- Sometimes it’s better to look stupid, than open your mouth and prove it.

  - Being calm and silent gets you more info than being chatty.

  - Stranger danger. Especially if the stranger is jacked, covered in scars, and just single-handedly kidnapped both of you.

  ---

  The plan was simple.

  Sneak into the outpost when the bandits rotated shifts. Get in. Grab some supplies. Make a map of the place. Get out. No noise. No fuss.

  It went wrong at the “sneak in” part.

  One second I was creeping through a half-cracked window, the next—BAM—black bag over my head, pressure on my spine, something cold pressed to my ribs. Not a gun. A knife. Somehow worse.

  When I came to, I was tied to a chair in some derelict warehouse or garage. Smelled like oil and bad memories, like the Overhaul's entrance, but worse. My wrists were zip-tied behind my back. Not rope. Zip ties. The guy meant business.

  Then I heard it. Another muffled noise. A door creaking. The bag over my head was taken off.

  And I saw Alex. Gagged, wide-eyed, being shoved into a second chair.

  I guess it’s impossible to kidnap two people at the same time if you’re alone—but this guy? He figured it out anyway. One at a time. Like a twisted Pokémon collector: gotta bag 'em all.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  And then he stepped into the light.

  Tall. Built like a brick wall. Military posture. Cold stare. Messy hair. His facial hair looked like it didn't know what a razor is. Weathered face. Gear that didn’t clank when he walked. He was quiet. Too quiet.

  "Name's Gail," he said, voice low and level. "Short for Abigail. Yes, it's weird. No, you don't get to comment."

  Okay.

  Noted.

  Gail crossed his arms. “Now. One of you speak. The other shuts up. If both of you talk, I pick who dies first.” he says while taking off Alex's gag.

  I looked at Alex. She looked at me.

  Neither of us said a damn thing.

  Smart.

  He raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “Good. You're not idiots. Maybe.”

  He paced in front of us slowly, like a cat deciding whether the thing it caught is food or a toy.

  “I’ve been watching that bandit compound,” he said. “Twenty-plus scumbags. Play at being soldiers. Burn what they can't steal. Kill anyone who gets in their way.”

  He stopped. Glanced at me. “You were there today. Sneaking in, with her. Planning something?"

  I said nothing.

  He smiled—barely. Just the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t comforting.

  “Silent type. Smart. Or scared. Either works.”

  He turned to Alex. “And you. You’re twitchy.”

  Alex blinked, tense and stiff like a deer in a spotlight.

  Gail leaned in. “But you're together. So you're either brave, stupid, or desperate.”

  Still, no words.

  Eventually, Gail pulled up a chair. Sat across from us. Leaned his elbows on his knees like we were just having coffee in hell.

  “I want those bandits gone. Every single one. But I don’t waste bullets, and I don’t work with liabilities.”

  He looked at me again. “So. If I cut you loose... do you talk? Or do you shut up and listen?”

  I opened my mouth.

  Closed it again.

  Then nodded.

  Another almost-smile. “Good answer.”

  He stood and cut Alex’s restraints first. Then mine. We rubbed our wrists in silence.

  He pointed to a small duffel bag by the door. “Food. Water. First aid. You’ll need it.”

  We didn’t move.

  He added, “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have used chairs.”

  Fair point.

  We grabbed the bag.

  As we stepped out into the night air again, Gail’s voice followed us.

  “Come back tomorrow. If you still want in. I'll learn your names when you come back.”

  Once we were far enough, Alex exhaled. “What the hell was that?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I think we just got recruited.”