Chapter Text
As Dottore walked through the garden of the luxurious mansion, he briefly explained the situation to Feofan.
"The mission is simple. You get them to close the deal. I don't care about your methods, as long as they don't cause problems. Aleksey Makarov isn't the kind of diplomat who has the patience for lengthy negotiations; his temper gets the better of him. But you already know that, don't you? He didn't even make you a decent offer to begin with."
"You're well-informed."
"Of course, Feofan. I was the one who suggested recruiting you in the first place. But I think I forgot to mention that you were... peculiar and ambitious."
Of course he did.
Zandik had always held him in a certain regard, even from the very beginning. At least as far as his intellectual capacity was concerned.
"Peculiar, is it? Fair enough, Doctor. I'll give you that one, because it's true. As for my mission; can I really proceed however I see fit?"
Zandik stopped dead in his tracks, bringing a hand to his chin as he stared intently at Feofan.
"I have a theory about what is going to happen."
The young man arched an eyebrow, for once being the one left in the dark.
"I won't tell you, of course."
"...."
Feofan decided to keep walking, leaving Dottore behind. The older man immediately grumbled, but there was no more time for idling. They were already standing before the mansion's grand doors, where one of the estate guards greeted them.
"Welcome. Lord Harbinger and companion, please follow me. Mr. Makarov is expecting you along with his guest, Mr. Christophe Girard."
Since they were no longer alone, Feofan kept behind Dottore, slipping into a role he already knew how to play perfectly. He would let Zandik handle the formalities, even though he knew full well that the older man found the whole ordeal utterly tedious and irritating.
"Let's get this over with quickly. Come."
He ignored the guard and went straight to the meeting room of the estate, which was familiar ground to both of them. Dottore had a complicated past with that diplomat, who was always more interested in political influence than material goods. Besides, Dottore's division did not need popularity. It needed funding.
He opened the door without knocking, a habit Feofan noticed was deeply ingrained in him, and both men inside fell silent at once. The table was cluttered with documents, two teacups, and pastries that looked distinctly from Fontaine.
Dottore was an imposing figure. The silence in the room lingered for a few beats before Aleksey finally stood up to receive them.
"Ah, here is my superior. Mr. Girard, this is the main benefactor of our agreement, as we discussed earlier."
"Oh, Il Dottore! I have heard wonderful things about your products. Unprecedented technology, and highly promising results for improving the performance and lethality of soldiers. Though... they are not for every budget, I must admit. But well, that is why I am here, isn't it? We can negotiate. I’m very interested in Serum VI, a most attractive new modification."
As the interaction played out, Feofan noticed Mr. Aleksey's grey eyes fixed squarely on him. The man clearly hadn't expected the reinforcement Dottore promised to be the very same banker who had rejected his offer without blinking.
Dottore, on the other hand, didn't seem particularly keen on wasting his time with negotiations. He pulled a small box from his coat, the exact size of a single dose of the formula he intended to sell to the man from Fontaine.
"I've brought one more sample, fresh from the lab, to help you decide. We can test it against some monster. How does that sound to you?"
Christophe looked at the object in the Doctor's hands, then glanced back at Aleksey. He shrugged, seemingly on board with the idea, though he wasn't entirely convinced yet.
It was at this moment that Feofan decided to step in, taking the liberty of introducing himself.
"Good afternoon. I am the financial advisor accompanying the Doctor today. He told me he had a client concerned with the financial side of a future investment. My name is Feofan Sergeyevich Veksel, a pleasure."
He extended his hand. The gentleman from Fontaine, a brown-haired man with blue eyes and a generous beard, let out a soft chuckle as he accepted the handshake.
"So young and already advising the high and mighty? You must be a very sharp lad. You can't be a day over twenty-five..."
"Thank you for your kind words, and no. I'm only twenty. I'll be turning twenty-one soon."
At that, Mr. Aleksey let out a disgruntled huff, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
Feofan ignored him, opening his briefcase to quickly pull out some documents. He was in his element now, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away.
"If no one objects... let's begin."
Dottore smiled, baring his sharp teeth. He then gestured for Aleksey to join him.
"None at all, banker. Do your job, that's what you're here for. Meanwhile, we'll go prepare an expedition for this test. If you'll excuse us..."
Aleksey dragged his chair back with more force than necessary as he stood, but naturally, he didn't dare talk back to his superior.
"Oh, of course, go right ahead and prepare everything. I shall be well entertained by Mr... Sergeyevich...? Good heavens, I find the surname a bit difficult to pronounce."
"Just call me Feofan. No need for such formality."
This was definitely going to be an entertaining event.
— 🧪• 🪙 —
The howling of the blizzard echoed against the mansion walls, overpowering the crackle of the desperate fires lit in every room of the massive estate.
The snowstorm had caught them off guard, but such weather was a regular occurrence in the Tsaritsa's lands. Snezhnaya's weather was the harshest and most unpredictable of all, so there was nothing to do but wait.
Mr. Aleksey had ordered three rooms to be prepared for the guests before dinner, and he now sat in an armchair in the dining room. He had followed the orders of the Doctor, who, predictably, was restless from dealing with bureaucratic affairs. Yet the Doctor was also paying close attention to the brash brat, who, of course, had hit it off with the client and was now laughing with him over some trivial nonsense.
Aleksey had considered interrupting their chat more than once, but every time he so much as made a move to stand, he automatically felt the heavy, cruel gaze of the Doctor locking onto him. It wasn't worth risking a death at his hands, as the Doctor's executions were rarely quick, always favoring the use of others as test subjects.
He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on his superior, who now seemed strangely attuned to the conversation between the banker and Christophe.
"Ah, so many business talks and so many anecdotes to tell, who would have thought? You look young, but you have an old soul. Since you're such a handsome gentleman, if I may ask, what about family? I'm sure you already have some lovely young beauty waiting for you at home."
Feofan, who was already bored of playing nice, looked directly at the Doctor and laughed, never breaking eye contact. He saw that Zandik was irritated but listening intently, and he offered no comment on how the older man was catching every single detail of the conversation.
"Well, a beauty as such, ha!, I suppose you could say he has his charms. But if I had to describe his appearance and personality... the person waiting for me 'at home' has a severe demeanor, and always acts like such a sourpuss no matter what you ask him. He has absolutely no patience and is always rushing from one place to another. He wears out my name with his complaining and is always demanding things, but then he makes up for it by letting me get away with anything. All things considered, staying alive isn't so bad."
Zandik crushed the wine glass in his hand, shattering it completely.
"Oh, so... you swing the other way? I'm not judging! Being gay is pretty common in Fontaine. I have acquaintances who are. My only concern is your unfortunate taste. Surely he can't be so good in bed that he's worth putting up with that kind of treatment..."
Christopher was so absorbed in the story that he had not even noticed what was happening. Feofan brought a napkin to his lips to hide the laughter trying to escape him. Aleksey was deathly pale, finally grasping what was going on between his superior and the brat.
They were lovers! No wonder the Doctor favored him!
"Shut your mouth, Feofan," the Doctor finally warned, the vein in his temple throbbing slightly from the strain on his patience.
"But you love it when I use it, Doctor. That's why you brought me here today, isn't it?"
With a wink from the banker, Dottore rose like lightning, turning on his heel to stride out of the room. Just like that.
What on earth?
Christopher’s laughter was deep and unstoppable, to the point where he choked on his own saliva and had to cough.
"I have never seen anything like it. How many years have you two known each other?"
"With the person waiting for me at home? A lifetime. Perhaps more than five, or ten."
Feofan closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to keep his emotions from showing on his face.
"As for the Doctor... a few months. It might look like we get along poorly, but in reality, we are great partners."
"I see. It is refreshing to see that there are still young people who maintain rebellious and entertaining personalities. You know, I feel the trip has been worthwhile just to meet you."
Feofan was caught off guard by those words. He hadn't expected that. He offered the guest a genuine smile.
"I'm glad you feel that way, Mr. Girard."
"Please, call me Christopher!"
— 🪙 —
In hindsight, he couldn't say he hadn't been warned that something like this might happen. It was already night, everyone had retired to their quarters, and Feofan had stepped out of his room.
He couldn't go outside because of the storm, but at least in the hallway, his room wouldn't fill with tobacco smoke.
That turned out to be a terrible choice.
His body was slammed against the wall by none other than Aleksey. The man's eyes were bloodshot.
"You had me fooled, brat. So you're just a cock-sucking whore. Talent? Bewitching Dottore with those little eyelashes must have been easy. You acted all dignified with me because you were aiming higher from the start, of course you were."
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
Feofan knew full well that if he struggled, the other man would only hold him tighter, and with this current body (still unenhanced, without formulas or secret combat tools) he was relatively fragile. He kept a cold, calculating mind.
"You're nothing more than a replaceable toy. Don't think that just because you have Dottore's favor now, it will always be this way."
Feofan would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so uncomfortably pinned against the wall. While the idiot kept talking, he was already figuring out how to negotiate his way out of this.
"Are you listening to me? No one is going to save you if I decide to get rid of you. The least you could do is beg a little."
Predictably, he felt a hand groping his waist. He knew this would happen eventually, but he hadn't expected the man to go for his throat so quickly.
"If you show me you know your place... things don't have to end badly."
Feofan decided to act the moment he located what he was searching for, carefully sliding it out and hiding it up his sleeve. He turned slowly, resting a hand on the older man's shoulder. Seeing him up close, the diplomat seemed to be enjoying it.
It was a shame, really; Aleksey wasn't exactly ugly. He was probably in his forties, with grey eyes and ash-blonde hair. The goatee didn't look bad on him.
Perhaps in his past life, he would have used him as a toy, had he known the diplomat harbored these kinds of interests toward him. But in this life, he had neither the interest nor any desire for what the man could offer.
"Should I get down on my knees to beg for your forgiveness?"
"Fuck, yes."
"But first... there's one thing I want to clear up. If I ever needed help with something... as simple... and annoying as this... do you think Dottore would consider me a trustworthy partner?"
"Watch your tone, boy."
The man's hand moved to his throat and squeezed lightly, though not enough to stop him from speaking.
"It is always carefully watched. I don't like my jokes being misinterpreted, because Dottore has never laid a finger on me like that. And neither will you. In fact, you won't be doing anything ever again."
The barrel of his gun finally grazed the other man's abdomen, perfectly aligned, giving him no time to realize what was happening.
He shot the bastard several times.
— 🪙•🧪—
He pushed the body off him and wiped his hand, which had been stained with the man's blood. Aleksey let out weak groans, and Feofan gave him one final shot to the head, putting him out of his misery.
The first to arrive a few minutes later was Zandik, who didn't look surprised at all.
"It seems my prediction has come true."
That was his greeting as he called a soldier over to remove the body. Since Dottore was still the superior in this hierarchy, no one dared disobey his orders. There was also a palpable sense of fear running through everyone's veins.
Feofan kept a hand on his hip.
"What do you mean?"
Dottore pointed to the bloodstain, now that the body had been carried away.
"I mean he was behind that kidnapping attempt. Do you remember when you nearly died right outside my laboratory door?"
"Oh."
"Obsession is a dangerous thing."
Feofan's gaze immediately locked onto Zandik's face. How did he dare talk about obsession? He wanted to laugh, but he could only manage a frown of annoyance. If the Doctor wanted to comment further on the matter, he kept it to himself, placing a hand on Feofan's shoulder instead.
"However, now that you've left me without a diplomat... how am I supposed to finish this negotiation?"
The question carried the tone of a professor interrogating a student, as if expecting a well-studied answer for an exam. As if he already knew what Feofan was going to say right then.
And of course, he wasn't going to disappoint. Adjusting his glasses, Feofan offered him his coldest, most professional smile.
"You could hire someone with the talent and capability to handle this kind of negotiation. Someone who already has capital of their own and knows how to make a profit."
Dottore didn't hesitate to press further.
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Someone like me."
And that was the correct answer.