Music rang through his ears. It was calm, soothing, and felt hauntingly familiar—a melody he’d heard every night, yet he couldn't quite place the memory. Slowly, the music began to muffle, replaced by the harsh sound of arguments and yelling in the distance. The peace vanished, replaced by a sudden, stinging sadness that brought tears to his eyes.

  Something probed his face, then his cheek. Finally, a harsh light hit his eyelids.

  "Is he crying?" a voice asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

  "He’s probably a junkie," another replied dismissively. "They’ve been crawling all over the Republic since the war ended."

  "He seems a bit too well-dressed to be a junkie," the first speaker countered.

  "Oh, Martha. It’s the responsible ones who fell the hardest under this new regime." The second voice held a note of pity, though it was laced with envy for her naivety.

  "I’m sorry, sir," Fejiro groaned, his voice raspy as he forced his eyes open. "But as this beautiful lady pointed out, I am not a junkie."

  The two onlookers jumped back, visibly startled that the "corpse" on the roadside had suddenly regained consciousness.Miles away, Christian was leaning back in the driver's seat of his car, heading toward Olumo Rock.

  The Tracer Bird was still locked onto Leo. The Boxer had switched to an advanced tactical van—one of the fastest vehicles currently in production. If the bird hadn't been supercharged by the Nature Energy pill, it would have been left in the dust miles ago.

  Meanwhile, Kaelo moved through the backroads on the bike Christian had gifted him. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through his cracked ribs, reminding him of the gap between his ambition and his current strength. He wasn't heading straight home yet. He had a rendezvous with the Sponsor first.

  They had to finalize the plan for the rail-platform infiltration. This time, there would be no "draws."

  Kaelo arrived at the location first. He parked the bike just outside the neon-drenched nightclub the Sponsor had designated as their rendezvous point. As he walked toward the entrance, he noticed the bouncers barely glanced at him. A few months ago, they might have stopped him for looking like a stray; now, he carried a weight in his stride. He had added several kilograms of pure muscle, and his demeanor was no longer that of a victim, but of a predator in repose.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Inside, the bass from the speakers thrummed through his cracked ribs. He moved through the crowd calmly, eyes scanning for anyone watching him. He wanted to be the one to spot the Sponsor first—he was tired of surprises.

  Distracted by a flicker of movement in the VIP section, he bumped into a figure moving in the opposite direction. There was a sharp crash as glasses hit the floor, shattered, and were instantly forgotten by the dancing crowd.

  "You really should watch your step," a voice grumbled.

  "I'm so—" Kaelo stopped mid-apology. He recognized that voice. "Ahmed!"

  "Kaelo?" Ahmed’s eyes went wide with disbelief. "Oh my God! I’ve missed you, brother!"

  The statement was punctuated by a massive, bone-crushing hug. Kaelo’s ribs and his heart both screamed, though for very different reasons. For a moment, the cold, calculated "Asset" vanished, replaced by the boy from the warehouse.

  "You'll rumple my suit, Ahmed," Kaelo joked, gently disentangling himself as his professional mask slid back into place.

  "Then I'll give you mine!" Ahmed laughed, stepping back to inspect him. "Look at you. You’ve grown taller, broader. What have you been doing, street fighting?"

  "Something like that," Kaelo replied coolly.

  Ahmed dragged him to a seat at the bar. "Two tequilas, and keep the lime coming!" he shouted to the bartender. He turned back to Kaelo, leaning in. "It’s been ages, man. You never call."

  "I’ve been busy. And you know these drinks are expensive, right? Since when do you have tequila money?"

  "Well, my girlfriend has helped my financial situation a bit," Ahmed said with a wink. "But what are you doing here, really? This isn't exactly your scene."

  "Can't a man come to a club to party?"

  "Not a man like you. And not with the way you were prowling around this room like you were looking for a target," Ahmed countered, his smile fading into curiosity.

  "Fine. You caught me. I’m here for a meeting." Kaelo resolved not to say a word more.

  "I see you’ve already met him, Ahmed."

  A feminine voice, sharp and authoritative, cut through the music. A woman stood behind them, dressed in a sharp blazer that cost more than the tactical van Leo had escaped in.

  "Hello, Kaelo. I’m the lady you’re here for."

  Ahmed and Kaelo both spat out their drinks in a synchronized spray of tequila.

  "You’re the Sponsor?!" Kaelo gasped.

  "You’re the Asset?!" Ahmed shouted at Kaelo, his jaw hitting the bar.

  "And I’m Annie," the woman said calmly, ignoring the mess on the counter. She checked her watch, her eyes turning flinty. "Now, let’s get this meeting started. The world is counting on it, and we're burning daylight."