"What do we do?" A voice cracked through the air, knuckles dug deep into the padded arms of a chair. "Fuck. Fuck. This is bad—this is so bad. Why now, of all times?"
Another man stood by the window, overlooking the chaos that had consumed New Haven. Fires in the distance, streets painted red, civilians crying out beneath broken structures.
Since the founding of the haven, not even the first invasion—when a T-Level Five breached their outer wall—had left it in such ruin.
Johnathan Yll, head of New Haven's civilian government—one of its four pillars—turned from the window.
His gaze settled on Ladislav Bugula, second-in-command and treasurer, seated, sweating, fidgeting like he might tear through his own skin just to escape the room.
"We're on the brink of collapse, hell, we're probably already there," Johnathan said calmly, "and you're worried about Khankar's government?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Ladislav snapped. "Someone from here killed the Jackal, John. One of your exterminators—those people you trust so damn much. This is exactly why I never wanted them embedded in our haven—"
"Regardless of whether you like it or not, they're our main force—"
"That main force... turned their heads into mush. Their skulls, John!" The words almost escaped in a shout. "I'd be questioning how that's even possible if I wasn't too busy shitting myself over what's coming next!"
Johnathan didn't flinch. "It was a disaster, yes. But Khusanov did what was necessary. Sending support to Khankar was the only way to preserve relations. If she hadn't, we'd already be at some kind of crossroads."
Ladislav rubbed his face with frantic force, as though trying to erase the tension from his mind.
"Of course Haj had to sell out his own haven." Johnathan scoffed. "And for something he didn't even get in the end... pathetic. What exactly are Khankar's demands?"
"They're not chasing the betrayal. Can't blame them, only witnesses are the exterminators." Ladislav stood, pacing toward the wall. "They want two things. First, fifty million credits. 'Emotional reparations' for the loss of a beloved leader."
"What a load of shit," Johnathan muttered. "And the second?"
Ladislav spun and kicked the chair he'd just vacated. It slammed into the wall with a sharp thud, the cushion caving in.
"They want the exterminator who killed Haj."
"...How long do we have?"
"Deadline was yesterday."
Johnathan sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "The credits we can manage. But the second... that's where it gets messy."
"Messy?" Ladislav stepped forward, incredulous. "It's a kid, Johnathan. A girl. She did the crime, she does the time. We hand her over, she sits in a hole till she's thirty, if she's lucky. It's not complicated."
"It's not going to work, Ladislav," Johnathan sighed. "You're still new to this side of the job, so I get why you'd think it could."
"Then tell me," Ladislav said, annoyed. "What exactly am I missing?"
Johnathan turned to face him fully.
"What you're missing is that the company has free reign. Their employees are protected, no matter what laws get broken. That was in the contract the moment Haj called for an exterminator."
Ladislav blinked, silent for a moment. "The call logs still exist, right? If we prove Haj made the call..."
"Exactly," Johnathan said. "Which means they're in the clear. So send Khankar the credits and get them off our backs. I'm already sick of this mess."
Ladislav didn't move.
"There's one more issue..."
Johnathan exhaled deeply. "What now?"
"Hallian."
"What about them?"
"They've submitted their own demands. Repercussions for the Jackal's death." Ladislav hesitated. "They want the exterminator who killed him—executed. And they want a seat in our government."
Johnathan froze.
Then he dropped into the nearest chair like his knees had buckled.
"Jesus, Ladislav... why the fuck didn't you start with that?"
"Hallian doesn't have any ties to the exterminator call. Haj was the one in charge," Ladislav repeated. "Their immunity doesn't apply."
"Fuck me..." Johnathan muttered, rubbing his forehead. "What's their proposed penalty? A lump sum? If that's it, we'll just gut the city budget and be done with it—"
"They're not asking for money." Ladislav's voice dropped. "They're proposing war."
That pulled Johnathan's hand away from his face.
"What kind of war?"
"Not full-scale. Silent. Like Khankar. Assassinations. Leaders, families—anyone with influence."
Johnathan leaned back, his eyes wide and unfocused.
"And with our walls open, security wrecked—"
"They're either already here, or they will be," Ladislav said.
Silence.
Then...
"You know something, Ladislav?" Johnathan said, "You really should've fucking started with this."
"What do we do, John? It's one thing having Khankar on our asses, it's another having Hallian's inbred assassins crawling through our streets."
"We need Khusanov first," Johnathan said, already regretting ever taking the governor's seat from his father.
"We've been calling her nonstop. She's not picking up."
"Of course she's not. Half her people are probably dead." He exhaled sharply. "We'll just have to drag her down here. We need to make a plan."
"Who's going to do that?"
Johnathan paused, then said, "...Get Luscious. He's the only one we've got who can even stand a chance against those exterminators."
"Understood." Ladislav nodded and left, one hand already on his earpiece.
Johnathan slumped back in his chair. "What a shitty week."
____________________
"Give it to me straight, doc..." Theresa muttered, seated in the center of the room, dressed in faded blue hospital clothes. "How bad is it?"
The young doctor hesitated, barely twenty, nervously adjusting his glasses. "I... don't know if I'm really qualified—I mean, do you want me to say it here? In front of everyone?"
"I don't care about them, doc." Theresa leaned in, dead serious. "Just hit me with it."
He sighed, clearing his throat. "Well... your vagina and womb are intact. No permanent reproductive issues. But we did have to remove one of your kidneys. It was ruptured—"
"LET'S FUCKING GO!" Theresa shot to her feet, slapping a high-five with Vladimir. "I thought this was it! Doc, you're a lifesaver—what would I have even told my girlfriend?!"
"I see," the doctor muttered, slowly stepping back.
"She lives in Khankar," Theresa continued, "can you help me call her? Tell her my vagina's A-okay. That the dildos will still fit."
"U-umm..." the doctor stammered, face already a deep shade of crimson, arms trembling like he'd entered combat.
"Tell her to stock up on zucchinis," Theresa pressed on, eyes wide with urgency. "Please, doctor. There's no time, tell her to get the biggest, the girthiest—"
"Stop teasing the poor kid, Resa," Cassandra called from her bed, lazily scooping mashed potatoes into her mouth. "He looks like he's about to flatline."
"Why are you even here?" Theresa asked. "You're not even injured!"
"I'm hungry," Cassandra said, licking her spoon. "And Iron's my boy. Gotta support. Even if he's probably not walking again."
"Still not worse than that time your boyfriend dumped you before the Einfrut mission," Iron grunted from the next bed, arms crossed. "You were bawling so hard we lost one of the newbies 'cause of you."
"Wait, that was real?" Theresa blinked.
"Real as hell," Iron chuckled. "She was depressed for like a week. Funniest shit I've seen."
"How can you guys talk like that..." Dahlia muttered from her bed, eyes wide, voice low. "You lost your legs... someone died. This isn't funny."
The room fell silent.
"Dahlia." Massiah muttered, still sprawled across the bed. Out of everyone in the room, his injuries were the worst. "Don't..."
"It's okay, Mass," Cassandra cut in, putting down her plate. She turned to Dahlia. "You were with Quem's group in Raval, right? Heard your speech at the mourning."
"...Yeah," Dahlia replied.
"How many people have you seen die?" Cassandra asked bluntly, and Theresa shot her a warning glance.
"Quit it, Cass."
"If you don't tell them now, they'll figure it out the hard way and end up broken for a fucking week when it happens," Cassandra sighed. "How many people have you seen die—people you knew?"
"Just Quem..."
"And it broke you that hard, right? And you didn't even know her like that," Cassandra scoffed slightly. "I get it though. Quem was a beautiful soul."
"That's enough, Cassandra," Theresa warned again, but Cassandra didn't stop.
"You see these people in this room? Half of us won't make it. The other half? Probably the same." Cassandra pointed to Massiah. "You see him? He's probably gonna croak too. The white-haired kid? Him as well. That's the reality of being an exterminator. People die every hour, and you move on in minutes. If you're gonna cry like a bitch every time it happens, go find a job flipping burgers or some shit—"
A loud slam cut her off. Massiah's fist had punched through the wall, blood splattering as the impact echoed. The doctors rushed over in a flurry.
"Protecting the kid from the world won't do a damn thing—"
"Shut up," Massiah ordered, his eyes glaring through the bandages wrapped around his face.
"Whatever," Cassandra muttered, turning to leave. "When someone else dies and her legs lock up, don't say I didn't warn you."
As Cassandra exited, Sabrina stepped in, pausing to watch the grade-two exterminator walk off. "What's up with her?"
"Just Cass being Cass—no social awareness," Theresa replied, barely glancing up.
"What's going on?" Vladimir asked, sitting up in his bed, wincing slightly.
Sabrina had already seen the damage, but seeing her exterminators awake, battered, and bruised made the reality hit harder. A week had passed since the attack, and now she saw them—some missing limbs, others with organs damaged beyond repair. A few would never fight again. Some wouldn't walk again.
Yet not one face showed regret, not a single frown.
"I know, Dahlia probably filled you in already," Sabrina exhaled, "But Ansel was taken during the confrontation. He went with Knox."
"Any leads?" Vladimir asked. "...Anyone see a white billboard leave through the front door?"
"Zero," Sabrina replied, "everyone was in panic."
"So what's the plan?" Vladimir's tone darkened. "We just leave the white squirt to die?"
Sabrina didn't answer. She simply glanced at Dahlia's and Massiah's faces. Going after Ansel wasn't an option. She couldn't afford to risk several lives for one. It would be a mistake she wasn't willing to make.
But it wasn't just Ansel's life. He was important.
"He's a crucial piece to a puzzle we can't solve yet," Sabrina said, "so at least we know they won't kill him."
"...I heard them speak," Dahlia began, her hands pressed against her legs on the hospital bed. "Ansel's some sort of cure. I don't know what it means."
"A cure..." Sabrina muttered, her mind turning. "I'll have to look into that. But for now, I want you all to rest. No one leaves this room until the doctors clear you, got it?"
"When do we head out?" Osiris finally asked, his head resting against the wall, eyes staring blankly out the window at the grey-lit sky.
"Probably in a few weeks," Sabrina answered. "Those who've healed by then will—"
"Good," Osiris cut her off. "I'm killing that bastard the next time I see him. He'll regret not ripping my head off when he had the chance."
She exhaled.
"Anyways, you guys should rest," Sabrina said, turning toward the door. "We'll talk later." She slammed it behind her, exhaling sharply.
So much weighed on her shoulders, and the only lead they had was a warehouse in Winterglaides, an expensive, high-risk move. She needed time to think, but more than that, she needed rest. If she didn't get it soon, she'd burn out.
"Sabrina Khusanov."
The voice snapped her out of her thoughts. A gun was already pointed at her.
"Your presence is required in the Assembly Hall. You are to follow me immediately."
"This can wait," Sabrina said, her eyes flicking around. The exterminators she'd assigned to guard the door lay slumped behind the armed man, breathing but barely conscious.
"I'm afraid it's not a request," Luscious replied, the gun nudging to the side, a gesture for her to move.
"Of course it's not," Sabrina sighed, turning to walk.