as she walked to the dining table.

The two sat across from each other.

"Do you like dinner?" Freja asked him with a sweet voice, but Pierre knew the true meaning.

"You look nice," Pierre said. Freja smiled, flustered.

"I do know your type, don't I?" She sat down, leaned forward until her breasts were clearly exposed, with intention.

"Shall we start with the main dish or dessert?" Freja said in a seductive voice, her hand reaching for Pierre's hand.

"I'm here for dinner," Pierre replied firmly. Freja stopped her gesture, showing a bit of disappointment.

"Well, that's what I invited you for."

Not much conversation passed between the two as Freja tried to bring up many things to catch Pierre's interest.

"Tell me more about your research on biosynthesizing using a quantum approach." Freja grinned, requested him to tell about his ongoing research."No need to waste your time on chitchat, Freja," Pierre spoke up firmly, boldly.

"I know what you want from me." Pierre wiped his mouth gently, his plate empty. Freja then changed her expression.

"So, what's your answer?" Her voice turned to a slightly serious tone.

"You are overestimating me, Freja. I cannot help your son," Pierre replied bluntly, but Freja could not accept the objection, or she could not accept the truth.

"No, Pierre, I know you can save my son. You always have a solution," Freja said, her voice trembling.

"Even if I have a way to save him, I have no motivation to do so." Pierre's voice was bold, like a stone, but sharp. Freja had a glimpse of a smile, as she had awaited this moment. She stood up and walked toward his chair.

"Maybe you just need a little boost," Freja, in her light slip dress, leaned toward Pierre and gave a passionate kiss. Her heart beat faster, as she had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Pierre played along with her lead while he grabbed a small steel case. His right hand held a PX-12 syringe. While Freja kissed him with passion, he reached for her back neck and injected the substance into her.

"Ouch!" Freja was surprised by Pierre's action.

"What is that?"

Pierre gave a vague answer. "Just a little boost," he said, his voice toned down, dimmer, matching Freja's seductive voice.

"You little brat," Freja smiled, believing in her victory over Pierre's desires.

"Today, I prepared a special service for you," Freja said.

"Come in," she called out, and soon all the maids came into the dining room. They were beautiful, a mix of young, pubescent, or aged but youthful like Freja. All of them were from foreign nations like Brit, Dytch, Frank, and York. They wore black gothic lingerie uniforms and a choker. All of them must be prisoners from the recent war. The oldest one with orange hair seems to from Britland. She looked a little depressed as her eyes showing less emotion. Next was the curly-brown hair with stunning lip from Frankland. Several bruised marks on her body and her eyes sight were lost as if she had no interest in this world anymore. Then, an athletic type girl with a short black hair, she looked firm and muscular. This girl must be one of the prisoner from the recent York's invasion. Pierre lingered his eyes to the last girl who seem to be the youngest as her eyes and atmosphere showed signs of innocent. A blonde with purple highlight hair and stunning cheekbones, her appearance made Pierre recalling a person. Freja had her grin as he saw Pierre lingering his eyes on the youngest girl. Then she began to introduce the youngest girl. "This girl has been recently captured and specially she is untouched." Freja moved behind the youngest girl, wrapped around her shoulders before lingering hand down to the girl's thighs. Pierre saw the little shaking with fear, then her body stopped shaking as Freja stopped her movement.

All the maids came in and aligned in a line behind Pierre's seat. As he turned back, Freja stayed at the front, acting like their leader. They all bowed down, treating Pierre as their master.

"Let us treat you, Master Pierre," the maids and Freja spoke together.

Freja started by stripping off her slip dress, down to the wooden floor. Her breasts were exposed in front of Pierre, and her tiny g-string tightened around her shaved spot. Other maids came around him, began to unbutton his shirt, while others slowly stripped themselves. Pierre did not lost his focus as he had also prepared something for tonight.

"I have a special surprise for you as well, Freja," Pierre smirked. The maids and Freja paused their actions, waiting for what Pierre was doing.

"Show me," Freja smiled, anticipating a surprise.

Pierre quickly but precisely pressed a panel on his watch.

Not long after, the sound of a door opening was followed by steps walking toward the dining room where the show was. Freja and the maids heard the incoming sound.

"Who is coming, Pierre?" Freja, half-naked, trembled. The maids also trembled, as they did not know who was coming.

"Tell me!" Freja shouted at Pierre.

Not long after, the dining room door opened, and a figure appeared: a fat, bald, pointy-ears, aged man with an ugly face, a double-layered neck, in a dark-green uniform. The star on his shoulder showed his rank was admiral.

"Steven!" Freja was shocked at his presence, while she was half-naked and trying to put on her clothes to hide her figure. The maids were also stunned; some collapsed on the floor, trying to hide themselves.

"W…Wh…Why are you here?" Freja asked Steven, but he did not respond.