Zena sits alone at a polished wooden table in the ruins of what was once an opulent royal courtyard within S Corp’s Nest. The air still carries the faint, sickly-sweet scent of nectar mixed with blood. The aftermath of the incident is visible all around her, shattered glass from broken observation domes where exotic flowers were once cultivated, scorch marks from hastily deployed countermeasures, and the occasional twitching insect limb or half-formed chitinous husk.
Her black coat billows slightly as she crosses one leg over the other, lifting a delicate porcelain teacup to her lips, a habit similar to a certain someone. Steam curled lazily from its rim before she took a slow sip of what appeared to be spiced tea, golden honey swirling lazily within the dark liquid. Her expression was one of mild amusement, as if the entire ordeal had been nothing more than an entertaining outing. A smirk plays at the corners of her mouth as she surveys the scene, even as her dark grey eyes flick toward the few stragglers still lingering in the area, mostly cleanup crews and the odd survivor.
"The lengths some go to defy their nature..."
She muses aloud to no one in particular.
"That State Councillor truly believed that sacrificing themselves in such a spectacular manner would wrest the entire corrupt foundation of S Corp's agricultural monopoly."
The bees would have been fascinating things, if not for their unfortunate nature as impurities. They spread through spores carried on gusts of wind released during their hatching ceremony inside S Corp’s grand meeting hall. Those who breathed them in would find themselves eventually coughing up golden ichor before their skin split open like overripe fruit, exoskeletons painfully forming beneath flesh until drones bound to some unseen hive mind tore themselves out of their hosts. It wasn't unlike how Queen Bee's drones propagated... but these were far less controlled than L Corp's Abnormality had ever been.
"The irony is quite delicious, really. They gathered all those false ingredients, convinced their fellow officials they were creating an innovative way to synthesise the mythical Salsalikkot nectar... when in reality, they were brewing a voracious parasite from the depths beyond our City's borders."
A shame really, with more care this had the potential to truly destabilise the Wing. But alas, few elites perished, as their personnel were the first to go, willingly or not they became meat shields for the incoming miasma. Most having fled or been shielded by contingency plans even this desperate councillor failed to anticipate fully in their final act of defiance against S Corp’s overflowing tyranny.
Then there was you, standing near the palace gates when everything went wrong, witnessing firsthand the horrors unleashed upon unsuspecting attendees gathered here. You were there as a messenger of your Wing to deliver news of a trade deal between technologies, expecting nothing more than another dull political summit ending the same way every single previous gathering did: exchanges between the greedy, lining their pockets further whilst the common folk suffered silently in oppression.
Zena’s gaze settled on you, her smirk deepening as she took another sip. She had noticed you earlier, one of the few who hadn’t panicked or fled. Interesting. She tilted her head slightly, the soft tone of her voice carrying just enough weight to ensure you heard her clearly.
"Ah, a survivor. How fortunate for you."
Her tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undeniable edge beneath it, the unspoken implication that your survival was less luck and more a matter of her own discretion.
