The parking lot of Ganjo's gym was bustling. Headlights swept across the asphalt as cars arrived and departed. Each vehicle drew nervous glances from Ganjo's enforcers, who were visibly more alert than usual, positioned strategically around the perimeter. Distant sirens, car horns, and snippets of music felt louder and more chaotic than usual.

  Olt stood quietly, observing the heightened security, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes. He clutched the small paper packet of Indigo leaves in his pocket, the rough texture a small comfort. He mostly let Rebecca take charge, conserving his energy, but his gaze was sharp, taking in every detail.

  Mariah fidgeted nervously, adjusting her scarf, glancing repeatedly at the gym entrance, then back at the street. She made strained jokes, her laughter sounding brittle and forced. She sought reassurance from Ganjo, asking if he really trusted Veronica, but her questions were more rhetorical expressions of anxiety than genuine inquiries.

  Ganjo was stoic. He issued curt, clipped instructions to Ayuda, who stood silently beside his black sedan. Ganjo's analyzed the street, his expression unreadable. His posture, however, conveyed a sense of contained tension, as if he were a predator waiting to strike. He offered Olt a gruff nod of encouragement.

  "Taking this interview seriously, huh?" Ganjo commented to Olt, noting his attire. "Even dressing the part."

  Olt sighed, tiring from the comments people had made so far.

  "Yeah, I guess."

  "He's ahead of the game," Mariah added with a brittle laugh. "If we're going to start a firm, a wardrobe is definitely necessary."

  Ganjo glanced at Mariah, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

  "I don't remember adding you to this meeting."

  "Olt is standing right now because of Mariah," Rebecca stated flatly.

  Ganjo didn't respond, but a subtle shift in his expression showed he felt foolish.

  A slightly beat-up, but clean, SUV pulled into the parking lot. A younger woman, Chloe, in jeans and a leather jacket, got out, offering a casual wave. Her demeanor was surprisingly relaxed, almost cheerful.

  "Hey folks!" Chloe said, smiling brightly. "Veronica sent me to pick you up. Hop in! Traffic's a fucker as usual, and the boss is really eager to get started."

  Her cheerfulness felt unsettlingly out of place, adding to the overall unease.

  The SUV wound through the familiar streets around Ganjo's gym, then turned onto Avenue 1. The buildings became taller, more imposing, but also showed signs of age and neglect. Avenue 1 was a major thoroughfare. But as they drove, this section of the Avenue saw the neon signs flicker, and the crowds were thin out. A sense of faded glory and urban grit pervaded.

  Inside the SUV, Chloe made attempts at forced small talk.

  "So, Ganjo, Veronica tells me you practically built the underground fighting scene in Synoro. That's… intense! You must have some crazy stories."

  Chloe glanced at Rebecca.

  "You’re Rebecca, right? Veronica says you're like, royalty or something. No pressure, right?"

  She directed a bright, almost too-wide smile at Olt.

  "And you must be… Olt? Veronica's really excited to meet you."

  Her attempts at lighthearted banter felt forced and hollow. Perhaps some twisted demonstration of how much Veronica knew about them, but they knew so little about her.

  Mariah responded to Chloe's cheerfulness with strained, equally forced small talk, asking about traffic, the weather, and anything to avoid the real subject at hand.

  Rebecca remained mostly silent, answering Chloe's questions with curt, monosyllabic responses. She stared out the window. Her body language conveyed impatience and a desire to reach their destination.

  Ganjo offered curt, dismissive responses to Chloe's attempts at conversation, cutting her off with blunt statements or grunts. He clearly wanted to shut down the small talk and get to business.

  Olt remained silent, observing Chloe with a detached curiosity. He picked up on the forced cheerfulness, the underlying tension, and the subtle power dynamics at play. He was absorbing information, analyzing the situation, and preparing himself for whatever awaited them.

  The route was direct and efficient. Chloe drove with practiced ease through the city streets. No unnecessary turns or detours. The destination was clearly pre-determined, and Chloe knew exactly where she was going. The SUV turned onto a side street, pulling up to a seemingly unremarkable building.

  They pulled into a loading bay and stopped. Chloe gestured for them to get out. The warehouse exterior was nondescript, blending into the urban grit of Avenue 1. Inside, the space was a large, cavernous warehouse, retaining its industrial character, but with deliberate, unsettling modifications. Exposed pipes and beams crisscrossed the high ceiling. Worn concrete floors were swept clean but still stained and cracked. Lighting was dim, provided by strategically placed lanterns and flickering candles that casted long, dancing shadows. Plush, red velvet drapes were incongruously hung to soften the harsh brick walls, creating what appeared to be a makeshift courtroom area in the center. Ornate, antique chairs were placed on the concrete floor around a long, heavy wooden table that served as the judge's bench. Configured as a formal, if temporary, courtroom, its sparse furnishings did little to soften the inherent tension. Sunlight slanted through high windows, lending a strange solemnity to the proceedings.

  Veronica was already present, casually leaning against a support column near the makeshift courtroom, radiating a relaxed confidence that was more unsettling than overt formality. She was dressed in tailored trousers and a leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Her posture was loose, almost languid, but her eyes were focused, as she took in every detail of their arrival. She held a half-empty glass of amber liquid in her hand, swirling it slowly. Her demeanor was playful, almost amused, but there was an undercurrent of danger.

  Veronica pushed herself off the column, and walked towards them with a fluid, unhurried grace.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  "Welcome," she said. "Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable."

  Already present were several key figures. Near Veronica stood Fiona, her advocate's attire impeccably tailored. She had a calm, professional demeanor. Positioned somewhat awkwardly, where he could be easily seen, was Carl Winger. He was a stocky, middle-aged man whose thick build hinted at physical strength. He radiated discomfort, shifting his weight from foot to foot and studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone. Seated slightly apart was Lyona, the local Magistrate-Spiritus. Her face had weary lines. She held a quiet dignity, though concern shadowed her eyes.

  Veronica gestured gracefully towards the others as Rebecca and Ganjo moved further into the space. It became clear that there was no time for small talk.

  "Before we begin, allow me to introduce those who are already here."

  Her hand indicated the seated Magistrate-Spiritus.

  "This is Lyona, who represents the Parish community facing this difficult situation. Her presence underscores the gravity of the matter we are discussing. She is the defendant."

  Olt's eyes widened as he recognized the young lady. She glanced at him, and was just as surprised. They had met before. It was casual, and neither had expected to meet again under such circumstances.

  Next, Veronica gestured to the composed woman beside her.

  "And this is Fiona, the prosecutor who will be observing our proceedings today."

  Finally, Veronica looked at the nervous, bulky man.

  "And finally, Mr. Carl Winger."

  The introduction was brief, formal, offering no immediate context for his unease. Veronica paused, letting the introductions settle before briefly reiterating their purpose.

  "We are here for what might be termed a 'mock trial,' an exercise related to a genuine injustice affecting the community, and, importantly, an assessment of certain skills pertinent to handling such affairs."

  With the preliminaries concluded, Veronica's focus narrowed, landing squarely on Rebecca. The welcoming warmth receded, replaced by something more pointed, more challenging. Her smile tightened.

  "Ms. Santander," she began, her tone sharpening slightly, "Mr. Ganjo has assured me of your unique talents. Your persuasion as he delicately put it. But persuasion takes many forms, wouldn't you agree?"

  Veronica paused, her gaze lingered on Rebecca with unnerving intensity.

  "In Synoro," she continued, stepping slightly closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, "we understand that true power is not just about words. It's about influence and control."

  Veronica’s eyes held a spark of anticipation.

  "Mr. Ganjo tells me you are resourceful. That you can adapt. But can you command? Can you truly… compel… obedience?"

  The challenge was unmistakable. Rebecca met Veronica's eyes. She sensed the test. Stepping forward slightly, Rebecca accepted.

  "Persuasion is indeed multifaceted, Ms. Guzman," Rebecca replied with confidence, yet laced with an edge of steel. "And sometimes, the most effective argument is not spoken."

  With a suddenness that startled the room, Rebecca turned, her attention locking onto Carl Winger. The nervous man flinched under her direct gaze. Rebecca’s posture shifted, becoming taut, focused. A palpable tension radiated from her. She took a slow, deliberate breath.

  "Mr. Winger," she commanded, her voice clear and ringing with authority, "look at me."

  Startled by the sharp command and the abrupt shift, Carl instinctively obeyed. His eyes met Rebecca's.

  In that instant, the transformation was stunning and terrifying. Rebecca's eyes ignited. An intense, impossible crimson glow flared within her pupils. They sharpened into laser-like points of red light. The delicate network of veins around her eyes darkened, pulsing faintly with the same unnatural hue. The very air around her seemed to thrum, shimmering with incomprehensible energy.

  Carl Winger froze as if struck by lightning. His unease vaporized, replaced by stark, primal terror. His eyes bulged, widening in shock and horror. His mouth opened, stretching into a silent rictus. There was a scream trapped within his paralyzed throat. His body went rigid, as his muscles locked. Sweat beaded instantly on his forehead, tracing paths down his temples. He was utterly immobile.

  Rebecca held his terrified look for a long moment, the crimson inferno in her eyes unwavering. Her voice, when she spoke again, was resonant with power.

  "Relax, Mr. Winger or the discomfort won’t go away."

  As abruptly as she had initiated it, Rebecca broke eye contact. The crimson light vanished from her eyes, returning them to their normal hazel-green. The oppressive energy receded. Carl Winger crumpled, his paralysis shattering. He stumbled backward, gasping raggedly for air. His face was deathly pale and slick with sweat. He clutched at the nearby wall for support.

  Rebecca turned back to face Veronica, her expression now one of cool composure, as if nothing extraordinary had just occurred. "You took those words straight from the textbooks for Interrogation Gazing. I suppose you wanted a demonstration."

  A stunned silence held the room for a beat, broken only by Carl’s ragged breathing. Then, a slow, appreciative smile spread across Veronica’s face. Her eyes gleamed with admiration and distinct amusement. She brought her hands together in a soft, deliberate clap.

  "Impressive," Veronica said, her voice laced with genuine approval. "I’d expect no less from the late Oliver’s daughter. I confess, Mr. Ganjo understated your full skillset."

  Ganjo himself looked visibly surprised. His eyebrows arched high on his forehead. Awe crossed his features before he quickly composed himself. He exchanged a brief, knowing glance with Rebecca. There was a silent acknowledgment of a power he hadn't fully grasped. He knew Rebecca had the ability to use the Interrogation Gaze, but there was never a reason for him to see her use it.

  Fiona, the advocate, offered Rebecca a small, knowing smile. No shock registered on her face. There was merely a subtle nod of approval, suggesting she was either aware of Rebecca's capability or, at least, unsurprised by the existence and relevance of such power.

  Lyona simply stared, her mouth slightly agape. The raw display of power had clearly stunned her. She knew this would be applied on her soon enough.

  Olt, who had been observing quietly near Ganjo, finally spoke, turning to Rebecca. There was disbelief in his tone.

  "Rebecca… I… I didn't know you could do that. That you had…" He gestured vaguely towards her eyes, unable to fully articulate what he had just witnessed.

  Rebecca met Olt, her expression softening almost imperceptibly. A secretive smile played on her lips.

  "There are many things you don't know about me, Olt."

  She paused, and added with a touch of playful mystery, "And until now… you didn't need to know."

  Veronica let the reactions settle before stepping forward again.

  "Let's be honest," she said, addressing Rebecca and Olt, her eyes including Ganjo and Mariah. "Synoro is complicated. The official legal system… well, let's just say it has its limitations. And sometimes, justice requires unconventional methods. Especially when those running it, do not play fair. Ironically, there is no justice in Synoro’s justice system."

  She gestured around the makeshift courtroom.

  "This… mock trial… is, in part, a practical exercise. A way for me to assess your unconventional skills. Mr. Bartholomew, your advocacy."

  Her eyes flickered towards Rebecca.

  "Ms. Santander, your persuasion."

  She shot a knowing glance towards the still-shaken Carl Winger while directing her following statement to Ganjo.

  "And Mr. Joseph… well, your connections speak for themselves."

  Veronica’s expression became slightly more serious as she gestured towards Lyona.

  "But it's also more than just a test. Magistrate-Spiritus Lyona and her community are facing a genuine injustice. The official system will likely fail them."

  She looked over to Rebecca, Olt, and Ganjo again.

  "If you can prove to me that you can justify this woman’s case, then I hope to provide you with all the resources you need to bring real justice to this town."