Curacao Meeting

["Raven"]

~~ VIP Area ~ Samson Resort ~ Planet Curacao ~~

Raven accepted the tablet with a polite nod, though he barely needed it. His eyes skimmed the menu out of habit more than necessity, old reflexes from briefings and manifests before settling on what already felt decided.

“Fried potatoes. Königsberger Klopse,” he said quietly, handing the tablet back to the butler. “Capers heavy. White sauce proper. And… cherry honey mead, if you have it.”

The butler inclined his head, already gone before Raven finished the sentence.

As the staff moved away, Raven took a moment to let the setting sink in. The open pavilion. Salt in the air. The low rhythm of waves rolling in and retreating again. It was almost disarming the kind of place designed to make people forget themselves. He didn’t. His gaze kept drifting, subtle and habitual, mapping sightlines, exits, the spacing between staff, the shimmer of the water beyond the lights. Even paradise had angles.

“Hidden showrooms that stay hidden,” Raven replied to Cait at last, his voice calm, approving. “That’s all we ever ask for. The less interesting something looks on a scanner, the longer it survives.”

He rested his forearms lightly on the table, fingers interlaced.

“Our people will adapt to your procedures. No uniforms. No patterns. Cargo moves as curiosities, not shipments. Anything sensitive stays compartmentalized until a buyer is confirmed.” A brief pause. “And if something ever draws attention it shouldn’t… it won’t lead back here.”

The drinks arrived first. Raven lifted the glass of cherry honey mead, the deep red catching the pavilion lights. He inhaled once..... sweet, sharp, familiar. For just a heartbeat, the years peeled back.

“Rheinland knew how to make winters bearable,” he said, almost to himself, then raised the glass slightly toward Stephanie. “And how to remind you what you were fighting for.”

He took a measured sip, then another, slower this time.

“When the Barbados showroom is ready,” Raven continued, business easing back into his tone, “we’ll seed it carefully. Relics first. Artifacts that invite curiosity. Azurite stays controlled...... information spreads faster than cargo.” His eyes flicked briefly to Cait. “If your R&D people find a use for it, we’ll expand supply. If not, it remains invitation only.”

The first plates began to arrive, steam rising into the warm night air. Raven watched the Königsberger Klopse set before him, the familiar scent grounding in a way he hadn’t expected.

“For now,” he said, settling back slightly, “we eat. Deals like this last longer when they start human.”

And as the waves rolled in again, Raven allowed himself this small luxury of the rare feeling that, for once, the ground beneath his feet was not swaying.