The weakened Namkhai, still affected by the gas, was being dragged by a special transport machine, accompanied by several guards. His arms and legs were tightly bound, and his head hung, swaying from side to side. The escort slowly moved down a long corridor, passing through the regular inmate block.

  This block held people who weren’t considered dangerous: petty thieves, debtors, and those waiting for trial. The atmosphere was much calmer than in the high-security area.

  Behind the bars of one of the cells sat the bandaged Captain Dinar. Next to him was his lady, Dana. She looked tired.

  Dinar lifted his head, and his eyes immediately caught a familiar figure. He recognized Namkhai, dragged past him, half-alive and chained. Something tightened in the captain’s chest.

  “Hang in there, kid” he whispered, barely audible. “Gather your strength. The real hell will start soon.”

  Dana turned to him, wary:

  “Dinar, what are you talking about?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He just watched the escort until the monk’s figure disappeared into the depths of the corridor.

  “My lady, when the chaos starts….. please, stay close to me.”

  _______

  A few hours earlier, Delilah, Arthur, Rul, Gentilheim, and several others from their group were sitting at a large table in their hideout. Their leader was at the head of the meeting — a luxurious blond man with long hair named Samson.

  “Hello everyone, glad to see you all in good health,” he said, spreading his arms dramatically. “I’m calling an urgent meeting of Group “Trash” to order. Before we get to the main topic…. does anyone have something to say to me?”

  “Can I say something?” asked a huge bearded cyclops in a leather jacket, raising his hand.

  “Oh, Darkblock!” Samson perked up. "Glad you finally managed to settle in with the team. Go ahead"

  “Can we change the name of our organization?” he exhaled. “Do you guys not vote on anything? Seriously…. I can’t even say it out loud to clients.”

  “Unfortunately, no. I came up with the name myself, and it’s perfect. It’s something we should carry with pride.”

  “Well. Fine, if the boss says so,” Darkblock muttered, giving up.

  Anyone else want to say something to me?”

  “Oh, stop it,” Rul waved him off. “Just say why you dragged us here.”

  Samson leaned back in his chair and smiled:

  “We’ve got a serious job coming up. The client wasn’t stingy at all.”

  Arthur leaned forward at once:

  “Who’s so generous? Did the clan finally notice us?”

  “No, it’s our old military friend.”

  “Oh no, not him… Dinar. What does he want this time?”

  “Just to attack one of the prison sectors in District Thirteen.”

  The room went quiet for a moment. Then Rul smirked with clear approval:

  “We’re going against the government? I like it.”

  “Not only that. The clan’s involved too, so don’t worry, Arthur, they’ll notice us. Very soon.”

  “And what does the clan want from Dinar?” someone in the group asked.

  “To kill a girl, Dana Anderson, the daughter of a crime boss.”

  The room filled with grunts and irritated whispers.

  “Someone ordered her from the clan?” Rul frowned. “Who’s the idiot behind that ?”

  Samson slowly raised his hand and casually pointed at himself:

  “That would be me.”

  For a split second, the room went silent. Delilah froze, staring at the leader in shock. Soon, voices rose one after another:

  “Why?!”

  “How do you even have connections with the clan?”

  “Why didn’t you talk to us first?”

  “Are you stupid?!”

  Samson harshly raised his hand, demanding silence.

  “Calm down, I’ll explain everything,” he said evenly. “My plan at the start was completely different. I didn’t expect the clan’s killer to attack right inside a building full of guards and Dinar’s mercenaries.”

  “Then tell us why you started this in the first place,” Arthur asked directly.

  “For publicity,” Samson replied without a hint of shame. “I already knew their whole route, where they would go. With that, it would’ve been easy to intercept everyone. I expected Dinar to call us for help. We knock out the clan’s killer, save the daughter of a very powerful boss, and we become famous in the mercenary world.”

  “And how did you even contact the clan?” someone interrupted.

  “A middleman. I’m not crazy enough to deal with them myself.”

  “So…” Rul said slowly, raising a brow. “You ordered the murder of a crime boss’s daughter from the most dangerous killer clan, so you could then beat their killer and heroically save the same daughter you ordered killed, just to show that our gang is worth something?”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Exactly!”

  The outburst of anger was instant.

  “And we trusted this idiot with our lives? Unbelievable…”

  “A complete moron…”

  “I actually like the boss’s plan,” Gentilheim said unexpectedly.

  Samson smiled calmly.

  The others were already throwing insults; some yelled, some waved their hands around. Delilah walked to the table, tore off a large sheet of paper, and, holding it up, showed Samson a message written in big childish letters: “YOU ARE AN IDIOT.”

  The room exploded with laughter and disgust, and even Samson’s face twitched into a faint smile.

  Once the noise died down, Samson returned to the topic.

  “Actually, things turned out even better than I expected. If we break into a government facility and pull out both Dinar and our target right from under their noses, the whole underground network will notice us. Our reputation will skyrocket.”

  “And we won’t have to fight the clan’s killers,” Arthur added. “Maybe we can even work with them later… maybe.”

  “But we will have to fight the government dogs,” said a small creature that looked like a mix between a bear and a fox. “And they’ll shoot us without asking any questions.”

  “Same thing, Papyrus,” Rul replied.

  “So, what’s the plan, boss?” she asked with clear skepticism. “I hope it’s not as brilliant as the last one.”

  Samson only smiled and threw a set of bone-like objects onto the table. They opened up, turning into a holographic map of the building.

  “The plan is standard. The team going out is: me, Rul, Gentilheim, Arthur, Darkblock, Pilgrim, and Delilah.”

  “What about me?” someone from the far corner protested.

  “I need a minimum team,” Samson said calmly. “For a clean and fast operation, I need their abilities. Alright, moving on to details. We start preparations now.”

  The meeting ended soon after. One by one, the members stood up and left through the hideout’s corridors. Delilah also headed toward the exit, but at the doorway she heard a quiet voice behind her:

  “Delilah. Got a minute?”

  She turned around. Samson stood by the table, writing something in his journal. Hearing her steps, he lifted his head and looked at her a bit more closely than usual.

  “I was told you helped Arthur and Rul with the prisoner’s ‘interrogation.’”

  Delilah raised a brow, took out her notebook, and quickly wrote:

  Is that a problem?

  “I know how you feel about those methods.”

  She closed the notebook, her gaze growing colder.

  “But you went against your principles for the sake of our group’s reputation…”

  Samson gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Delilah froze. Even through the thick cloak, mask, and glove, his touch felt warm. No one had touched her in a long time - she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

  “Thank you,” he said softly. “I already told them not to involve you in that again.”

  Her eyes warmed. She gave a short nod and pointed toward the door.

  “Leaving already?” Samson asked with a faint smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. That’s all I wanted to say.”

  Delilah left the room, and as she walked down the corridor, she absent-mindedly touched her shoulder, the spot where his hand had rested just moments ago.

  _______

  A crack of electricity. Phobos jerked, his chains rattling as they pulled tight. He was still hanging, arms spread, legs bound. Under the harsh light of the lamps, several prison workers and guards stood in front of him.

  “Better start talking, you piece of shit,” one of them said.

  “…..”

  “Who gave you the contract to kill?”

  “…..”

  “Was it the Clan? Or do you work alone?”

  “…..”

  The guard glanced at the man in the lab coat. He nodded silently. Another shock hit, and Phobos’s body shook from the current.

  “Talk. Who gave you the contract?”

  He stayed silent.

  “Sir, electricity is child’s play,” one of the guards said, grinning at Phobos. “I know methods that work much better…”

  “No need,” the senior guard cut him off. “When the head of Sector Thirteen gets here, he must not see any rough marks. The prisoner was dragged in from a fight already wounded.”

  He looked at the killer, and their eyes met. Phobos stared back confidently.

  “Use only electricity for now,” he continued. “Turn it up to the max if you want. He’s clearly a tough one.”

  A bang. A heavy thud.

  “AAAH!” Namkhai slammed his fist into the solitary cell door. The metal shuddered but didn’t break.

  “Damn, that’s solid…”

  “You won’t break it,” said a voice from the next cell. “Don’t even try.”

  Namkhai lifted his head, trying to understand where the voice was coming from. There was nothing in the cell except a narrow window in the door.

  “Who are you? You in a room like this too?”

  “In the next one. And you made a lot of noise, kid. Half the prison is running around because of you. What’s your problem?”

  “The problem is that I’m not supposed to be here! This is a mistake!”

  “Newbie, huh. Sorry to hear that.”

  “I don’t need your sympathy,” Namkhai snapped. “I saved a girl from a killer, I shouldn’t be locked up!”

  “Heh,” the stranger chuckled. “So you haven’t had your interrogation yet.”

  “Interrogation… Right! So….. is there a chance I can get out if I explain everything?”

  “A chance?” The voice grew more serious. “I don’t want to upset you, kid. But it’s easier for them to torture you and force a confession. Especially if you’re….. an Outsider.”

  “Outsider? I heard that word a couple of times. What does it mean?”

  “You really don’t know? Where did you crawl out from? Outsiders are people whose home world is long gone.”

  “You mean people from other worlds?” Namkhai stepped closer to the wall. “I saw a bus driver throw out a girl the other day… she looked like a hamster. Kinda ugly, but that’s no reason to treat her like trash. She didn’t even get to step inside.”

  “Well, she’s dumb. What can I say? People like us have our own buses.”

  “I heard they treat you weird, but this… this is insane. Why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

  “Hm…”

  “What’s that ‘hm’? Is that your answer?”

  “Kid, where the hell are you from?”

  “Me? I’m from a monastery outside the city. I lived there my whole life. So I didn’t really see what goes on here.”

  “Wait… you said monastery? You’re a monk?”

  “Why is everyone surprised I’m a monk? Are we an endangered species or something?”

  “Oh please. They don’t throw monks in prison.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m here.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Think pretending to be a monk will get you out? It’ll only make things worse.”

  “I’m not lying!” Namkhai raised his voice. “My name is Namkhai. I’m a monk. I’m 21. I literally left the monastery yesterday.”

  “And how many monks do you know who just leave like that? It’s peaceful there, why’d you leave?”

  “For money and fame,” Namkhai said calmly. “I got bored of the same old monk life. Every day the same thing. I wanted… something new. The city has lots of chances. Maybe I’ll even leave my mark in history!”

  The neighbor burst out laughing:

  “Ahahaha!”

  “What are you laughing at, you bastard?!” Namkhai roared, clenching his teeth.

  “If you really think anyone will believe that, you’re an idiot. You should work on your story.”

  “You just call me an idiot?” Namkhai snapped. “I’ll smash this door and your skull will be next!”

  “Heh, calm down, Namkhai. I’m just teasing you. Haven’t talked to anyone in a long time. And you’re interesting…”

  “Stop trying to sweet-talk me! It won’t save you!” Namkhai yelled and punched the door again.

  “Stop raging and save your strength. Maybe tell me how you ended up here from the very start?”

  Namkhai jabbed his thumb into his chest.

  “I’m not telling you a whole story! You insulted me, called me a liar, and now I’m supposed to entertain you?”

  “Kid, you need this as much as I do. From your voice and how you talk, I can tell you need to vent. You’re not used to staying quiet, even if you pretend. So talk while I’m interested.”

  “And why do you even want this?” Namkhai muttered.

  “In return I’ll give you some advice. Useless ones… probably. But it’s still better than punching the door.”

  Namkhai thought for a moment.

  “Well, if you think about it, he’s right… I can break the door, but then what? Might as well rest and learn something about this place,” he thought, spit on the floor, folded his arms, and began:

  “Fine… So. Basically…”