Viv scans the documents scattered across the table: dossiers, overhead maps, photos of buildings. It seems to be the makings of an espionage operation or a heist. But the look on Tyler's face betrays a different motive – something darker. It only takes a moment for the realization to sink in that Deckard's absence is no coincidence. There's a scar on Tyler's temple that hadn't been there when she last saw him. His clothes and weapons are different. The handle of<span style="font-style: italic">Virtue</span>, that iconic sword she could never forget, is absent from his back. Something has gone horribly wrong in the time since they last spoke.<br/><br/>Tyler doesn't answer when she asks what he's doing there. He gives her a cold stare before regarding the documents on the table. Crystal ends up answering for him.<span style="color: #40bf00">“The time has come for a change in leadership.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“What are you talking about?”</span>Viv asks, her eyes trained on Tyler. Something about his demeanor gives her a feeling of dread.<br/><br/><span style="color: #40bf00">“Slater's time is over. She lacks the foresight to see her legacy passed to one who is best suited for it. She's mired in the old ways, tethered to a man who could not hold his power. A smart leader would have aligned herself with the man who was strong enough to destroy him. Instead, she made him an enemy.”</span>Crystal looks at Tyler, then back at Viv.<span style="color: #40bf00">“I will not make the same mistake.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“Made him an enemy...?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“She killed Deckard and left me for dead.”</span>Tyler answers bluntly.<br/><br/>Viv swallows, feeling a sudden twinge of sadness. She can't quite reason why; Deckard was little more than a stranger to her: not openly hostile, but not friendly either. Why, then, was she feeling this way? The look on Tyler's face gives her a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, and for a moment she feels as though she is no longer experiencing her own feelings, but Tyler's instead. She can feel the urge to console him climbing up within her, but she pushes it back down as soon as it's realized, bewildered by the fact that such an impulse would exist.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #ffa07a">“Do not fall for him, daughter. He will destroy you if you do.”</span></span><br/><br/>Slater's words echo in the back of Viv's mind. Shaking her head, she looks at him grimly before forcing her attention back to Crystal.<span style="color: #8080ff">“So what's our move?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #40bf00">“Many are still loyal to Slater. But their loyalty will not carry on after she is dead.”</span>Crystal points to the dossiers with red ink under the photos.<span style="color: #40bf00">“But just to be safe, we need to eliminate those who would oppose us. From there, Tyler has the best chance of killing her.”</span><br/><br/>Viv nods, turning to Tyler.<span style="color: #8080ff">“She was trained by Lord Howard himself. Don't let that geisha act fool you, she's every bit as dangerous as he was.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler says nothing. He looks down at the image of Slater, feeling his fists clench in rage: a burning hatred he hasn't felt since the day he killed the men who murdered his parents.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>As night falls, she stares at the ceiling. The cracks in the stucco like the vast desert canyons in the wastes outside. She traces them idly in her mind as images of Tyler pop in and out of her thoughts. Something has changed: a sort of delayed reaction to an inherent attraction, maybe? A genuine sense of empathy for him? She had been trained to root out and analyze the feelings of others for leverage. Maybe this was an unexpected side effect of that training? But if that were the case, why would she feel his pain so acutely and be able to disregard all the rest she had sensed throughout her life?<br/><br/>In the pale moonlight, the passing minutes are almost dreamlike. She doesn't know why she walks up the stairs to his room. With each step, she can hear one inner voice screaming to turn back while another urges her to press on. Soon her movements become automatic, as if her actions were already a foregone conclusion. She turns the knob without knocking, pushing the door open slowly, watching him as he stands with his pistol aimed at her. She feels as though she's watching herself from behind her own eyes, and yet she knows she is in full control of her actions. His powerful build tenses and relaxes as he lowers his weapon. The myriad scars marking his bare torso. His long hair falling over dark blue eyes. She approaches him, bare feet feeling the chill of the hard wood floor beneath her. Slowly, she slips out of her shirt and jeans. No words exchanged between them. Their silence a testament to an awareness that this had been set in motion since the day they first laid eyes upon each other.<br/><br/>Taking her in his arms, they lie gently on the bed together.