The color red is one primary color that is in many a neon tube that glows in the streets of Amsterdam. Its streets filled with quite literally, a bit of everything. The drugs, the sex, the clubs and the gangs were all parts of their own separate scenes. However, outside the city, one would be able to see beautiful forests and centuries old castles. The dull red glow that came out of a certain castle was one that scared away many a tourist or trouble maker. The glow of red emanated from nearly every window except in the late hours of the night, and the early hours of the morning, where only a handful of such lights would be on. Past the beautiful gothic architecture and the modern twist of the red neon lights that accented the moat around the castle, the fountains at each corner, and in the windows, one would find another shocking, modern twist. The floors were constantly shined and a sharp obsidian color made up the hallways. In the front lobby where secretaries wore dark blue, revealing ‘suits’ and the lower-grade employee’s wore their turquoise uniforms, men awaited their meetings with cold drinks or hot coffee. They debated about the stocks; they debated about their wives, children, their cars. People came and left in flashy sports cars, limos, or simple sedans. For a castle, it bustled.

For the Tsunami Syndicate, it meant money. From his window, the head of the organization stared out and towards the skyline of Amsterdam, barely visible past the trees that were in the back areas of the castle grounds. Bishop turned his head, locks of his dirty blond hair covering his facial features. His piercing turquoise eyes stared at the door that made a sudden knocking sound. His uniform, unlike the ones of the more ‘public’ area of the castle, was all black with a gentle crimson trim. The scorpion’s tail was pinned on his left side of his collar, and small custom scorpion tail cufflinks were attached to his wrists. His suit was far from the standard ‘officers’ attire, as it seemed more professional and less militaristic.

“Come in.” Bishop stated. His voice was young, enthusiastic, but loud. It demanded and commanded the presence in the room that it was in- no matter which room. The door opened and his placid gaze and thin lips gave way to turn upwards at the corners- a small smile. He turned his entire body to face the door, his hands still tightly holding each other behind his back. “Top of the evening, Brother Lieutenant.”
The young lady that entered the room shut the door behind her with her right foot, her high heel gently pressing against the old, polished oak and shutting the door with a gentle click. Her left hand came up to push her spectacles up her nose before looking up to her commanding officer. Her hair was rather short for a young lady, with a splash of bright blond hair dye to give her a modern look that accented her beautiful facial features. The posture however, is what Bishop admired. She came into every room in a professional and tidy manner, and it reminded him every time as to why he hired her. She walked forward with a certain level of grace, and held out the small clipboard in her right hand. Bishop looked down and as he did took in the Brother Lieutenant’s uniform. A short, obsidian black skirt and black stockings made up her lower body. His eyes skipped up her black top, which was a short sleeved dress shirt. Pinned just above her left breast was the scorpion’s tail, and again on her left collar. Bishop gripped the clipboard, and with his thumb and index finger spun it to face him.

“The list for tonight?” Bishop asked, his eyes darting over the written information as his right hand pushed up his own spectacles.

“It most certainly is.” The Brother Lieutenant replied. “They will be here in roughly an hour, the cliental list for tonight has been filled out already- we’re booked for the next month.” Her voice was young, which matched her young looks. She couldn’t be more than twenty years old. She stood at nearly the exact same height as her commanding officer, and so they stared at each other eye to eye. He returned the clip board with a nod.

“Excellent work. Begin the monetary transfer for the last month’s profits to the Sarajevo account before our brothers arrive, understood Celeste?”

“Already underway, I checked off on it myself before entering this wing. The financial area is doing its job with much more precision since the last… Show of authority.”

Bishop entered the large room filled with long, thin desks filled with laptops and row after row of desktop computers. With his CZ-75 selective fire pistol drawn, the obsidian paint flashing in the artificial light of the room, he gave a quick shout.
“Atchung!” He yelled. The men piloting the computers turned. Some were barely fifteen years of age; others were showing balding heads and graying, thinning hair. “This department has, over the last several months, lost its set efficiency. I wanted this place worked twenty four hours, seven days a week. We have lost over 3 minutes in our transfer timing- it was crystal clear and set as stone those three months ago, it was done at Twelve AM local time. It is now being done as late as twelve o’ SIX.” He twirled the gun, placed it to the back of a teenage boy’s head. His acne was apparent, a smoke in his mouth, and a shocked look on his face that Brother Commander Bishop saw only due to the reflection in the flat-screen monitor. He pulled back the hammer, and without hesitation pulled the trigger. As he stared blankly forward- he could feel the flecks of blood coat his cuff, the monitor, and the desk. He holstered the pistol, and his thumb turned off a small black object that was projecting the digital Bluetooth keyboard. “Twelve AM. No later, and not before.”

Bishop grinned. “No need to remind me, Brother Lieutenant. It wasn’t fun. Time to man your post outside that door, Celeste. If I need you I’ll call for you- ring me when the Brother General arrives.”

“Yes, Brother-Commander.” Celeste bowed her head gently before pivoting on her foot, opening the oak door, and closing it behind her gently. Bishop spun back around to catch a glimpse of the skyline. Staring upwards, away from the distant city lights, he picked out familiar and foreign stars. His hand gently pushed open the window- the leather glove pressing up against the bullet proof glass. He took in a breath of slightly chilled summer air, and gave a sigh. “Tsunami… Our business…”

“…Is your pleasure.” The young woman said at the reception desk. “May I help you?”

“Appointment, Brother Bishop- now.” The voice was stern, also youthful. “He prides himself on his timing. Show me that you do as well.”

“Of course sir.” The young woman said with a soft smile. Her fingers pressed against the holographic keys that brought up the holographic monitor. She turned it to show to the man on the other side of the desk. “That room, twenty minutes time to the dot. Would you like a coffee or perhaps something else?”

“No, thank you. We will be in the room.” The owner of the voice took off his black beret, his thumb pressing up to, and stroking, the scorpion’s tail pinned on it. “I certainly hope the Brother Commander doesn’t keep us waiting.