A few moments after regaining consciousness, Rainer had wondered where his clothes were and who had taken them.
Due to his rapid healing after his descent/transmigration, his initial wounds had vanished.
He had expected questions about his bullet-riddled, bloodstained clothing that contrasted with his unmarred skin, but no one asked.
This silence was both a relief and a worry.
Over time, he had connected the dots to Aegates, his rescuer. She definitely knew something she shouldn't and was keeping it to herself.
A small smile graced his lips, then he slowly took off his hat, twirling it on a finger.
"I swore an oath on this hat, you know?" he gently reminded her.
Aegates' gaze intensified, even as uncertainty swirled beneath its surface.
"Did you swear, though?" she pushed, her earnest desire to know frazzling at the edges of her tone.
Rainer blinked, and his twirling stopped.
"Aegates!"
Man could no longer remain quiet, and he sat up, looking at her with pure befuddlement.
"What the hell are you doing?! How could you even ask—"
Aegates looked away, quietly prepared to accept the scolding. But Rainer put his hat back on and interrupted.
"Mr. Man, please." He gestured for calm, his eyes locked on Aegates.
"I want us to understand each other here. I'm being sent on a suicide mission to wreck a gangster's hive... I could die there, and I'm not complaining. Yet, my loyalty is being questioned?"
He scoffed at the ridiculousness of the situation.
"My memory's been hazy since the attack, you know. With busting my head through glass and all, but was this how the organization functioned?"
Aegates frowned slightly, refusing to meet his eyes. But Man fell back onto his couch with an exhausted sigh.
"Of course not." He defended, running a hand over his face.
"Look, I don't know what's gotten into her. But we apparently need to talk. This meeting's over. You two, get some rest and prepare for our call."
At those words, they both stood and adjusted their hats on their heads.
Rommel turned and walked out, disgruntled. But Rainer paused and looked at her until Aegates glanced up. Then he consoled:
"Take it easy, ma'am. I'm friendly, alright?" He winked.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and coolly left, the door left open behind him.
Man groaned. "Damned brats. They didn't even shut the door!"
He stood to shut it while Aegates sat still, a thoughtful frown on her face.
"Friendly... It said," she whispered to herself, eyes hooded.
—❦—
Elsewhere, Rainer and Rommel strode down the street, past a hotdog stand exuding a greasy, delicious aroma. Rainer looked back longingly while Rommel brooded, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"Fuck it. Perhaps we should run away after all," he suddenly muttered.
At once, Rainer's head snapped toward him, a triumphant smile spreading.
"Aha! I knew you were interested in the Penis Enlargement idea! Hear this, I know what to name our company."
He wrapped an arm around Rommel's shoulders, waving his free hand in the air like the words would appear.
"It shall be called, 'The Phalanx!' Nice, righ—Bleugh!"
Rommel shoved his face away.
"I'm not interested in that shit!" he yelled, then looked away, his expression shadowed by a deeper worry.
"I think the organization wants to replace us."
Rainer rubbed his cheek, surprised.
"Replace?! How did you come to that?"
Rommel sighed. "Think about it. We were the organization's enforcers. We have a lot of blood on our hands... I think they sent us to this damned city to be killed off!"
Rainer scratched his chin. "What's your logic here?"
He found the theory plausible but wanted the full picture.
"The organization recently purchased a security company. They've been assimilating ex-military and police en masse these past few months."
Rainer's expression morphed into a grimace as he connected the dots. A cleaner, more professional force to replace the old, bloody-handed ones with a lot of dirt.
"You think the GBGs are behind the Beach Boys' successful attack? That they let the cafe get hit?"
Rommel held his words, but his locked-jawed frown was agreement enough.
Immediately, Rainer smacked him across the shoulder and laughed. "Damn! What a mood. Don't go saying things like that, bucko!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then wrapped an arm back around him, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Listen. Even if that's true, it means they won't kill us outright. It just means we have to prove that we're indispensable."
Rommel's eyes twitched. "And how do we do that?"
"Easy. We slaughter as many Beach Boys as possible, then leave."
"That—"
"Rommel, hold on. Just listen. Man and Aegates both think we'll die in there. I saw it in their eyes. Simply surviving after wreaking enough havoc will be a statement. As for replacement..."
He licked his lips and said.
"Capo Breaker's position is empty, so they shouldn't bother much if there's only two capable initiates left of his. They can let the clean, professional Capo they choose take over, then we'll simply get absorbed into a new team. Got it?"
Rommel looked away, removing Rainer's arm from his shoulders.
"Yeah. I guess," he said, dissatisfaction still lining his voice.
"Good!" Rainer smiled, pleased with himself.
His eyes then wandered over the residential area.
"Say, you got a place to rest? I'm still not fully recovered yet."
Rommel nodded in a specific direction. "Yeah. I rented a hotel room yesterday. We can use it till tomorrow."
Rainer perked up.
"Oh! Is it fancy?!" His eyes gleamed.
Rommel's mouth twitched at a memory.
"I got it for cheaps. If there's a silver lining—I haven't found any rats. Yet."
Rainer stared at him and blinked.
"Well, that's reassuring."
—❦—
The docks...
*Drip!* *Drip!*
Water constantly fell from a leaking pipe into a growing puddle on the floor. The sounds, like a countdown till doom, echoed in the dark, cramped room.
*Drip!*
A hazy figure crouched in the corner, back to the wall, arms folded around knees as their long hair veiling her head. The only light was the intermittent crimson pulse of a ship's warning lamp from a high, grimy window.
*Clank* *Crrrnk!*
The metal door ahead suddenly grated open, and bright torchlights streamed in, illuminating the decay.
With accompanying dark chuckles, two men in garish beachwear entered, beams fixed on the figure. Their light revealed a young girl, seemingly in her late twenties.
"Good catch! The Boss will be pleased," one laughed darkly.
The other smirked. "I know. We paid good money for her from the Los Cicatrices gang. She'll do nicely for the Boss's birthday tonight."
The first man glanced over, suddenly worried.
"Does she know how to dance, though?"
"Bah! She's a cute girl! How much does she need to know? Just put a pretty dress on her, and she'll do just fine for anyone," his partner claimed.
The first man remained doubtful, but the other stepped forward and kicked a spray of dirty water onto her.
"Hey! You asleep or something?! Get up! We gotta put you in a dress!"
The girl, who had her face buried in her arms, looked up slightly.
Her eyes were utterly dead.
Annoyed, the man grabbed her by the chin and shook her face.
"Hey! Hey! Liven up!" he grinned. "You'll be dancing for my Boss soon, and who knows? If he's pleased, he might just spend the night with you."
He began to laugh, but the girl spat in his face.
Scowling, he raised his fist to smash her nose, but his partner caught his wrist.
"You fool! Don't hit her face!!!"
"Ah!" The man recalibrated his rage and drove his fist hard into her stomach instead.
She crumpled with a pained groan, the air driven from her lungs.
The men laughed as they grabbed her under the arms and dragged her, limp and unresisting, from the room.
*Drip!*