Space Age: Echoes of Eternity

Vargas stepped into the restaurant, a dimly lit establishment with sleek, minimalist designs. Soft lights hovered overhead like floating orbs, casting warm glows across the polished surfaces of the dining tables. The place was exclusive, a quiet, hidden gem nestled in one of the towering buildings that made up the city's skyline. The kind of place where the elite came to have discreet conversations, well out of earshot of prying eyes or listening devices.

At the far end of the restaurant, sitting comfortably in a plush booth, was Investigator Beirut. His tall frame and commanding presence stood out even in the relaxed setting. Next to him, his wife sat with her hands folded neatly, her unsettling but perfectly poised smile never wavering. She nodded politely as Vargas approached, her eyes lingering on him for just a moment longer than necessary, before she excused herself from the table.

"Raul!" Beirut's voice boomed with warmth and familiarity. "Glad you could make it."

Vargas slid into the seat across from him, offering a small smile of his own. "Wouldn't miss it, Sebastian."

Beirut poured two glasses of wine from the decanter already sitting on the table. "This one's on me," he said, sliding a glass over to Vargas. "Good to catch up with an old colleague."

Vargas took the glass, but only gave it a brief sip, setting it aside. "I hear you've had an interesting case on your hands. Something magical, I assume?"

Beirut leaned back, swirling his wine as he spoke. "Yes. It's been... challenging, to say the least. I've been tracking a group dealing with ancient arcane relics. Powerful stuff. More powerful than anything I've come across in years. I suspect there's a connection to a certain... rising cult."

Vargas raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "A cult? Sounds like your expertise."

"Exactly," Beirut said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "These relics? They're not just any magical artifacts. They seem to have ties to the divine realm- to corruption. And now... well, things are escalating."

"The divine realm? You think they're worshippers of the Cataclysma" Vargas asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Could be, though I'm still not one hundred percent sure."

"And where do I come in?"

Beirut's eyes twinkled as he met Vargas' gaze. "You deal with aliens, Raul, not magic. But I'm sure you've seen the overlap. Some of these things… they aren't just magical. Perhaps theres some involvement with something off-world. Adventurers, maybe?".

Vargas nodded. He had seen plenty of strange things during his career, things that blurred the line between magic and extraterrestrial phenomena. Adventurers were the names given to people that did not belong to any one faction, instead they scour the universe doing odd jobs and looking for treasure. "You think it's related?"

"Perhaps. I'll need your eyes on it, just in case. Besides, we could use someone with your expertise. You've got a knack for seeing things the rest of us might miss."

Vargas couldn't argue with that. He also couldn't help but notice how convenient this was. Working together with Beirut meant he'd have more opportunities to keep an eye on him. The Bureau was suspicious of his movements, and Vargas had been tasked to watch him carefully. A collaborative investigation could be exactly what he needed to stay close without drawing suspicion.

"All right, I'm in," Vargas said, tapping his fingers on the table. "But I'll need something in return."

Beirut raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I have a case of my own that's been brewing for some time," Vargas explained, choosing his words carefully. "It's alien-related, but... complicated. I could use your expertise when the time comes."

Beirut smirked, clearly intrigued. "A trade, then?"

"Something like that," Vargas replied.

They shook hands, sealing the unspoken agreement. The two men had different areas of expertise, but in a universe where the lines between the arcane and the extraterrestrial often blurred, their collaboration could be invaluable.

"Let's make it official over dinner," Beirut said, signaling to the waiter. "And maybe you'll tell me more about this case of yours?"

Vargas chuckled softly, keeping his cards close to his chest. "In time, Sebastian. All in good time."

As the first course arrived—an intricate arrangement of delicate, vibrant dishes—the conversation between Vargas and Beirut drifted back to their earlier days. The casual atmosphere of the restaurant provided the perfect backdrop for reminiscing, but beneath the laughter and easy banter, Vargas remained vigilant, subtly probing for any cracks in Beirut's facade.

Beirut smiled as he cut into his dish. "Do you remember that case on Arconis III? The one with the awakened wraith?"

Vargas chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "How could I forget? We were nearly swallowed up by that pocket dimension it created. If you hadn't sealed the rift in time, we would've been trapped in there for good."

Beirut's eyes sparkled with amusement. "You make it sound like I did all the work. You're the one who managed to keep those beasts off us long enough for me to focus."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't exactly easy holding off those things while you were chanting some ancient incantation," Vargas teased. "You owe me for that one."

They both laughed, but as the conversation shifted to more serious matters, their smiles faded.

"That was the case that got me promoted," Beirut said, his tone growing more reflective. "I learned a lot from working with you back then. We both did."

Vargas nodded, remembering those days well. Arconis III had been one of their first major collaborations. It had been an intersection of both their worlds—magic and extraterrestrial threats. Wraiths were highly unstable aliens and this one had awakened allowing it to tear holes in space and time, drawing in unwary travelers and entire cities. They had hunted it across star systems before finally cornering it on Acronis III.

Beirut smiled. "It's always been a strange mix of tech and magic in our cases, hasn't it?"

"It has," Vargas agreed, taking another sip of his drink. "Which is why I'm not surprised we're dealing with something like this again. Aliens, magic, something... more. It's always something more."

Their conversation paused as the next course arrived—succulent cuts of meat accompanied by side dishes that practically shimmered under the ambient lighting. As they began to eat, Beirut's tone shifted, becoming more introspective.

"Do you ever think about the people we've lost over the years?" Beirut asked, his voice quieter now.

Vargas glanced up, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I try not to dwell on it, but yeah. Sometimes. It's part of the job, though. We've both seen our fair share of good people taken down."

"I lost one of my best investigators during that incident on Xerxes Station," Beirut said, his brow furrowing. "She was with me for nearly a decade. Trusted her more than anyone."

"I remember her," Vargas said, offering a solemn nod. "She was sharp. The way she handled that unstable nexus... one of the best magic users I've seen."

"Yeah." Beirut's smile faded. "That was a hard loss. The closer we get to these mysteries—whether it's magic, aliens, or whatever else—people tend to fall through the cracks. Too many threats, too many variables."

Vargas stayed quiet for a moment, feeling the weight of the conversation. They had both lost people. Friends, colleagues, fellow investigators who had been consumed by the dangerous worlds they explored.

"So," Beirut said, clearing his throat. "How is Davik doing right now, especially after the accident?"

Vargas recalled the accident, it was the last mission the pair would have together before Davik became a fully promoted Investigator. "He's doing well now. He has his own entourage, even another Awakened".

"That's good to hear, many people would quit after something like that, Davik was always an optimistic fellow".

"Yes that he is. He recently reapplied for the schola license, got promoted to a B-class Awakened".

"B-class! He's about to catch up with me!" Beirut laughed. "If I recall aren't you still C-class"

Vargas nodded as he continued to eat.

"Why don't you also reapply, you can definitely make it to the top of B or maybe even A"

Vargas shook his head, "There's no point, you know how they conduct their tests. My technique is not good for mass destruction. Besides I quite like my station right now, I want to retire peacefully you know."

Beirut heartily laughed at the answer.

Their conversation continued, weaving through their many shared experiences—the time they dealt with the corrupt governor of Thalaxia, the hunt for the star serpent that nearly devoured a colony world, and countless others.

But beneath it all, Vargas stayed cautious. He let Beirut talk, but he didn't reveal much himself. Beirut was sharp, but Vargas needed to stay a step ahead, especially now. If Beirut really was hiding something—if his wife was part of it, or if this mysterious cult was pulling him deeper—Vargas needed to know. But for now, he kept his suspicions hidden beneath the mask of old camaraderie.

After a few hours, their plates were cleared and the night grew late. Beirut leaned back in his seat, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's good working with you again, Vargas. We make a pretty good team."

"We do," Vargas agreed, returning the grin. "But let's see what this next case brings. I've got a feeling it's going to get a lot more complicated before it gets easier."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Beirut said with a wink.

As Beirut stepped out of the restaurant, the cool evening air of the city washed over him. The skyline glittered in the distance, a testament to the wealth and power that ran through the veins of this world. Hovering cars zipped by above, their soft hums blending with the subtle ambiance of distant conversations and the rhythmic thrum of the metropolis.

Standing by one of the sleek, floating vehicles was his wife, Alira. She greeted him with a smile that would seem pleasant to anyone else—but Beirut knew better. There was something unnerving about it, the way her lips curled a bit too widely, her eyes too focused. Her prim black hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, and she wore an elegant dress that glimmered under the city lights. To the outside world, she looked like the picture-perfect wife of a high-ranking investigator, but to Beirut, she was something else entirely.

"How did it go?" she asked, her voice sweet but with a strange undercurrent. There was always that slight tension, an edge that reminded him of the darker secrets they shared.

Beirut sighed, running a hand through his beard. "As expected. Raul is cautious but willing to work together. We reminisced about old cases, shared war stories—typical stuff."

Alira stepped closer, tilting her head as she gazed at him. "And? Do you think he'll join us?"

Beirut's eyes darkened, a frown tugging at his lips. He shook his head. "Not yet. He's too... controlled. He keeps his cards close to his chest, always calculating. We need more time to assess where he stands before we make any moves."

Alira's smile faltered slightly, and for a brief moment, her eyes flashed with something more sinister. "He could be useful, you know. He's powerful, respected. If he were with us, we could accelerate our plans. The others are waiting for progress, Sebastian"

Beirut's jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath, turning to face his wife fully. "I know… A-Alira. But Raul isn't someone we can just manipulate into this. If we push too hard, he'll catch on, and then we'll lose him completely. We need to be careful."

Alira's gaze lingered on him. "And what if he refuses? What if he decides to stand against us?"

Beirut's expression hardened, and his voice lowered to a near growl. "I won't kill him, Alira. I've already told you that. Vargas is more than just another investigator. He's... different. He doesn't deserve that fate."

Alira continued the playful facade. "You're too soft, Sebastian. You've always been too sentimental when it comes to him. That's what I love about you mortals, unlike those mongrels you care about more than just yourselves, that is the true power of a soul. Unfortunately, the universe is far too cruel."

Beirut stepped closer to her, his eyes flashing with an intensity that made her pause. "No. We'll wait. Assess. If he can be swayed, then we bring him in. If not... we deal with it, but not like that. He's not some pawn we can discard."

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, a tension thickening between them as the city's lights twinkled in the background. Alira's expression softened, but there was still something unsettling in the way she looked at him. She reached out, gently placing a hand on his chest.

"Fine," she said softly, though her tone was still sharp, "I am simply an advisor as per the contract you are the one that calls the shots, but don't let your attachment cloud your judgment. We have plans, Sebastian. Big plans. And you can't let anyone, not even Vargas, stand in the way of that."

Beirut nodded, his eyes still locked onto hers. "I won't. But we'll do this on my terms."

With that, Alira continued to smile, "Good. For your sake, I hope you're right."

She turned and gracefully slipped into the hover vehicle, beckoning him to follow. Beirut stood for a moment longer, looking out at the vast city beyond. His mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts—loyalty to his old friend, the pull of the plans he and Lira had set into motion, and the dark future looming on the horizon.

As he climbed into the vehicle beside her, he couldn't shake the feeling that something far more dangerous than even he anticipated was coming.