12:19 AM — Ascension Gala, Third Floor — Shirley's POV
For several moments, silence filled the cell block.
The words Playing Cards lingered heavily between them.
Finally, Shirley spoke, "So what are they?"
Michonne leaned against the wall, "The most dangerous criminal organization in the world."
"…That's a bold statement," Shirley responded.
"It's an accurate one," Michonne answered. The seriousness in her voice immediately wiped the smile from Shirley's face.
Michonne continued.
"They operate between continents. Smuggling, assassinations, trafficking, information brokering. If something illegal exists, they've probably done it."
EBS frowned, "Wait… the Playing Cards?"
Michonne looked over, "You've heard of them?"
"Only rumors," EBS responded.
"Most people only hear rumors," Michonne said.
EBS folded her arms, "My viewers used to talk about them all the time. Fleet battles, kingdoms hunting them, stuff like that."
Michonne nodded, "Most of those rumors are true."
Shirley scratched his head, "Then why haven't I heard of them?"
Michonne raised an eyebrow, "Because you're like ten."
"I'm not ten, I'm twelve!" Shirley replied.
EBS snorted, trying not to laugh. Michonne shaked her head, "There are eight major members."
"Eight?" EBS asked.
Michonne nodded. "King. Queen. Ace. Club. Joker. Diamond. Spade. Hearts."
"Each one commands their own fleet," Michonne continued.
The joking immediately died.
"And each one is capable of threatening entire nations."
Silence, except for the occasional scream and begging from the nearby cells.
"…Seriously?" Shirley asked.
"Seriously."
Shirley looked down for a moment, then slowly back up, "And Diamond is one of them?"
"Yes."
"The Diamond?"
"Yes."
Before anyone could continue, a loud thud echoed through the third floor. The sound rolled through the darkness.
Everyone froze.
A second later another impact followed. Prisoners began whispering nervously.
Shirley's hand moved to one of his cleavers, EBS glanced around.
"What was that?" EBS asked.
Nobody answered. Far above them, metal groaned, then everything went silent again.
Michonne slowly looked upward, "…Something changed."
12:22 AM — Ascension Gala, First Floor: Entertainment District
The music never stopped.
Smooth jazz drifted through the Entertainment District as if nothing was wrong.
As if hundreds of people weren't collapsing.
Bodies littered the floor.
Some lay sprawled across gambling tables. Others slumped against walls or remained motionless beneath overturned chairs. Vomit stained expensive carpets. Drinks sat abandoned beside unconscious guests.
A few twitched, a few convulsed. Most didn't move at all. Yet somehow the party continued.
The handful of guests still standing staggered between bars and tables, too drunk to notice what surrounded them. Some laughed, some gambled. Some ordered another drink while stepping over unconscious bodies without a second thought.
Even many employees looked barely functional.
But two people stood untouched by the chaos.
August.
And the woman seated beside him.
She wore a black dress decorated with faint silver sparkles. A matching black hat rested atop her head, a dark rose pinned to its side while thin mesh partially obscured her face.
Her posture was flawless. She was elegant, controlled, beautiful.
August leaned comfortably against the private bar, swirling a drink in his hand.
"This is the fastest operation we've ever had."
The woman continued scrolling through her phone.
"What will you do with the kid?"
August didn't need clarification, "Ship him with the rest."
His expression didn't change, "Everyone here is for sale."
The woman finally glanced up, "That boy…"
August raised an eyebrow, "What about him?"
She stared at her screen for a moment, "Something about him bothers me."
A drunk guest stumbled into a nearby chair and collapsed onto it with a loud crash.
Neither of them acknowledged it.
The woman continued.
"When we were in your office, I watched him during the seizures."
August took another sip.
"And?"
"It felt like he was staring at me."
A small laugh escaped him, "He was unconscious."
"I know."
"Then that's impossible."
The woman slowly lowered her phone, "I know."
Uncertainty appeared in her voice, "But every time I looked at him…" Her eyes narrowed, "He reminded me of someone."
August shrugged.
"White hair isn't exactly rare."
"It isn't the hair."
"The eyes?"
She paused, "Maybe."
Silence settled between them. Then suddenly her expression changed. Her thumb stopped moving.
August noticed immediately.
"What?"
The woman stared at her screen.
For the first time all night, genuine surprise appeared on her face.
"…No way."
"What?"
She turned the phone toward him. A wanted poster filled the screen. Name: "TUCKER FETCHER RILEY"
August's smile disappeared, "A Riley?"
The woman nodded slowly, "Says here he previously owned a gambling network." She then continued, "What the hell kind of kid owns a gambling network?"
August wasn't listening anymore. His mind was elsewhere.
"A Riley." He thought.
Of all people.
The woman lowered the phone.
"You know what that means."
August stood. The movement was immediate, cold, decisive.
The attendants around him stepped aside without being told.
"Yes."
His voice had become noticeably quieter.
"If he's actually a Riley…"
His eyes drifted toward the upper floors of the plane.
"…then we have a problem."
The woman crossed her legs.
"A very large one."
August adjusted his cuffs.
"I'll handle it."
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
The woman watched him disappear into the crowd.
For the first time that evening, she wasn't looking at the unconscious passengers.
She was looking toward the ceiling.
And for the first time all night… she looked worried.
12:25 AM — Ascension Gala, Third Floor — Shirley's POV
Shirley kept one hand on his cleavers, eyes scanning the dark between the rows of cells.
Ready.
Waiting.
The silence didn't last.
EBS suddenly broke it. "We need to get out of here."
Michonne didn't even look at her. "No shit."
"Then let me out," she snapped. "So I can actually move."
Shirley exhaled. "We should move before guards come back."
EBS shook her head immediately. "We don't even know if we can trust her."
Michonne clicked her tongue. "You don't have a choice."
Shirley looked between them, then sighed. "We'll figure that out after. Right now, we need options."
Michonne leaned closer to the bars. "Let me out. You'll need me."
That settled it for Shirley.
"Fine."
Strength Presence flickered through his arms.
He stepped forward and drove both cleavers into the cage locks in a sharp X-shaped strike.
Metal screamed.
The bars split.
EBS flinched. "That actually worked?!"
Shirley didn't answer. He was already moving.
Next came the restraints. Michonne extended her wrists without hesitation.
"Your technique is awful," she said flatly. "You're cutting like a butcher."
Another strike. Metal snapped.
"It works," Shirley replied.
"Barely."
Chain after chain broke under his cleavers. The collar came next. A final twist, a clean cut, and it dropped to the floor.
Michonne rolled her shoulders once.
Then shook her head. "You shouldn't be doing it like that."
Shirley shrugged. "Noted."
She stepped fully out of the cell and flexed her fingers.
"Alright. You two, find light sources, anything useful. I'm getting my sword."
Shirley nodded. EBS followed a second later, still hesitant.
The moment they moved, the prison reacted.
Voices erupted.
"They got out!"
"FREE US!"
"HEY! OVER HERE!"
"LET US OUT!"
The noise surged through the corridors like a wave.
Shirley didn't look back.
Neither did EBS.
Michonne moved in the opposite direction, toward the weapons.
The prisoners grew louder with every step.
Banging. Screaming. Pleading. Swearing.
"LET US OUT!"
"LET US OUT!"
The chant spread until it filled everything.
EBS covered her ears slightly. "This is insane…"
Shirley kept walking. "Don't stop."
"They're people," she said.
"I know…"
They passed row after row of cells. Hundreds of faces. Some angry. Some begging. Some silent.
All of them trapped. All of them forgotten. Cargo.
EBS frowned as she glanced around. "Does it feel colder to you?"
Shirley didn't slow down. "I can't tell. Everything feels loud."
"Exactly," she muttered. "That's the problem."
The chanting behind them grew louder as they disappeared deeper into the darkness.
12:34 AM — Ascension Gala, Third Floor — Shirley's POV
They kept walking.
Past cell after cell.
The chanting followed them at first, violent, desperate, overlapping voices crashing into one another.
Then it changed. The anger faded, what replaced it was worse.
Begging. Prayers, broken promises shouted into the dark.
"Please."
"Let me out."
"I won't fight back."
"Someone… anyone…"
The sound no longer demanded.
It pleaded.
Shirley felt his jaw tighten as he walked.
EBS stopped covering her ears at some point. She just stared forward, quieter now.
Eventually, even the chanting began to thin.
Until there was almost nothing left at all.
Just scattered voices in the distance.
They reached the end of the corridor.
A strange structure was mounted into the wall.
Angular. Off, shaped like a broken triangle fused into metal.
Shirley squinted, "I can barely see it. Help me reach it."
He stretched his arm out.
EBS leaned forward slightly, then suddenly giggled.
Shirley turned his head. "Hey."
She tried to stop. Failed. "I don't know why that was funny."
Before Shirley could respond, a shadow dropped from above.
Michonne landed between them without warning.
EBS jolted back instantly. The giggle died in her throat. "Don't do that," she muttered.
Michonne ignored her.
She stepped forward, brushing past Shirley like he wasn't even there.
Her eyes locked onto the wall device.
"…There."
She pressed it.
A soft click echoed.
Then light.
One by one, rows of lights flickered on across the entire structure.
Left to right. Front to back. Like a factory awakening.
The darkness peeled away.
Cells, hundreds, then thousands.
Stacked in endless rows that stretched beyond what the eye could properly process.
Silence hit all at once.
Shirley froze.
His expression didn't change immediately. It couldn't.
EBS turned slowly. Then stopped completely.
"…What…"
Her voice barely came out.
Her knees gave out a second later. She dropped to the floor, staring upward at the endless cages.
People. So many people. Some staring back. Some curled up. Some still awake. Some not moving at all.
Michonne's hand tightened around her katana.
Her teeth clenched. Even she didn't speak.
Shirley finally exhaled, but it shook slightly.
EBS's eyes began to water without her noticing.
"…That's not… a prison…"
Her voice cracked.
"That's a storage unit."
No one corrected her. Because no one could.
All three of them stood there. Under the weight of it.
In front of what the Ascension Gala really was.
Cargo.