Fannec Records - Book 1: Outlaw - Chapter 19

“Slow down; we don’t want to attract any more attention,” Ace’s calm voice cut through the hum of the ship’s engines.

Robert nodded as he maneuvered the spacecraft through the dark expanse of space. His slight frame was hunched over the controls, fingers tapping across the buttons and levers with erratic grace. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Mool loomed ahead, a swirling mass of blues and greens, both beautiful and menacing.

“Ah, Mool,” he said under his breath with determination and anxiety, “home to the galaxy’s most nefarious criminals and warehouses filled with innocent victims.”

“Not quite, but close enough,” the small floating orb shifted colors as it hovered nearby. “But let’s focus on our task. You’re going to want to take her in slow now. We wouldn’t want your first solo landing to end in a massive explosion.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” He hated when Ace got all mentor-like. Still, he couldn’t deny the usefulness of having a knowledgeable friend.

“Okay, we’re approaching the landing site. Reduce speed and activate the landing gear.”

“Already on it,” his heart pounded as he eased the ship into descent. The surface of Mool grew more extensive on the display, its mysterious terrain coming into focus. He felt a twinge of gratitude towards the AI, though he refused to let it show. Instead, he said under his breath, “Like I’ve never landed a ship before…”

“Apologies if we’re insulting your piloting talents,” the sarcasm in Ace’s voice was now unmistakable. “We’re trying to ensure a smooth landing and not crash into one of those lovely towers.”

Ace’s reference was to the three colossal skyscrapers that dotted the skyline of the spaceport, the same destination from which Robert had begun this adventure. He meditated on his previous life, not the crazy time he’d had the last month or so, but back when he was deeply in debt and about to lose his home. While he might not be living a luxurious life, he could at least take solace in knowing he was helping people. Perhaps this was an improvement?

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Robert conceded, gripping the controls tighter. The ship shuddered as it touched down, kicking up clouds of dust and debris.

He sighed, feeling a shaky burden settle on his shoulders. It was the weight of his responsibility for what would happen next.

“Congratulations,” Ace said with mock enthusiasm dripping from the word, enunciating every syllable. “You’ve successfully landed us in the wretched hive of scum and villainy. That is Mool. Now, let’s get to work.”

“Hey, you remember this is my home world, right?” He stared at the familiar landscape, his thoughts consumed by the mission ahead and the lives he was attempting to save.

Robert closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. His thoughts raced, a chaotic storm in his mind as he prepared for the life-changing mission ahead. Robert tried to shove down the anxiety gnawing at his chest with each breath. He knew there was no room for fear, not with so many lives hanging in the balance.

“Alright,” he said, opening his eyes and forcing a crooked smile, “time to pack up and save the day.”

Rifling through the ship, Robert located his possessions: a dilapidated satchel stuffed with some small tech gadgets, an eclectic small pistol, a long barrel armament thrown together by Ace, and a tattered cord barely clinging to its last threads.

He began to double-check his equipment, ensuring it was all functioning correctly and ready for whatever unexpected challenges the mission might entail. He felt a thrill of nervous energy as he reviewed the weapons in his arsenal, the comfort of knowing he had what it took to protect himself weighing on his mind. His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted the straps of his utility belt, the tools and gadgets housed within a constant reminder that he had accepted this duty of his own volition.

He slung the backpack over one shoulder, feeling its familiar weight settle against him like a stubborn shadow. He paused for a moment, fingers tracing the pistol’s grip. An unsettling mix of resolve and trepidation bubbled beneath his skin.

“Remember,” Ace chimed in, startling Robert out of his thoughts. “The key to success on this is stealth and precision. Don’t go all gung-ho on us, now.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Robert shot back, rolling his eyes. He drew another steadying breath before stepping out of the ship, the biting wind of Mool’s atmosphere whipping his hair into a frenzy.

He whispered something about being a hero and began his grueling hike across the treacherous terrain.

The landscape stretched before him, a barren wasteland riddled with jagged rocks and deep ravines. The ground was uneven, each step a small victory against the unforgiving terrain. He moved methodically, weaving through narrow crevices and scaling unstable slopes. Sweat clung to his brow, the salty sting a constant reminder of the stakes.

He couldn’t afford to rent a car, so he got into this mess. He also couldn’t afford to let anyone know he was coming, so a hike was the best option. Robert wasn’t much of a hiker, but he set about the task as if he were being paid to do it.

As he trudged onward, his thoughts were consumed with the victims he was there to save and those in other warehouses he couldn’t. They were the fuel that kept his tired limbs moving, the fire that burned in his chest as he pushed forward.

He uttered a mantra of motivation between gasping breaths, the words a lifeline against the crushing quiet of Mool. “Can’t give up” became his refrain as he forced his aching body onward, repeating it in time with his labored exhalations. He pressed forward, step by painful step.

He imagined their faces, men, women, and children stolen from their homes, families, and lives. Each one was a person with dreams and hopes, now trapped in the cold clutches of twisted schemes.

Loose rocks shifted underfoot, threatening to twist an ankle or send him sliding down the cliffs if he lost focus. He pounded as he traced a path across the wasteland, hyperaware that one misstep could end his mission before it even began.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, an ominous silhouette against the darkening sky. Robert felt the weight of his mission settle heavier upon his shoulders, but beneath it all, there was a spark of determination, a will to fight, to save those who couldn’t protect themselves.

Robert whispered as he tightened his grip on the handgun, taking one step closer to the center of darkness. Although no audible words were spoken, his whisper was directed at Foreman, conveying a lethal intent.

With every step, Robert’s mind raced through the potential security measures that awaited him. Laser grids, hidden cameras, armed guards, each possibility more daunting than the last. But as he sorted through this catalog of fears, his wry sense of humor couldn’t help but peek through.

“Bet they’ve installed a moat filled with lava sharks since I was last here,” he said under his breath, grinning despite the seriousness of the situation. “Or maybe trap doors that lead straight to Foreman’s collection of man-eating plants.”

The thought was ludicrous, of course, but it served its purpose. The grin on Robert’s face widened, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of his mission felt a bit lighter.

As the ground leveled out beneath him, Robert arrived at the outskirts of the warehouse. The structure loomed above him like a sleeping beast, its metallic skin reflecting the light of Mool’s host planet. A shiver ran down his spine, not from the chill in the air but from the knowledge of what lay within those cold steel walls.

Robert crouched and whispered while carefully moving toward a nearby outcropping of rocks. Off to Robert’s left was the shipyard where he had discovered Ace. He crept towards the rocks to gain information about what awaited him without being seen.

From there, he could survey the warehouse’s perimeter, searching for any weaknesses or openings that might allow him entry.

“Let’s see… Cameras? Check. Guards? Double check.” Robert counted the obstacles; his eyes scanned the scene like a hawk circling its prey. “And… Oh, what’s this? A conveniently placed entrance begging to be infiltrated? Don’t mind if I do.”

He allowed himself to chuckle at his sarcasm before squinting at the door. It was tucked away in a shadowy corner, not entirely hidden but certainly less conspicuous than the main entrance. It would be risky. He’d have to creep to avoid detection, but it was his best option.

He psyched himself up for the task ahead. “You’ve got this. Time to do hero things.”

With that, Robert took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and began to strategize his infiltration plan. Every step had to be calculated, every movement precise. He knew that lives were on the line, and there was no room for error.

He and Ace conversed via the comm device, verifying they agreed with the plan. Neither of them had ever done this sort of thing before; it was a nerve-wracking experience for them.

Robert crouched in the dark, a coiled spring about to snap. He could feel his determination like a burning coal, hot and pressing against the back of his eyes. It would not be much longer now. He was ready.

“The battery on the holo-projector isn’t big, so only use it to slip past the patrol. It isn’t perfect, so don’t expect it to hide you completely. Stick to the shadows,” Ace reminded Robert as he made his way to the mission objective.

He activated his makeshift camouflage projector, and a brief, blue light shone from the device strapped to his waist. The plan was to get into the facility using this gadget, though how he would escape remained uncertain.

Mold assaulted Robert’s nostrils as he slipped through the half-open door without making a sound. A near miss occurred when the camouflage device turned off as it adjusted to the lower light, and a patrol turned the nearest corner simultaneously.

He scanned the warehouse, eyes adjusting to the dim light from the grimy windows high above. Stacks of crates, haphazardly piled on top of one another, created a maze of narrow pathways perfect for a game of cat and mouse, especially for the reigning hide-and-seek champion.

“Let’s hope these goons aren’t too observant.”

With cat-like stealth, Robert wove through the labyrinthine warehouse. He constantly reminded himself that precision was critical; one wrong move could spell disaster for him and those he’s come to save.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin this little rescue-slash-assassination mission with a clumsy step, now would we?” he thought, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As he peered around a stack of crates, Robert spotted a guard idling by a row of locked metal doors. The man’s beefy arms were crossed over his chest, and his vacant expression screamed boredom. Robert’s pulse quickened, adrenaline surging through his veins like electricity. The battery on the projector almost drained, so he turned it off. It served its purpose to get him in.

Robert held his breath, praying his heavy breathing wouldn’t give him away as the footsteps slowed along with his perception of time. The guard’s shadow stretched around the corner, clawing closer to Robert’s hiding spot. He closed his eyes, feeling death’s outstretched fingers reaching for him. An eternity passed before the shadow retreated, and he dared inhale again.

“This is it. Showtime.”

As Robert stepped out from behind the crates, he pulled out the small pistol and fired center mass. The gun had no sound, being a lower velocity round and using a standard mag-rail acceleration.

“Sorry, big guy.”

It was the first time Robert had taken a life intentionally. A mix of relief and guilt washed over him as he watched the guard crumple. Robert knew his actions were necessary to complete the self-appointed mission, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had ended someone’s life too easily. With a somber expression, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and continued his mission.

Robert whispered to himself as he scanned the dark recesses of the warehouse with determination. Though uttering no distinct words, his hushed vocalization signaled his intent to proceed cautiously. He peered into the shadowy depths of the building.

He quickly checked the guard’s pockets and found what he was looking for: a key card to the secured doors. He hurried over to the row of metal doors and swiped the card, silently thanking the universe when it beeped, and the doors slid open.

The stench of fear and sweat assaulted Robert’s nostrils as he entered, revealing a pitch-black cell crammed with haggard, frightened faces. The sight of them made his heart swell with both relief and urgency.

“Hey there,” he said, forcing a lopsided grin. “Room service?”

The victims blinked up at him, their eyes wide and disbelieving. One woman, her face bruised and streaked with tears, dared to voice the question on everyone’s lips: “Are… are you here to help us?” Beside her was a young man, no older than eighteen, his hair matted and clothes tattered. Further back, a father clutched his two small children, their skinny bodies trembling. Each victim’s face told a story of hardship and crushed hopes.

“Damn straight,” his stomach twisted with disgust at the conditions they had been forced to endure. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Really?” The young man said with a flicker of hope in his eyes. “All of us?”

Robert hesitated momentarily, recalling the maze of crates and armed guards outside. He knew that freeing all the victims would be a Herculean task, but he refused to let pessimism cloud his mission. “Every last one of you,” he promised, gritting his teeth as he set to work unlocking the cell door.

“Thank you,” the woman clasped his hand with trembling fingers. “We thought we’d never make it out.”

“Save your thanks,” Robert forced the rusty lock open. “Stay quiet and follow my lead, okay?”

As the liberated victims nodded their agreement, Robert scanned the warehouse floor, his mind racing.

“Alright, folks. Stick close and keep low,” he led the small group of survivors through the labyrinthine aisles of the warehouse. “And whatever you do, don’t make a sound.”

“Wait!” one man hissed, grabbing Robert’s arm as they approached an intersection. “There’s another group of us in that cell over there.”

Robert’s entire body clenched with frustration and regret as he peered around the corner, spotting the second cell and the two heavily armed guards nearby. From within the cell, he could hear muffled cries. “I’ll come back for them,” his voice was thick. “For now, we need to get you out of here.” If he could get them to safety, perhaps he could reconsider and free the others, but first, they had to make it out alive.

As the motley crew of escapees was inching closer to freedom, Robert felt a pang of guilt for those he was leaving behind. But he pushes it aside, focusing instead on the current task: getting these people to safety and returning to finish what he started.

As they inched towards the exit, a young girl around six started whimpering, tears filling her eyes. Robert knelt and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. I won’t let them hurt you anymore. Stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” She nodded, wiping her nose.

“Almost there,” sweat was beading on his brow. The sound of approaching footsteps sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he pressed himself flat against the warehouse wall, beckoning for the others to do the same. “Stay absolutely still,” he said, praying their captors won’t notice anything amiss.

Robert whispered to the freed victims as they inched closer to the exit. His heart hammered against his rib cage, each pulse echoing in his ears like a drumbeat of impending doom.

“Great, great,” he muttered under his breath as he spotted a suspicious guard sauntering their way. “Now what?”

With no time to lose, Robert ushered the escapees into a nearby storage room and scrambled up a stack of crates, hauling himself into the rafters. He cursed his luck, wishing he could have freed the victims before being forced into hiding.

“Rats get the whole dang package, small spaces, free food, and no one trying to kill them. Why can’t I be a rat?” he complained, lying flat on a beam as the guard passed beneath him, unaware of the drama above his head.

From his precarious perch among the rafters, Robert studied the warehouse layout, taking mental notes.

“Ace, I’ve found the victims. I’m going to need someone to pick them up. I hope we have enough room.”

“En route, do you need any other assistance?” Ace said from the comm device in Robert’s ear.

“Yeah, I need you to create a distraction. Divert their focus from the egress route so we can make our escape.” Robert scanned the area below for any sign of movement.

“Roger that. We’ll see what we can do.”

As he cast about for a new plan, the dark humor that had carried him through countless scrapes and near misses bubbled up like bile in his throat. But then the haunted eyes of the victims flashed through his mind, the young mother clutching her infant, the old man slumped in resignation.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his tired eyes as he pondered his next move. And then, like a bolt of lightning from the heavens, a plan hit him.

“Alright, you sneaky bastards,” a wicked grin spread across his face as he began to execute his daring scheme. “Let’s see how you handle a little chaos.”

From his vantage point among the rafters, Robert’s keen eyes scanned the scene below, searching for any opportunity to make his move.

And then, as if fate had finally decided to throw him a bone, he saw Mr. Foreman striding into the garage with all the arrogance of a man who believed himself untouchable. Rage boiled within Robert, fierce like molten lava, as he recalled the countless crimes the man had committed, lives ruined, families torn apart, and innocent people left to suffer at the hands of his insidious smuggling ring.

“Son of a…!” Robert cursed, clenching his fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You’re going down.”

But even as anger pulsed through his veins, he knew that passion alone wouldn’t win the day. He needed a clear head, a steady hand, and the kind of precision that could only come from absolute focus. Forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths, he let the fury dissipate, replaced by an icy determination that chilled him to the core.

Robert spoke in a hushed whisper, his voice barely audible as he tried to psych himself up. Though no distinct words could be made out, he was clearly giving himself a quiet pep talk. The tense situation called for absolute focus and precision, and Robert knew he likely only had one chance to get things right. With the stakes high, he steeled his nerves and reminded himself not to make any mistakes, his muted tone conveying the gravity of the impending task. Robert knew he had to stay calm and execute flawlessly; the whispered words were meant for his ears only as he prepared to take his one shot.

With every ounce of self-control, Robert pushed back against the torrent of emotions. As he steadied his breathing and narrowed his focus, he could almost feel the universe’s weight pressing down upon him, a crushing reminder of the stakes at hand and the lives in the balance. But instead of crumbling beneath the pressure, he drew strength from it, letting it forge him into something more complex, sharper, and far more dangerous than he had thought possible.

A sinister smile tugged at the corners of Robert’s mouth as a dark thought crossed his mind unspoken. He contemplated how any gods observing from above may show mercy on the soul of his next target. The grim expression on his face revealed his intentions were far from benevolent. He appeared ready to unleash retribution without remorse, relishing the foreboding situation. Robert’s quiet but menacing demeanor signaled that someone’s judgment day was today, and he was prepared to deliver their fate without divine salvation.

With a practiced hand and steady gaze, Robert aimed his rifle at Foreman, his finger hovering over the trigger like a live wire. The warehouse below him seemed to slow down, each moment stretching into eternity as he waited for the perfect moment to strike. He thought this was what it must feel like to hold fate in his hands.

Robert uttered a muted phrase to himself as he fortified his nerves, gripping the trigger with intense resolve that masked his inner turmoil. Though speaking too quietly to be heard clearly, his tone suggested bracing for a daunting task ahead. Beneath the stoic exterior, anxiety churned inside Robert’s stomach, threatening to betray the grim determination etched on his face. He squeezed the trigger and pushed himself into danger despite his doubts.

Robert, acutely aware that this was the decisive moment, murmured a final exhale to bolster his determination. He resolved to complete the irreversible action, regardless of the consequences.

The gunshot rang like a thunderclap, its echoes reverberating through the vast space of the warehouse. For a moment, Robert allowed himself to hope, to believe that he had ended the nightmare that has been his life.

But then he saw Mr. Foreman stagger, clutching at his shoulder where the projectile had gone through him. The crime lord’s eyes swept upward, locking onto Robert’s position with a chilling intensity that sent shivers down his spine.

“Shit,” Robert cursed under his breath; his hope sank as he realized the enormity of his failure. “Of course, it couldn’t have been that easy.”

“Nice shot,” Foreman mocked, pressing a hand to his wound as blood seeped between his fingers. “But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to take me down.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Robert snarked back, cursing himself for letting his fury get the better. He scrambled along the rafters, searching for a new vantage point, even as his mind raced with the implications of his botched attempt. If he didn’t act quickly, the entire mission could unravel, leaving him with nothing but a one-way ticket to the afterlife.

“Well,” he thought with a grim chuckle, “at least I managed to get the bastard’s attention.”

A wail of gunshots filled the air, a cacophony that shattered Robert’s momentary paralysis. He sprang into motion, leaping from rafter to rafter, agile as a squirrel despite the pounding in his chest. “Fantastic! Now I’m part of the world’s worst orchestra.”

Only a few of Foreman’s men fired at Robert; the others all looked to be scattering. Robert could hear the gangster say something about needing him alive. That’s when the firing stopped.

“Mr. Rob!” Foreman’s voice taunted him. “This is quite the mess you’ve made. I’ll give you points for effort, but your performance still leaves much to be desired!”

“Shut up!” Robert yelled in a lackluster attempt at banter. He gritted his teeth; seeing Foreman rising to his feet despite the wound only fueled his determination. The man’s smug expression was like a slap to the face, igniting a fire within Robert that refused to be snuffed out.

The large gangster made his way out of the main warehouse. Robert could only guess where.

“Alright, time for Plan B,” he darted between the shadows cast by flickering emergency lights. His thoughts raced like a hare on fire, scrambling for some way to end this nightmare once and for all. “Or was it Plan C? Hell, I’ve lost track.”

As he navigated the hazardous maze of crates and machinery, Robert’s mind filled with images of the victims he’d fought so hard to save: their haunted eyes, their battered bodies, each one an accusation that weighed heavily on his conscience. He couldn’t fail them now, not when victory was so close. But how could he hope to succeed against such overwhelming odds?

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Foreman’s voice dripped with menace over the speakers. “Don’t be shy, Mr. Rob. Let’s finish our little dance, shall we?”

“Keep dreaming,” Robert snarled under his breath, his gaze locked on the man who had made his life, and the lives of so many others, a living hell. He couldn’t allow himself to hesitate any longer; every second wasted was another that could spell doom for the people he had sworn to protect.

“Time to take you down a peg, Foreman,” Robert summoned the last reserves of his strength. His eyes narrowed, his muscles coiled like springs, and in that instant, he knew nothing would stop him from completing his mission. Not the alarms, not the guards, and certainly not the smirking bastard who stood in his way.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

Determined, he set off to pursue Mr. Foreman, his mind filled with courage and resolve despite the escalating danger. He took a moment to survey the chaotic scene before him: goons scrambling, their faces twisted with panic, sweat gleaming on their foreheads like a bad special effect. The sharp tang of fear and despair filled the air, mingling with the acrid smell of the warehouse. It all would have been almost comical if the stakes hadn’t been so high.

“Seriously, guys,” Robert watched a guard trip over his feet, “all this fuss over little ol’ me? You’re making me blush!”

Despite the tension, Robert cracked a crooked grin. It was moments like these when he felt alive, his senses razor-sharp. He knew he couldn’t let his guard down, lest he became another casualty of Mr. Foreman’s nefarious deeds. But there was something exhilarating about dancing on the knife’s edge between life and death, and he couldn’t deny that he found it intoxicating.

“Okay, focus,” his smile faded as he peered around the corner, searching for any sign of Foreman. He had made his way across the top of the warehouse using the rafters. Now, he made his way down one side wall. “You’re not here to win a game of hide-and-seek; you’re here to save lives.”

As if on cue, he spotted a flash of movement across the warehouse floor: Mr. Foreman, slinking away like the slimy snake he was. Robert’s eyes narrowed, his pulse quickening as he prepared to give chase.

“Gotcha.” His voice was cold and steely as he sprang into action. “Nowhere left to run, Foreman.”

Robert slipped through the shadows like a specter, his every step calculated and precise. He easily evaded the gang members, his hide-and-seek experience becoming more valuable by the second. The thrill of the hunt coursed through his veins. And as he closed in on his prey, one thought became apparent: there would be no escape for this shitbag this time.

Robert ducked behind a stack of crates, the gang members’ grunts and footsteps growing louder. He sucked in a shaky breath, suppressing a sarcastic chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Ah, yes, another day on the illustrious moon, Mool,” he scanned the chaos for an escape route. “Dodge certain death, hunt down a slimy crime boss, all in a day’s work.”

His eyes caught sight of a poorly lit maintenance hallway between two towering shelves, its shadows whispering promises of refuge—the faintest ember of optimism kindled within him, igniting his path through the gloom.

“Foreman’s office,” his voice was barely audible over the din of alarms and shouting. “If it leads there… that’s where I’ll find him.”

With cat-like agility, Robert slipped into the hallway, feeling the cold concrete against his fingertips as he pressed himself against the wall. The dim light cast eerie shadows on the floor, morphing with every step he took. His thoughts raced, strategizing his imminent confrontation with Foreman.

Robert knew he was up against nearly impossible odds, yet he whispered self-assuringly to bolster his courage against the enormous wolf of a human. Even as doubt and peril swirled within, he maintained an outward appearance of confidence, exemplified by the grim grin on his face.

As he navigated the winding passageway, Robert felt a sense of dread creeping up his spine, as if the very walls were closing in on him, eager to swallow him whole. He shook off the sensation, knowing that fear was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now.

“Focus,” he reminded himself, his knuckles white as he gripped the pistol at his side. “You’ve come too far to let him slip away now.”

The further he ventured down the hallway, the more his anxiety grew. Twisted vines of doubt and uncertainty choked the resolve from his lungs.

“Come on, Foreman,” he was stalking through the darkness with predatory grace. “Let’s see if you’re as untouchable as you think.”

Robert reached Foreman’s office, the door looming before him like an ominous gatekeeper. He took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he leaned against the cold metallic wall. Sweat beaded on his forehead mingled with the dust and grime of the maintenance hallway.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Robert wore a wry smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he muttered under his breath.

He pushed off from the wall and studied the door, noting the high-tech security keypad. The soft glow of its buttons was almost inviting, like fireflies on a warm summer night, but Robert knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of security.

“Let’s see if Ace’s little gift comes in handy,” he said, pulling a small electronic device from his pocket. He attached it to the keypad, watching the numbers scramble and rearrange themselves, the machine working its magic. “Come on, baby.”

The door unlocked with a satisfying click, and Robert couldn’t help but let out a laugh: “Ace, you absolute genius,” as he pushed the door open.

Inside the office, the air was tense, the stale scent of cigar smoke clinging to every surface. Robert’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the ostentatious décor and the rows of monitors displaying footage from various security cameras. Entering the room was like stepping into the snake’s lair, where it had fattened up on the suffering of others.

“Foreman!” Robert’s voice echoed through the chamber. “Time’s up, buddy. You’ve slithered your way out of trouble for far too long.”

No response.

“Fine, have it your way,” he holstered his weapon and approached the desk. His every nerve-ending screamed for him to be on guard, but that stubborn determination drove him forward.

“Hope you don’t mind if I help myself to a little souvenir.” Robert rifled through the drawers and files. He spotted a picture frame on the desk, showing Foreman shaking hands with some smug-looking politicians. “Oh, isn’t this cozy? Birds of a feather and all that.”

A metallic clang sounded from behind him as he was about to pocket the photo. Robert whirled around, gun at the ready, only to find himself face-to-face with Foreman, a sinister grin plastered across his face.

“Ah,” Foreman purred, stepping out from the shadows. “So it is you. I was right? My memory isn’t as good as it once was.”

“Looks like it,” Robert’s finger twitched on the pistol still in its holster.

Foreman sneered, his weapon already raised. “I’m afraid your little performance ends here.”

“Guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?” Robert retorted, his thoughts racing as he calculated his next move. His grip tightened on the gun, resolve hardening like steel in his veins.