The Present.

"Please, you know what I want Serghei, The Chicken!" Gale blared. Her voice softened. She then added, "Barring that, someone who knows the whereabouts thereof."

Gale’s intense gaze met the weary eyes of Serghei Bystrolyotov. His mind raced to plan a response that would keep him one step ahead of her. Sinister shadows from the moonlight highlighted the worry etched onto his aged face. A blend of defiance and resignation shone in his piercing blue eyes as he considered his dire predicament.

“I’m afraid that would not be me,” Serghei said with a sigh. “The name of former 7th Directorate Chief, 'Serghei Bystrolyotov,' does not carry the weight that it used to.”

A wicked smile stretched Gale’s lips as her sharp green eyes, narrowed in thought, took in Serghei’s words. Her shadowed face in the moonlight revealed her inner wickedness.

Her voice dripped with venomous delight. "That much was obvious, Sergy. I heard black-market intelligence moved on to a younger, hotter model."

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

"Da, the pretty boy," Serghei said, 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. Her sharp, piercing eyes glimmered with determination. "Well now, you just leave that to me," Gale retorted.

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

With her emerald eyes, Gale saw Serghei taking the bait. “Think about it, Sergy. You will defeat a rival. I will pay you generous compensation...”

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

"Sergy! I'm insulted. This is me you're talking about," Gale said in singsong.

King could only cough through his cigar.

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