I

  When I woke up, it was still dark outside. I glanced around the room and muttered:

  “Damn… she’s still not back, huh?”

  Realizing I still had some time before heading out, I took care of a few basic chores—things neither of us usually had time for. When I finished, I noticed with relief that the water had been restored overnight. A good way to start the day.

  “Well, back to work,” I sighed to myself.

  I grabbed the card and headed toward the meeting point in Sector One, walking through the gray, filthy streets of my own district.

  II

  The closer I got to the border, the more clearly I could feel the difference between this place and the rest of the city. I realized with relief that, at least for a moment, I’d be able to breathe cleaner air than usual. My brief reflection was interrupted by the sight of a massive white wall—the boundary between two realities.

  “Hey, you there!” one of the guards shouted from the gate. “What the hell do you want here?”

  Without a word, I stepped forward and handed him the card I’d received from the commander. Cold gazes from the soldiers followed my every move.

  “Oh. So you’re the one we were told to wait for,” he said after a moment of grave silence. “Go on.”

  He turned and shouted toward the checkpoint:

  “Open the gate!”

  After crossing the border, I stopped on the other side and froze. I had never seen surroundings this clean before. I stood there for a moment until a young, visibly nervous man approached me.

  “Mr. Charlie Freeman?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Yes,” I replied, uncertain. “And you’re Anthony?”

  “No, no,” he said quickly, clearly relieved. “My name is Peter Grey. I’m Mr. Davies’s assistant and right-hand man. Do you need any help?”

  “Help?” I didn’t hide my surprise.

  “Well… I don’t know your situation, but I can imagine what it might look like…” He hesitated.

  “It’s fine,” I cut him off. “Can we get down to business?”

  “Of course. This way, please.”

  III

  After receiving the promised new equipment—including a bulletproof vest—Peter explained the plan and my role. Early in the morning, Davies was to arrive at the Sector Three city hall, meet with the administrator, and then take part in a rally with the residents.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Mr. Davies seems quite popular with the people,” I remarked. “My presence might be unnecessary.”

  “The congressman isn’t afraid of the meeting itself,” I was told. “But the underworld has a strong influence there. And with them, you never know.”

  With that rather sparse briefing, I got into the waiting car, where Anthony Davies himself greeted me.

  “I’m glad we’re finally meeting, Mr. Freeman,” he said once we started moving. “Although this isn’t our first encounter.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, openly curious.

  “I expected you might not remember,” he smiled faintly. “I’m a bit older. We grew up in the same orphanage.”

  That explained a lot. But I had learned not to trust convenient coincidences too easily.

  “And Susan? How is she doing? We used to be quite close.”

  “She’s alive,” I replied. “Would you be offended if I asked a rather personal question?”

  “Considering how many I’ve already asked, I wouldn’t have the right to be.”

  After a moment of awkward silence, I finally spoke:

  “Why do you do what you do? And how did you end up where you are?”

  Davies smiled.

  “I was expecting a harder question. I was simply lucky—taken in by good, influential people. But memories aren’t as fleeting as some would like. I can’t forget what I saw as a child. I don’t want others to go through the same thing.”

  We passed another group of protesters who, despite their frustration, kept their distance from the vehicle.

  “Why did you choose me for this job?” I asked. “Shouldn’t the government provide protection through corporations?”

  “Do you trust them?”

  “No. They’re far too indiscreet.”

  “Exactly.”

  At that moment, the car stopped. We had arrived at the city hall.

  IV

  Together with Anthony and Peter, I headed toward the rally in front of the building. The administrator wouldn’t let me inside, so I stood out in the cold for quite a while—for which Peter later apologized repeatedly.

  The meeting itself proceeded in a surprisingly positive atmosphere. The politicians didn’t shy away from difficult topics. I, however, focused on my surroundings. After some time, I noticed increased movement in several areas of the square, especially near the statue of the wild horse. A group of people dressed in identical dark clothing was responsible.

  I discreetly passed along my observations, then blended into the crowd.

  Suddenly, an explosion rang out.

  Chaos erupted, but nothing serious happened. I rushed toward Davies.

  “We’re okay!” he shouted. “Go after them!”

  I spotted a group fleeing into a side alley. I chased them, firing a few warning shots—no effect. At the corner, I stopped abruptly.

  Four shadows.

  “I think we made it.”

  “Quiet. You’ll scare him off.”

  I covered my face with a scarf and grabbed a crowbar. After making sure I had an escape route, I stepped out from behind the corner.

  “There he is, the bastard,” one of the gangsters spat and fired.

  He missed. The others rushed me. Dodging their blows, I subdued them carefully, making sure not to deal lethal damage. As I turned, I heard:

  “I wouldn’t move if I were you.”

  The shot hit my shoulder. I fell, but the pain was less than expected—the vest did its job.

  “I’ll make this quick,” the attacker said, reloading.

  I swept his legs out from under him. When I ended up on top, I struck until he stopped moving.

  “Everything alright?” Davies asked, breathless, suddenly appearing beside me.

  “Yes.”

  He looked at the injured men.

  “Are they all alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t expect such mercy from you.”

  After a brief silence, I replied:

  “I hate killing.”