TEP Chpt 12

=The Eagle's Perch=
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==Chapter 12 - Interest==
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===Shadows of War===
Kiyev - Oriente, Free Worlds League
2732 AD
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Johnson Johanson Halas Junior
The Parliament-in-Exile reformed on the idyllic world of Kiyev. While civilized, there were still vast tracts of untamed land just outside the world's capital and the six major cities. Gently rolling plains, choking marshes, and a small local desert on the continent of Nova Scythia were products of a century-long bioformation effort sometime during the ancient days of the Terran Alliance.
 
In fact, Pokrovka, the capital of Kiyev, was built on top of the local woodland, long ago. The timber of the centuries old old-growth forests fueling its growth. Once famous for its luxury timber exports, Kiyev then became famous for its beautiful and intricately planned cities. Pokrovka itself was beautiful, efficient, and defensible, built in Barcelonan grid style.
 
Many small blocks of buildings and pseudo-arcologies combining their local roads and properties together to form a mega block, self-contained cities in their own right. Every mega block contained their own interna market,l production, and processing district, becoming more complex the closer they were to the city center and DropShip port. Each mega block would be separated by a mega highway. Gigantic expressways of open flat ferrocrete roads designed for the efficient flow of goods and services from the outskirts through the mega blocks and terminating into the DropPort.
 
These cities were the product of necessity for competing in the cutthroat luxury market. Especially when the mercenaries arrive to take care of someone's competition.
 
The century of peace given by the Star League had not eroded the three pillar qualities of Kiyev's cities. They were built into the city planning and regulations practically from the start.
 
It made Kiyev perfect as a place to hold Parliament. Distancing the rebellion from any one Province was important symbolism. This was a rebellion for what was right and just. To overthrow the worst leader since the final days of the deeply perverted, corrupt Terran Alliance. The rebellion could never be headquartered in the capital of any one province. This was a rebellion for all of us.
 
'Coincidentally', as a tourism oriented world, there were many amenities for the leaders of the rebellion to enjoy. Parks, artificial lakes and rivers, spas, casinos, hotels, arcades, bustling market avenues, you name it, the world had it.
 
Liquor, especially, was prominent. Bars, restaurants, diners, hotels, and more served everything from outback prison wine to Arcasian Delights. You could order the rawest swill and right after drink the most expensive expressions of conspicuous consumption. The servers wouldn't hesitate to give it, proud as the people were of their adventurous taste buds. Something to be expected from a world that built its fortune on the back of roughneck hick woodcutters.
 
I was enjoying some good old rye beer while Adisa nursed a shot of Malibu. It was probably the most sickly sweet thing I've ever smelt.
 
I could just about tolerate how that thing tickled my nose. "I said it before, I'll say it again, Adisa. That is a terrible drink."
 
"Ah, come off it, old man. You just can't handle your alcohol." He scoffed.
 
"I can handle my alcohol just fine, boy. What I can't handle is the amount of diabetes inducing sugar I can smell from over here." I grunted out. What was with kids and their obsession with sugar? My boy, Adisa, was practically addicted to the stuff.
 
Adisa smirked at me, in that same insufferable way when he saved my life back on Kyeinnisan. "It's called Chaptalization," he stated matter-of-factly, "You might know about it if you were as cultured as I am."
 
I rolled my eyes at that, even as I smiled. He hadn't changed much when we linked up. Ever irreverent and always needling me. It was like I raised a back-talking teenager. Not that I didn't enjoy it, it was good that the kid was growing up straight backed and even eyed.
Humility and meekness was for other folks. Adisa was all about being rowdy, always chasing the high of life.
 
He continued, looking down at his drink, eyes far away. "And, besides, it does an excellent job of hiding the bitterness and acidity." Rum wasn't bitter nor particularly acidic. He was talking about something else, and I knew what.
 
"The war?" I prompted.
 
"Among other things," he sighed.
 
Adisa was a mercenary by trade. When mercs get hired, it's always to protect or destroy something, with special attention to avoiding overt collateral damage. No one who's remotely important wants to bring down the higher authorities, particularly when those higher authorities involve the Star League. He was used to orderly contracts and precision strikes by professional mercenaries, and 'mercenaries', inside BattleMechs.
 
Kyeinnisan, fucked us all up. It was our first introduction to the war. None of us were new to combat, but proper warfare was something else.
 
Sometimes, I wake up in sweat, hearing the distant thunder of artillery. During the quieter moments of the battle for Kyeinnisan, I confided to Adisa about that. He commiserated, at first. He fully sympathized after the Anti-Spinward opened up.
 
When Sardis fell, after hounding us for weeks, the traitor Marik Militia packed in their gear and left. Except, they didn't just up and leave. Apart from wrecking the cities as collateral, they scorched the earth. Whatever they could grab their filthy hands on, they took. Whatever they couldn't, they shot, exploded, or set on fire.
 
Luck City was a ruin. Homeless refugees choked the streets our BattleMechs marched through and left behind. The casinos that made Kyeinnisan famous were hollowed out. And The Crown, the grav-port of Naypyidaw, was broken. A grav-port, and home to a thousand souls, that existed since the Age of War was foundered. Broken in two. Its ruined steel turned into a brace of meteor showers that lit up the night sky as tears of fire.
 
They still light up Kyeinnisan's night sky.
 
Adisa told me when he closes his eyes, he sees the haunted faces of the families of spacers staring blankly at those lights. Their wails of grief were absent, their eyes cried no tears, their faces neither in sorrow nor fury. When he went to try to cheer a young mother up, he looked into her black eyes and saw the yawning abyss of nothingness. He turned and left without saying a word.
 
Yes, none of us were strangers to fighting. We were just strangers to the brutality of the Civil War.
 
We could only take solace that we fought the war into a stalemate. A war we should have been losing by now. A war all rebels had no illusions of almost certainly losing.
 
That's two things I owe Boris for.
 
Adisa sighed a final time before reaching into his pocket to slam a twenty on the bar table. "We ought to go. Parliament is starting soon."
 
I grunted in reply and paid my share.
 
It was a short walk from the bar to the hotel Parliament bought out, standing one-hundred and fifty floors high. The mega block it resided within had been specifically chosen because it wasn't Capitol Hill for the world, allowing local governance to continue undisturbed. Additionally, it was two mega blocks away from the DropPort and city center. The artificial lake the hotel had a scenic view over was probably another factor.
 
A grand neo art deco thing, it was a tastefully near classical piece of architecture. Beautiful to look at, beautiful to stay in. Even if there was a distastefully distinct lack of marble and chrome. No building was in a true classical style without both.
 
When we approached the conference hall that Parliament commandeered, muffled yelling could be heard. That room was sound proofed. We shouldn't be hearing anything.
 
Adisa gave me a look before approaching to open the double doors. The second those doors opened, our ears were assaulted by a screeching match between baboons.
 
"—AND IF YOU HAD TITS WORTH A DAMN, MAYBE YOUR SON WOULDN'T BE HIDING HIS FACE IN SHAME!"
 
Inside was pandemonium. The Parliamentary session had not begun yet, and already MPs were already hurling insults at each other as if we were in a school playground.
 
"WELL, IF YOU HAD A BRAIN AS BIG AS YOUR TITS, MAYBE HALF YOUR REGIMENT WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!"
 
Strong words. Stronger lungs. Screeched under the aegis of the Chasuble. The two women screaming at each other were Barons of world-provinces, leaders of their militias, and members of two opposing camps. Ever since the war ground into a miraculous stalemate, all members of the rebellion were itching to push their luck just a bit further and pull a decisive victory.
 
One camp wanted to end the war by taking Atreus. Atreus wasn't just the Capital of the fallen Free Worlds League, it was the locus of civilian and military administrative effort. Its fall would throw the entire traitor war effort into chaos. It was an excellent plan, in my opinion. Cut the head of the snake, and the body was sure to follow. It would save us from a lot of pain and suffering from dragging this war on longer than was absolutely necessary.
 
The other, wanted to win the war of attrition by taking Regulus. All of Regulus. Then push onwards to crush the Marik Commonwealth with overwhelming numerical and material advantage. I didn't like that plan to put it lightly, even if it gave a chance to kill The Bitch and end the war quickly, winning the war decisively mattered more.
 
I spied Boris sitting to the right of the Speaker of the Senate's Chair, the traditional place of the acting Captain-General. He sat with a prominent lean to the left, towards the Regulus camp, a subtle nod to his soft stated preference.
 
Despite being ostensibly neutral, the moderating forces of Parliament could present their personal preferences. They just did so quietly and subtly. Boris gave his two weeks ago, during an informal pre-meeting, by asking that the Members of Parliament allow for cooler, more level heads to prevail. That, as this was a military matter, greater consideration should be given to experienced members in military affairs. He then turned around and asked Baron Juliet Harding to stand and give her testimony on the 'correct' course of action. Incidentally, she was a member of the Regulus camp, and was the woman currently screaming how Baron Anastasia Ngubu was an idiot for losing half her regiment.
 
This had gone on for two fucking weeks. It was also the reason I was in a bar instead of inside here. Our government was split evenly down the middle, arguing in circles, and that was giving me a headache. The screaming starting before we were supposed to begin was new.
 
"What the fuck," Adisa whispered disbelievingly. I snorted, half amused and half-pityingly. This was just how Parliament was. You needed to be a political animal to stand a chance here. Sometimes the animal part was taken too seriously.
 
I clapped Adisa on the shoulder and gave an apologetic look. There was something in his eyes when they met mine, but I dismissed it as I left. Much as I hate how our government worked, it was important to fulfill its ancient traditions. That meant standing beside Allison in the Atreus camp to show my support.
 
A few more MPs trickled in after us. Each one of them gave some variation of tired resignation to what greeted them. Like an office drone being greeted with how shit their work day would be.
 
As the last MP took their seat, the Acting Speaker stood from the dais, took his microphone and at last spoke over the screaming matches. "Alright. Everyone is here. Let us officially convene the Parliament-in-Exile." The ruckus stilled immediately at his words. What were once barely controlled school children of shit flinging baboons suddenly behaved with a decorum more appropriate for the Age of Liberalism.
 
 The Parliamentary Guard standing to the left of dais walked forward a step with a bronze ringed, chestnut wood mace. She made an exact ninety-degree turn left, walked three paces to stand perpendicular to the ceremonial gong. With the mace, she rang the gong three times.
 
The first gong was for the Senate; to bring them to order and to acknowledge their rights and authorities. The second gong was for the standing representative of the military—the Captain-General—and the Parliamentary Guards; it was a call to action, to their duties to protect Parliament and the free worlds they represent. The third and final gong was for the Speaker, to acknowledge his rights, authorities, and above all their responsibilities to the Senate and the League.
 
The double doors opposite the Speaker's dais threw open. The Speaker's Parade marched through the conference hall, led forward by the Usher of the Amber Axe. Behind him followed the Parliamentary Guard's Sergeant-at-Arms carrying the Blue Baton. Each respectively represented the Speaker of the House and the Chamber's authority to do business.
 
It was a hell of a thing to get the genuine articles out of Atreus. Thankfully, the faithful of the Parliamentary Guards stepped up to the plate and secreted it away within the first month of the war. My family long had their doubts about the loyalty of the Parliamentary Guards. Not anymore.
 
The Parliamentary Guards were originally a nomadic, spacer Warrior House, of Capellan stock. By tradition, they had no family names, for they owed their lives to their liege and their honing their warcraft. The Age of War pushed the borders of the Free Worlds League into their traditional Space. Defeated, surrendered, and unable to serve the CapCons and the Liaos, they were left without a purpose.
 
Then Parliament under Peter Marik II, better known as Peter the Great, gave them a new life and a job. Peter the Great and his Parliament passed the Liberation Act of 2448, a path to citizenship for all. It wasn't easy to become a citizen of the League by any means, but it was possible.
 
Not only did the Liberation Act eliminate civilian exoduses after the League conquered a world, it also resulted in a peculiar new crop of citizens. 'Naturalized' was the old name for such people, it was born anew in that era. A radical idea at the time. A radical idea now.
 
That Warrior House applied for citizenship wholesale. They worked for it. They got it. Parliament then noticed a Warrior House inside the League without any ties to any political force within the League, conveniently made entirely out of citizens. Parliament struck while the market was hot. From it, they got politically neutral guards wholly dedicated to their duty of protecting Parliament, with an acceptable level of loyalty. Something to counterbalance the Captain-General's own parliamentary guards.
 
Nowadays, I and many of my partners here in Parliament, recognize the Parliamentary Guards loyalty is not merely 'acceptable'. Later, when this war is over, they will be properly rewarded for their dutifulness.
 
Boris Marik slowly stood up from the Captain-General's seat. He descended the dais and approached the center of the room. In the middle of Parliament were the Clerk and Table Officers. There he met with the Parade and drew the Captain-General's sword in salute to the Speaker of the Senate, before standing aside and letting them pass through. Just as they passed, Boris stepped forward and slowly brought up the rear, sword still drawn, resting upon his shoulder.
 
The Parade ended with the Speaker ascending the dais and taking his seat. The bearers of the Amber Axe and the Blue Baton resting the symbols of our offices upon the Clerks and Table Officers table. As this happened, Boris' slow march ended to the foot of the Speaker's dais, just in front of her. He did a sharp about-turn to face Parliament to perform another sword salute before sheathing his sword and taking his seat.
 
The honorable Speaker, Angajuk Luo, took her gavel and hammered four times. Each smack of the gavel to represent the four original founders of the Free Worlds League in those ancient times.
 
The first hammer of the gavel represented the League's military traditions, championed by Detlev Marik. The second hammer of the gavel called to mind the League's history of statesmanship, represented by Tomás Allison. The third hammer of the gavel acknowledged the League's merchant traditions, as important to our identity then as it is now. The fourth and final hammer of the gavel was for Sir George Humphreys, representing diplomacy, and unity of all that came before.
 
At the fourth and final pound of the hammer the Speaker of the Senate rose, "Hear me, o' honorable Senators of all free worlds, I now call in to order the four hundred and sixtieth session of Parliament."
 
Parliament had officially begun.
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===Relentless Drive to achieve Victory.===
Parliament-in-Exile deviated significantly from normal Parliament. For one, the Meeting of the Whole did not elect the Speaker for that session. We simply choose the most senior of the MPs to serve.
 
While not strictly traditional, allowances had to be made for the Civil War. For the time being, neither the Speaker nor the Captain-General shall be replaced or removed from their position. It was simply too dangerous to hold elections and appointments right now.
 
Secondly, what was supposed to follow after the Speaker called to order the current session to order was the Tabling of Documents, giving notice of Motions and presenting Petitions. Instead, the screaming match picked up where they left off while also going through the proper procedures.
 
The Table Officers, stoic as ever, quickly disseminated the various documents, proposals, and movements to all. I could see MPs reading the papers and noteputers while also insulting each other's parentage. As the weeks passed on, the MPs have been getting rowdier. Everyone's convinced we can end this war soon.
 
"Interesting…" Allison said ahead of me. Seated on the right side's front row, she was technically part of the Speaker's Cabinet. But, without access to any of the League's bureaucracy, her position was functionally defunct. It's really inconvenient trying to manage a multi-stellar responsibility on word of mouth. Fucking paperwork. Can't live with it, can't live without it. "Johnson, have you read this yet?"
 
I grunted, questioning what she was looking at.
 
She didn't show it, but I could feel her rolling her eyes at me. She looked over her shoulder and flipped the paper behind for me to grab. Absent-mindedly, I reached out, watching as an MP flip the bird and pump their hips suggestively. Before I could take it, she moved it just out of reach. "Pay attention, Jay. This one is from Boris' aide-de-camp, Adisa."
 
As the final MP got their papers, shouting faded out into a low murmur. The Statements segment had just begun, the Speaker rose to begin that part of the session, and gave the floor to Boris. He rambled on about giving due acknowledgements, but my eyes and mind tore away from the rest of the room to give the paper the full weight of my attention.
 
Adisa's paper was simply a collation and analysis of our intelligence efforts. I breathed a small sigh of relief, it was nothing to panic about. He wasn't trying something stupid like getting involved in politics to hurry Parliament along.
 
With all of her fleets busy protecting important docks or stemming the horde of rebel DropShips, it looks like Elise Marik isn't going to leave Regulus any time soon. Regulus was buckling against the onslaught, especially from Humphreys' Coreward flight. A hundred and more raids were happening across the length, depth, and breadth of the principality. They're being bled to death by a thousand and one cuts.
 
Regulus always had the most to gain from the League. As the League prospered they prospered more, as the League suffered they suffered the least. It's bred a certain arrogance, that they can just keep gambling until they win.
 
Nobody has pissed off quite as many provinces as Regulus has. Nobody has compensated for pissing off quite as many provinces as Regulus has. Their attitude has made them just as many enemies as fair weather friends.
 
The League in the depths of a civil war only exacerbated those issues. The many rivals of Regulus are taking the opportunity presented to stab them greedy bastards right where it hurts most: their pocket books.
 
Centuries old contracts are being explicitly targeted. Warehouses, convoys, cash and resource transfers, loans payments, server farms are all being set alight. Shit, Baron Hanaya from the Rimward side of the League conducted DropShip contract negotiations with Cameron-Jones' electronics factory assembly workers. She literally went into a world, negotiated with the blue collars their new employment under her, while pointing a DropShip at them.
 
Whatever contracts Regulus made during better times… well, those aren't League worthy contracts anymore.
 
The result? The entire province is tearing their hairs out of their heads looking for a solution. Elise can't leave because the obvious solutions aren't conducive to her goals. The second she leaves is the second a certain Cameron-Jones gets a 'good idea'.
 
I let a savage grin spread across my face and grunted with approval. This was some truly delicious irony being served. Elise, having to save the province that has been her prime suspect in every conspiracy, was too good. That those bastard Regulans were eating some humble pie for being in the center of the League, the source of their smug arrogance, was an excellent cherry on top. From the smirk on Alice's face, I'm sure the rest of my colleagues would agree.
 
The only way this day could get better is if Parliament stopped arguing in circles and skipped to the part where we unhappily agree on what to do.
 
"Which why, Madame Speaker, I'd like to give the floor to my aide, Adisa."
 
Boris' words body slammed by thoughts to a halt. While it is well within his powers and the bounds of tradition to let Adisa have the floor, this was Adisa. What could he possibly have to say?
 
"As you might have seen from my short paper, Elise Marik, that bitch, will not be leaving Regulus within the foreseeable future. She has entrenched herself just outside Regulus City itself, with a permanent base. It has everything demanded by her to minimize any interaction with wider Regulus: Food, water, medicine, recreation, on-site shopping, and a hardline connection to the HPG. Whatever isn't available on-site is imported via the commandeered DropPort.
 
"But that isn't all.
 
"Being the paranoid woman that she is, she has little trust for anyone outside her immediate support network. Those people currently consists of her son and the head of SAFE, Charles Ezekial. What that means is that as far as she is concerned, every other institution and leader is suspect. She is going so far as to create these ministries in miniature within her new base, to conduct the affairs of government while away from its center.
 
Crucially, this means that the center of gravity for her administration is shifting away from Atreus.
 
"During this transition phase, she is incredibly vulnerable. In-system security would be flooded with civilian shipping necessary to facilitate the needs of Regulus and her independent base. There will be no one to notice advance scouts taking the lay of the system.
 
"Madame Speaker, it is my recommendation that the honorable Members of Parliament give this new information due consideration before continuing with their debates."
 
That was powerful leverage in the Regulus first camp's favor. Now, it made nearly as much sense to attack Regulus as it did Atreus.
 
An MP stood up after Adisa sat down. "This proves we're right! We should make for Regulus now!" The fracas from before explosively returned with vigor.
 
The Speaker began smacking her gavel against her podium to cut through the pandemonium. "That is quite enough! If there is nothing else, we shall have a recess to allow our heads to cool. Maybe then we can agree to a path forwards."
 
She was right. With what we now know, a compromise was inching closer. I could feel it. Perhaps some daring young buck might make a play to cut off the head of the snake. With the way things were, we would kill the birds with one stone. We could kill Elise and annihilate the soul of the 'loyalist' cause, and kneecap their ability to put up organized resistance. We wouldn't even have to take all of Regulus, just Regulus planet for a little while.
 
"Brains as big as my tits, eh?" Baron Ngubu questioned Baron Harding.
 
Harding rolled her eyes with an easy smile. "All is fair under the chasuble. C'mon, all that screaming has made me thirsty." Ngubu and Harding walked out arm in arm, gossiping like they weren't at each other's throat a few minutes ago.
 
That was the other part of being an MP. It's a job, and everything done in it was for the job. Nothing was truly personal. Enemies and Friends rarely stayed that. The allies and resources you need to pass a bill in one voting Division were rarely the same in the next.
I waited for Adisa at the exit to continue where we left off, but he was preoccupied giving Boris an earful. A few MPs were even watching the exchange.
 
"So what if it's not 'democratic'! You are the Supreme Commander! You shouldn't have to consult anyone for war plans."
 
"Yes I do, 'Disa. As the Supreme Commander, I answer to the representatives of this nation. I have to take their perspectives into account. Just because I can yoke the mule, doesn't mean I should."
 
That was one thing that many in parliamentarians liked about Boris personally. He was an absolute stickler for rules, both written and unwritten. But this was the first time he even approached outright stating it, usually he let his actions do the talking.
 
"Fuck their perspectives! It has been two weeks. Two weeks! Of endlessly rehashing the same arguments, again and again, just to culminate in repeating them again now that Parliament has started again. They aren't thinking, they're just screaming!"
 
"That's just how democracies work. Sometimes Parliament has to circle around before getting to the point, because the circling itself is the point. Why would anyone bother participating if they can't be heard."
 
"Meanwhile, millions are dying, more or losing their will to live. If this was bullshit about budgets, sure, let them be a bunch of screaming fucking apes. But with this many lives on the line, a man's got to make a stand…"
 
That's my boy. Straight-backed and even-eyed.
 
"Parliament has put out a standing order to see to the capture or elimination of Elise when possible. The Marik Militia are your personal guard and aren't doing anything. They are under your command to do as you please. Don't send the rebel military. Send us in. I'll lead the 8th and do a deep raid into Regulus to cut the head off the snake."
 
Around me, parliamentarians were giving approving or considering looks. I could tell rumors of the deep raid would be flying with the jetstream soon.
 
"Follow me." said Boris.
 
"No," I whispered. I felt my stomach fall through a pit as I watched the two disappear behind a side door. I went to follow after them and keep Adisa from committing an elaborate suicide, but the throng of people surged, and I was swept away.
 
As the tide of humanity carried me away, I could hear the odd conversation through the murmuring of the crowd. Deep raid, they said in approving tones. Weakening the Captain-General always gets Parliament's approval, even if it meant getting good people killed.
 
I had to find Boris. I can't let him even consider letting Adisa do that.
I couldn't find him. I had to go to his secretary and ask for an appointment as soon as was possible.
 
Look at me, a man of my station walking up to a baseborn secretary, hat in hand, to beg for an appointment. I've never felt more pathetic.
 
"You know, I never expected having to meet with you. I always expected dealing with Oriente would be done personally, between me and Alice in the boardroom," Boris said.
 
I was in no mood for mind games, so I grunted out my reply, "It isn't about Oriente or whatever other fucking political crap is on your agenda. It's about the deep raid Adisa put in all our heads." I wasn't polite. Like the sky outside, my mood was dark. The hardwood fineries of the hotel's office would normally interest me, but they were so much lipstick on a pig with the topic at hand.
 
"You're opposed?" he asked, as he leaned back in his chair.
 
"I am. It's a stupid idea that will just get good men killed."
 
"Not what I expected from you. As one of the foremost hardliners against the seat of the Captain-General, I expected you to be jumping with joy to see my position gamble the last vestiges of power away…"
 
"So it's not about the 8th, is it."
 
I bit tongue and nodded. My reputation precedes me, and he was right. I've always held that the Captain-General position itself was an abomination. All of the troubles of the Free Worlds League traces its origin to that seat. I couldn't give a shit if all the faithful Marik Militia died wholesale trying to kill Elise.
 
"It's Adisa."
 
"Your friendship while touching won't stop me from sending him in. I have few people I implicitly trust, and he's one of them."
 
He wanted to go through with it! My mouth dropped in shock. "You'd kill one of your best men and friends for revenge?!" I gasped disbelievingly.
 
He leveled me the most haunted, serious look I've ever seen on a man. Arms folded, he leaned in on his desk towards me, and whispered, "I'd personally kill all of my friends if it meant we could right all that went wrong."
 
I choked on that. The man had no one left but his friends. His mother died from depression, his father died from assassination, his only relatives left want to kill him and mount his head on their fireplace. And he would willingly kill the only people left in his life that love him, and for what?
 
"For the League?" I asked.
 
"No," he answered. "To do what's right for the people."
 
He was a madman.
 
"It's more than that." I blurted.
 
He gave me a look, one you'd give to a child throwing around non-sequitur.
 
"Not you," I corrected. This entire day was fucking up my shit. "It's about Adisa Selaj."
 
"If you're trying to shock me about how he's actually related to the League's Selaj, then I already know. It was a little obvious, his act is too good."
 
"It's not that. He doesn't know." Boris looked at me suspiciously. He was right to. How could I know something like that, something so intimate.
 
I took a deep breathe before the plunge.
 
"Adisa Selaj is my son."
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