The Present.

"Please, you know what I want Serghei, The Chicken!" Gale stated forcefully, softening slightly, she added, "Barring that, someone who knows the whereabouts thereof."

Serghei Bystrolyotov's weary eyes met Gale's intense gaze, his mind racing to formulate a response that would keep him one step ahead of these diabolical interrogators. The moonlight cast sinister shadows on his face, accentuating the lines of worry etched deep into his weathered features. His piercing blue eyes flickered with a mix of defiance and resignation, as he contemplated the dire circumstances that now engulfed him.

"Sadly, that would not be me," Serghei admitted, "The name of former 7th Directorate Chief, 'Serghei Bystrolyotov,' does not carry the weight that it used to."

Gale's lips curled into a sinister smile, her piercing green eyes narrowing as she absorbed Serghei's words. That very same moonlight cast haunting shadows upon her face, accentuating the wickedness that lurked within her very essence.

 A sinister smirk played upon her crimson lips as she taunted, her voice dripping with venomous delight, "That much was obvious, Sergy. I hear black-market surveillance, intelligence moved on to a younger, hotter model."

Serghei's face tightened at the remark, a mixture of annoyance and indignation flickering in his piercing blue eyes. The words struck a nerve deep within him, threatening to unravel the carefully crafted facade of stoicism he had worn throughout his career.

"Da, the pretty boy." Serghei noted, his shoulders slumping in defeat, but then he paused, in realization, "But… He would never give you The Chicken."

Gale leaned in closer to Serghei, studying his face intently. Her sharp, piercing eyes glimmered with a mixture of curiosity and determination. "Well now, you just leave that to me." Gale retorted.

Serghei was intrigued by the prospect before him. "Wait, I help you get to the Pretty Boy, and you become his problem?!" Serghei asked.

Gale's emerald eyes narrowed, noting that Serghei was taking the bait, "Think about it Sergy -- You'll best a rival, be generously compensated..."

"And I will be free to leave?" Serghei bravely interrupted, knowing that any compensation, gain would be useless to him if he did not secure his release.

"Sergy! I'm insulted," Gale started, in singsong, "This is me you're talking about." King could only humorously cough through his cigar.

Serghei, knowing why King coughed, still felt he had few options, "Then we have a deal!" He answered.