On a flight to an island off the South Pacific, there was a man onboard flying coach by his lonesome, arriving approximately around 9am to the land dubbed E-Dubz, the plane safely landing in the airport. It wasn't this man's first time coming back from a flight between Japan and E-Dubz, rather his second time coming back to the crime ridden city. The plane had made its descent, now the crooked man leaving ten minutes after into a hallway, he walked before stopping to look outside a window as if it were his first time being there, gazing at all of central with an eyeful of wanderlust. 'Sublime beauty.' were the words Varga would use to describe E-Dubz if anyone asked, moving on after eight seconds to go through customs, wielding a brown briefcase with his clothes inside, exiting the airport after he was done being searched to find his ride waiting for him; a young Japanese man who had been standing outside the entrance of E-Dubz wielding a sign that read, "Mister Varga" in a c

rowd full of other drivers holding signs. Varga's driver looking like your average rich college kid, airpods on, a red varsity jacket, and black timbs on his feet, not so obvious that he was Mister Varga's chauffeur and also an employee of his crooked company called Narwhal, a mere coverup for what Varga has cooking up for the city. They didn't greet each other either, let alone say a word, only a bow of both men's heads was made as greetings; a custom in Japan's culture, and then they were off in a rx 350 black lexus, cruising through the highways of the spacious land, Varga remained in the backseat with windows tinted, as well as the front side-windows being tinted of course to hide them from any prying eyes. Everyone was going to work at that time and hour, Varga being able to beat traffic just in the nick of time before the streets and highways became jammed with cars, his driver knowing exactly where he was taking him, being born and raised here, he drove the two up northw

est through a highway before exiting off into an undisclosed location where there sat a semi-truck with a driver inside who you guessed it, was waiting for Varga. The parking lot was vacant said for the only two vehicles in it now, the black lexus parking in front of the semi, and the right side passenger's door opening upon their arrival. The man inside the truck looked down at him and automatically recognized Mister Varga as his boss, leaving the truck, and dropping down; a very tall Serbian man dressed similar to Varga's chauffeur. "Zdravo." They both said to each other, Varga respected those he employed and that showed by his mannerism, now that's just bad business if you don't treat your employees correctly. Varga walked a crooked step with the Serbian and Japanese to the back of the truck, and the tall Serbian man moved to the backdoors to open the hatch with a twist and turn, and voila, revealing his base, his space, and Varga's true base of operation. The two men followi

ng in after Varga stepped up the metal frame-steps to get inside the cave of the wolf, there were several light bulbs attached to the ceiling, two bunk beds on the left next to a bathroom that had walls made of wood around it and a thin door, at least a meter in space, and in the far back was a room full of file cabinets, an office desk with a laptop lamp, and printer on top, and an upgraded version of a stingray sitting around on the desk; an IMSI-catcher, attached to a bunch of cords, and other computer screens like a secret lair to a super-hacker. Unfortunately, Varga was not that skilled to be anywhere close to a cyber criminal, these were all bought equipment he used to tap people's phones, and find their locations, or if to alarm him whenever his company's name or himself were being searched online via a search engine. On the front of Varga's desk was a picture of Joseph Stalin, it wasn't a secret that the banker was a redwing communist, and held onto those beliefs so deeply into

his work. What were you expecting from Varga? An underground lab, or a building that he bought? He wasn't exactly the type that liked showing off his power and wealth through squandering extravagance or luxury, despite looking so young, beneath that facade was an old man with a very old soul that dated back since WW1; the Silent Generation. Although physically he took the form of a 27 year old man, it was a secret to everyone around him that he was ancient, and a direct descendant of the first lycanthropes. There he began his work on the laptop that was connected to the stingray and other screens by a cord, his embarkment on a journey for information on the residents of E-Dubz, specifically the club. He was even anonymous online, silent like any predator trying to find prey in the Savannah Jungle, the first place he did search up was the Moon's Curse Nightclub, a club he's visited on his first trek in E-Dubz, the owner's name coming up, along with any members in the system, said for a
  	said for any that weren't listed, but the ones that had been used as proxies. He spent at least an hour or two in that semi, an air vent carrying cold air in so he wouldn't die from heatstroke, his men were off running errands of their own while he was busy doing his thing, "Mutt." The name popped up, all money left paper trails, and legitimizing your business meant endorsements. There were no pictures but the name did interest him because he couldn't find their real name anywhere on the site, "A name without a face." He mumbled to himself and smirked before closing his laptop, he found all that he needed for the moment, unknowingly Varga was building a portfolio for everyone involved with the club and the people living in E-Dubz, personal information wasn't very hard to find on commoners, and especially if you wer

e as affluent as him with the money to buy cutting edge technology at your disposal. He picked his front incisors and his stomach began to rumble, seems it would be the time for him to go take another visit to this club, and see what he could gather. It wouldn't have been smart to send his lawyer first without firstly introducing himself to the club owner, but beneath his desire to explore there were sinister intentions lurking underneath with a diabolical plan in mind. He left the truck to find the Serbian gentleman back with his Japanese chauffeur, "Yuri and Fuji. I want you both to find these people and give me their home addresses." He handed both men two separate pieces of paper with the names and smiled. The men didn't say anything, they'd just both nod with a look of seriousness in their eyes, like they were his

dogs and he was about to throw them a ball to catch. "Also, Fuji, take me to the Moon again, I'm hungry and in a chatty mood today." He wasn't simply just telling them what to do, these were orders, and they followed without a word, soldiers they were, and more. Fuji and Yuri both assumed shotgun while Varga took to the back and they left in the black sedan, after an hour of driving, Varga met his location when Fuji pulled up. "We're here, boss." Fuji said with an American accent, seemed he was both fluent in Japanese and English. "Good." Varga replied and left the two soldiers, they'd both watched him go into the building before driving off like a duo, leaving Mister Varga to his own whims. He walked into the club's doors and saw the flashing neon lights, the crowds of party goers dancing to music, booths

for those who wanted to order food, and a place that he wanted to buy. "Mmm... teens these days." He said to himself while he sauntered to a table, taking a seat, a waitress meeting him as he sat down. He ordered in Japanese, being able to speak almost twelve different languages had come with its privileges, being able to easily get by in most foreign lands if the people saw that you were smart, and multilingual. After over forty minutes or so of waiting he was brought a dish of Shabu Shabu; Japanese hot pot, and was served with chopsticks, he grinned and licked his lips before telling his waitress thank you, picking up the chopsticks and beginning his ravenous devouring of steamed noodles, meat, tofu, and vegetables, eating much like a cavernous wolf when it found a deer. Now this was what he enjoyed the most, eating.