Seven figures sit in a circle around a wooden chair. Black Mercury gang members, faces hard as stone.

  “Spike,” Jacob—the spiky-haired boss— with the code name Alligator calls, his voice low. “What did you gather on Silas?”

  “Boss, the guy’s a ghost. Spies, informants—nothing. No one knows where he hides.”

  The Alligator nods slowly. “K.B., your take on this town?”

  “Corruption runs it. Power-hungry men. Male-dominated. Rape and assault? Legal here,” K.B. replies.

  The Alligator clenches his jaw. “So… if I wanted information from these meatheads, how would I get it?”

  “Send a woman,” K.B. says without hesitation.

  The Alligator raises an eyebrow. “Explain.”

  “Men here are driven by lust. An attractive woman draws them in—makes them talk.”

  “But they’d try to take advantage of her instead.”

  “Not if she beats them into submission. In the shadowed cloak of a lonely space, men don’t place trust in a fellow man. But a woman offering herself? Different story.”

  The Alligator leans back, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “Clever. Shion.”

  “Boss.”

  “Go into town. Gather everything you can on Silas’s whereabouts. You have twenty-four hours. Report back tomorrow night. Don’t fail me.”

  “Roger.”

  Shion walks the streets, mind racing. Her radiant blue eyes shine through the night. She calculates. Bars, casinos—start there. Change clothes? Wear something tight to gain attraction? No. Not happening.

  Her head smacks into a pole. Her hat tumbles off, landing with a soft thud.

  “Ouch.” She rubs her forehead, scoops up the hat, and puts it back on.

  A newspaper flutters against a wall:

  JOB EMPLOYMENT – HITMAN NEEDED.

  RETRIEVE 16-YEAR-OLD ANNA, ABDUCTED BY UNKNOWN MEN.

  REWARD: 80 MILLION.

  INQUIRIES AT RICHVILL’S PACK, 7 PM.

  “Eighty million?” Shion murmurs. “Huge. Bet Silas’s men took her. Perfect opportunity.”

  She stops a passerby. “Excuse me—where’s Richvill’s Pack?”

  The man smiles. “Straight down that road, turn left at Street Six, you’ll see a field, just—”

  Shion vanishes mid-sentence.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  The man blinks his eyes. “Huh?”

  Shion lands in an empty field. “Am I late?”

  A man slips behind her, throwing a punch. Shion sidesteps; his fist cuts air.

  He spins, shocked.

  “Who are you?” Shion asks coolly.

  The man grins. “Host and manager of this little search party. Here for the job?”

  “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Right in front of you.”

  Figures advance ahead. Seconds later, more emerge from every direction.

  The manager claps. “Good turnout." He signals, a girl approaches from the shadows

  "count them," he says.

  “Twenty-five. Sixteen women, nine men," the girl says.

  “Take over," he says to the girl.

  The manager walks away.

  The girl faces the crowd. “Quick briefing. We located the kidnappers’ hideout—five fortified divisions. Teams of five. You have minutes to group up—”

  “Wait a damn minute,” a gray-bearded man interrupts. “Thought we were retrieving a girl and getting paid. Not storming fortresses.”

  “If you’d let me finish—”

  “Shut it, woman. I don’t take orders from chicks.”

  Laughter ripples through the men.

  The girl stiffens. “Just let me—”

  “I said shut up!”

  Shion’s voice cuts through the air like a blade. “You’d understand if you let the lady finish, moron.”

  Silence drops.

  The gray-bearded man snarls. “Who said that?”

  “I did.” Shion steps forward, eyes cold. “Let her speak, fool.”

  He chuckles. “Oh, another mouthy chick—”

  “Pigs return to mud no matter how they dress. You reek of booze. Your type dies first in missions,” Shion says calmly.

  Laughter erupts again.

  The gray-bearded man charges.

  Shion’s counterpunch is invisible—too fast. He collapses unconscious.

  Dead quiet.

  Shion turns to the girl. “Now that the insect’s down… please continue.”

  The girl hides a smirk. “Teams of five. Start grouping. I’ll return when you’re ready.”

  The crowd begins forming teams.

  Shion stands apart, unmoving.

  A young lady approaches, hands folded. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  “What?” Shion replies.

  “My name is Patience. May I join your team?”

  “Fine.”

  Patience bows. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  A boy steps forward. “Hey, lady… can I join you two?”

  Shion studies him. “Hope you’ll behave?”

  The boy smiles. “Of course.”

  “Fine.”

  “We’re just standing here,” he says. “Better find more people.”

  Shion remains still, eyes fixed ahead.

  “Oh—sorry. My name’s Eli.” He offers a hand.

  “We don’t need many people. Three is enough,” Shion replies.

  “Lady… that confidence will get you killed. We should find stronger people—”

  “Stop talking,” Shion cuts in. “If you want to leave, leave.”

  Eli’s jaw drops. “Ah…”

  Nearby, a man in a sky-blue shirt and gold chain speaks to the manager. “Hope you gathered the perfect rats for the boss?”

  The manager smiles. “Twenty-five this time. King Pin will be pleased.”

  “He asked for women. Orders are clear—sex slaves needed.”

  “Women outnumber the men,” the manager replies.

  Minutes later, the girl returns. “Teams are set. Let’s proceed.”

  Maps are handed out.

  Eli studies theirs. “We’re sent to Rudy Street.”

  “The map shows a red-marked building,” Patience says.

  “Then we move,” Shion replies.

  They race through the streets, then into thick jungle. The warehouse rises ahead—four stories, dull white, boarded windows, dead floodlights. No guards.

  Eli whispers, “No guards… that’s good, right?”

  Shion crouches, fingers brushing dirt. She inhales. “Over twenty footprints. All leading in. None out.”

  “How do you know?” Eli asks.

  “We go inside.”

  Eli stiffens. “That’s suicide.”

  Shion turns to Patience. “Coming?”

  Patience nods.

  Shion walks straight to the entrance. Patience follows.

  “…Guess I have no choice,” Eli mutters, trailing behind.

  The door bursts open. Darkness. Silence.

  They climb the stairs.

  “The men are on the top floor,” Shion says quietly.

  They reach the final door.

  “Let’s plan—” Eli starts.

  Shion kicks the door open and steps inside.

  Guns click.

  “Andrew, don’t,” a man says.

  “But Mr. Bobby—”

  “Shut it.”

  Bobby smiles. “Shion… good of you to join us.”

  “No one is worthy of calling me by that name,” she replies.

  Bobby laughs softly. “Fair enough.”

  Eli and Patience enter cautiously.

  “Tell me, Bobby. Where can I find Silas?”

  Bobby exhales. “Even we don’t know. But I can point you to King Pin.”

  “And how?”

  Bobby gestures behind her. “That’s King Pin’s boy—Eli. He’s a spy.”