The cab ride was quiet, save for the driver's disconnected conversation to someone else over an earpiece. Iris fidgeted nervously with the hem of her frilly white off-the-shoulder blouse, eyes darting from the taxi's dirty window to Gale. She watched as Gale's gaze drifted through the streets of Manhattan, green eyes lost in memory and reflection.

Iris pondered her new companion, so different, yet so alike. "If I may, I notice you reflect on the past quite often." She finally voiced her thoughts, intrigued by her friend's melancholic expression. Her question hung in the air, soft as a feather carried away by the cool breeze filtering through the window, stealing Gale's attention from the haphazard streets of New York.

Gale turned her gaze to meet Iris's curious look and bestowed a wry smile upon her new friend. "I suppose I do." Her voice was distant, as if she were a million miles away. "Especially when so many moments have shaped who I am. Those memories," she continued, "are like a double-edged sword that cuts both ways. Some are joyous and life-affirming, while others are heavy and burdensome."

Gale said this with a tinge of sincerity that caught Iris off guard. It was like looking into an utterly new dimension of her psyche, where the line between her ruthless exterior and soft vulnerability appeared blurred.

"Joyous as in victories over enemies?" Iris asked, furrowing her brows to understand the hardened woman before her. The question was posed with utmost sincerity, an admirable quality that Gale couldn't help but appreciate. Her eyes narrowed just a bit, as if mentally evaluating Iris.

"Yes," Gale answered quietly, "and burdensome as in past betrayals and losses endured in my time." She paused, pulling herself back from reliving memories.

"So, you have been, can be, betrayed. That surprises me." Iris' honest and heartfelt words were reminiscent of Iris' innocent outlook on those in power. Gale found herself feeling intrigued by her companion's naivety.

Gale opened her mouth to answer but hesitated, taken aback by the blatant truth in Iris' tone. For a moment, her instinct was to belittle Iris' innocent understanding of the world; to correct the naive assumption and dismiss it with a snide comment.

But Gale repressed that inclination, took a deep breath, and responded with uncharacteristic frankness. "Yes, even the powerful can feel the sting of betrayal. When you put trust in others, only to have it shattered – it leaves a mark." Her emerald eyes bored into Iris', green fire smoldering with barely suppressed intensity.

Holding Gale's gaze without flinching, Iris whispered her response, "I envy you, having experienced enough of life to form such memories. I long for the day when I have a past as dramatic as yours."

Gale raised an eyebrow and shifted her weight against the car seat. "If you live long enough, Iris." She uttered huskily, as if imparting some cautionary wisdom.

Iris' eyes narrowed, and for the first time Gale perceived the tiniest crack in her delicate facade. Beneath the pretty frills and dainty composure bubbled an indomitable spirit, eager to make her mark on the world.

Just as Gale's captivating presence had begun to thaw Iris' initial defensiveness, reality intruded upon them. The cab driver cleared his throat and directed their attention to the rundown warehouse. As Iris slid from the backseat, Gale made a show of checking her surroundings, ensuring that no one lurked in the shadows with ill intent.

Gale's heightened senses meant she had no trouble spotting the movement of a stray cat or an owl circling overhead. A faint metallic tang lingered in the air; the warehouse must have been used for storage, perhaps machine parts or scrap metal from a construction site close by.

Indeed, while Gale would be the first to claim that New York was dead and decaying, the truth is it was in a constant state of flux: a cycle of demolition, construction, and rebirth. Unfortunately, that created an environment rife with crime and criminal elements, each exploiting the vulnerabilities of the next. Tonight's rendezvous was evidence of that, a secluded warehouse in a construction zone, miles from civilization.

The cab driver, who had clearly been hoping for a generous tip, eyed them warily as Iris shut the door and made her way towards the entrance. Gale's gaze lingered on him before she joined Iris.

She took in the sight of the warehouse with a critical eye, noting the multiple entrances and exits, the varying distances that she might need to teleport if necessary, and the presence of a lone security camera aimed at the front door. The place felt dead, but Gale knew better than to let her guard down.

"You don't believe we're meeting William, do you?" Iris asked, assuming the biting words of Gale were a subtle way of hinting that she didn't trust the person on the other side of the warehouse door.

Gale's sculpted eyebrows came together as she appraised Iris, "Never react off of belief. I know we aren't meeting William." She looked at Iris with a stern gaze, piercing through the naive expectations Iris harbored. "But I'm here for you, no matter what."

As they neared the door to the dilapidated warehouse, Iris pulled out her phone, and after reading numbers from it, punched them into a keypad next to the door. There was a heavy mechanical clunk as the lock disengaged, and Iris slowly pushed the door open.

Inside, the darkness swallowed them whole. The scent of damp concrete hung heavy in the air, remnants of rainwater mingling with distant exhaust fumes seeping through cracks in the old brick walls. Iris fumbled for a light switch, her fingers eventually connecting with a cold metal plate. She flicked it upwards, and a dim yellow glow illuminated the space.

"Well, there's power." Iris muttered as if to herself, her eyes darting around the dusty warehouse. Her tiny frame looked dwarfed by the enormity of the industrial space that was once filled with heavy machinery and construction materials.

Gale, who had been a few steps behind Iris, had already taken a visual sweep of their surroundings. The floor was littered with debris from years of disuse, cans teetering precariously on planks of rotten wood; rusty tools protruding from workbenches in corners-some covered with a layer of grime and others long forgotten. Thick extension cords snaked across the floor, twisting their way towards an unseen source of energy. There was no movement, no sound aside from the faint tinny hum of electricity that powered a single overhead work light.

"The electricity is shoddy, judging by the cords." Gale noted, her eyes tracing the snaked wires across the ground. "Someone is using this place for a specific purpose but is prepared to abandon it at a moment's notice."

She walked in further, watching Iris as the younger woman once again nervously fidgeted with the hem of her frilly off-the-shoulder blouse. Gale found herself wondering for a moment, just what would it take to rattle this confident woman who appeared so self-assured and youthful?

Gale steadily moved to the only sealed door. The sound of a refrigerant compressor thrummed from behind it. She extended a hand, placing it on the handle, a knowing frown forming at the corners of her mouth. As she opened it, the lights of a meat locker flickered on. The smell of blood and disinfectant permeated the air, overpowering even the stench of dust and decay from outside. Gale entered alone as Iris stayed just outside the door.

Inside, there was only one hook in use. A man, by the size of him, was suspended from the ceiling, spinning slowly from some kind of motorized contraption. It appeared to be a makeshift slaughterhouse or butchery of sorts; the walls were covered with smears of blood and the room was illuminated by a harsh glare from the overhead lights. The man's eyes were wide open and unseeing; a pool of blood leaked from his mouth and collected on the ground below, reflecting the grotesque reality of his demise.

Gale's eyes initially flared at the sight before her, but calm returned to her as she searched the body for any clues as to his identity and what had transpired here. Her fingers gently touched the cold neck, checking for a pulse that never came. Continuing the run of her fingers over his body, she felt for, then retrieved his wallet, and pulled out his identification card.

She held it up, turning it over in her hand. The name was familiar to her—William Barnett. A shiver of cold realization ran through her as Gale took in the rest of the scene before her. The lifeless body, still swinging gently, bore several wounds, some before his death, some postmortem: all brutal.

Gale lowered her head, turning slowly and exiting the meat locker without uttering a word. In her mind, she rehearsed how she would tell Iris her husband was dead. She pushed the door open and addressed Iris, Gale's eyes still focused on the floor.

"It's William," Gale said, bringing her gaze up to meet Iris'. "He's dead." Gale's voice was cold, emotionless, as she delivered the news to Iris.

"We know," Iris snorted, stiffing a giggle as she turned toward a figure emerging from the shadows.

The man approaching them was tall and thin, but toned. He was dressed in a tight black silk shirt, dark slacks, and a bolo-tie adorned with a silver pen-drive that undoubtably contained sensitive information. He had a full head of light red hair, handsome and charming, and an air of mystery. Iris looked at him adoringly, her expression both excited and anxious. His eyes scanned Gale with curiosity, as if sizing her up for a fight—or something more.

"You must be Nikolai," Gale said smoothly, extending her hand.

"Yes, I am," Nikolai said curtly, not returning the gesture. One hand brandished a 9mm automatic, the other held a sphere-shaped metallic device. Gale flicked her gaze towards the gun and the device, raising an eyebrow at him. Nikolai smirked, seemingly amused that he had caught her off guard.

"I see of course, you have already met my sister." Nikolai said, with an ever-growing smirk as he nodded towards Iris.

Iris walked up to Gale, their faces almost touching, and took the opportunity to plant one last kiss on Gale's lips, savoring the taste of her sweet lips just a moment longer. She pulled away with reluctance and looked at Nikolai.

"Yes, we've met, dear bratishka. She fell for me, sadly. They all do, though." she said with a wry smile as she sashayed into a position across from Nikolai and pulled out a small caliber revolver and a similar, spherical device from her handbag. Gale was now at the point of a 'V' made by the two Ivanov siblings.

Nikolai's smirk grew wider, "I expected nothing less from you, sestra."

Gale studied them carefully; she could see the resemblance now that it had been pointed out, but that only made their flirtatious banter more confounding.

"I suppose someone needs an explanation." Iris finally said, her voice dripping with arrogance. "But it won't be an apology, if that's what you're expecting."

Gale tensed, not taking her eyes off the sister-brother duo. She glanced down at the gun she kept on hip and thought about making a move. But judging by how steady Nikolai's hand was, she decided against it.