Chapter 33: Closer to the Danger

A few days before the epic showdown with the Butcher...

The dingy pub reeked of stale beer and broken dreams. Rocco and Bishop barely had time to settle into their usual corner when a mountain of a man lumbered towards them, his wild beard threatening to swallow his face whole.

"Well, well, well! If it ain't my favorite troublemakers!" the man bellowed, his grin wide enough to split his face in two.

Rocco snorted. "Lucky! Still hiding from the taxman, I see."

Lucky was a relic from their past – one of Manju's old crew. These days, he ran this hole-in-the-wall joint, scraping by on the wrong side of legal.

"You know me," Lucky chuckled, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Always looking for the next big score. Got any juicy leads? I'm not picky – legit or... otherwise." He waggled his bushy eyebrows suggestively.

Bishop's eyes flashed. "Knock it off, Lucky. We're done with that life."

Rocco nodded, but couldn't quite meet Lucky's gaze. The temptation of easy money never really went away, did it?

Lucky's eyes narrowed, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Oh, come off it! You two, going straight? That's rich." He leaned in, his breath reeking of cheap cigars. "We're all cut from the same dirty cloth here in Third Street. Spill it already!"

Bishop puffed up, looking way too pleased with himself. "Nah, man. We've actually landed something legit. No more shady deals or looking over our shoulders."

"Oh yeah?" Lucky's eyebrows shot up, practically disappearing into his hairline. "And what's this magical job that's got you both walking the straight and narrow?"

Bishop and Rocco shared a look. The kind of look that said more than words ever could. Boss Avery's warning echoed in their heads: "The fewer people who know, the safer we all are."

Going undercover was serious business. One slip-up, one loose lip, and it could all come crashing down. They weren't about to risk it all just to impress an old buddy who couldn't keep his nose clean.

Rocco leaned back, trying to look casual. "It's no walk in the park, Lucky. You up for actually breaking a sweat for once? The pay's nothing to write home about, though."

"Yeah?" Lucky's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "How much we talking?"

"Minimum wage," Rocco said with a shrug.

Lucky's face fell faster than a lead balloon. He looked at his old friends like they'd lost their marbles. These guys used to run with the big dogs, and now they were chasing scraps?

A mischievous glint appeared in Lucky's eye. He leaned in close, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Listen up, you two. I've got a potential goldmine walking through that door today."

Rocco's ears practically twitched. "Oh yeah?"

"Some bigshot client," Lucky continued, clearly enjoying having their full attention. "They're willing to shell out serious cash for the right info about Third Street."

Bishop shifted uncomfortably, but Rocco was all ears. The mention of easy money had a way of making even the most determined "reformed" criminal sit up and take notice.

"What kind of info?" Rocco asked, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant.

Lucky waved his hand dismissively. "Chill, it's not as shady as it sounds. Just basic intel on folks around here. Apparently, they're on some kind of hiring spree."

Bishop's eyebrows shot up. "That's it? Sounds too good to be true."

"Right?" Lucky nodded. "I've already hooked them up with a couple of names. Pocketed a sweet commission for my trouble, too."

Rocco leaned in, practically vibrating with excitement. "So what's the catch? There's always a catch."

"Well..." Lucky's voice dropped to a whisper. He glanced around the dingy bar, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "Thing is, those two people I recommended? They've vanished. Poof. Gone without a trace."

The color drained from Bishop's face. "What do you mean, vanished?"

Lucky shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his eyes betrayed his unease. "One day they're here, next day - nothing. No one's seen 'em, no one's heard from 'em. It's like they never existed."

…

Back to the present...

The old wooden cabin creaked softly around them, a stark contrast to the stillness of the surrounding forest. Takeda and Damien sat across from each other, the warmth of the fireplace doing little to thaw the tension between them.

"Come on, Damien," Takeda urged. "If I could break free from their clutches, you can too. It's not too late."

Damien leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the dancing lights. "You don't get it, do you?" He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "The organization... they always demand a price." His gaze flicked to Takeda, full of bitter resignation. "You had something to trade – your wife, your kid. Me? All I've got is my sorry excuse for a life."

The words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of pine and woodsmoke. Takeda opened his mouth to argue, but found himself at a loss. Deep down, he knew Damien had a point. The organization never let anyone go without exacting a terrible cost.

"If you keep this up, you'll end up just like our old buddies," Takeda said, his voice low. "Six feet under. What's the point?"

Damien shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "The point? I get to see another sunrise. That's something, right?"

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, out of nowhere, Takeda snorted. It started as a chuckle, but soon he was doubled over, laughing like a maniac. Damien tried to keep a straight face, but it was hopeless. Before long, both of them were howling with laughter, all the tension from moments ago evaporating like mist.

As their laughter died down, Damien wiped a tear from his eye. "Man, those three kids, though. They're something else, aren't they?"

Takeda nodded, still catching his breath. "Yeah, I noticed. Especially after how Mina reacted to you. I've got some theories, but..." He trailed off with a shrug.

"You're not even a little curious about what they're up to?" Damien raised an eyebrow.

Takeda leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. "Nah. They're not kids anymore. Whatever they're mixed up in, it's their business."

Damien's voice dropped to a whisper. "But what if... you know... the organization..."

Takeda's eyes hardened, a dangerous glint flickering in them. "Let them try," he growled. "You know why they really let me go? It wasn't just about cutting ties with my family. They're scared of what I can do when pushed too far."

A chill ran down Damien's spine. He'd seen Takeda in action before. "Yeah... I know."

The conversation hung in the air, heavy with unspoken memories and half-formed fears.

Before they knew it, a day had flown by. The mismatched group of four found themselves packing up, ready to leave their woodland hideaway behind. Avery stood on the porch, drinking in the view one last time.

"Man, I'm gonna miss this place," he sighed, running his hand along the rough wooden railing.

Mina poked her head out the door. "You say that like we're never coming back."

"Are we?" Edward called his voice muffled as he struggled with an overstuffed duffel bag.

Takeda appeared, keys jingling in his hand. "Who knows? Life's full of surprises."

Damien leaned against the porch railing, a lopsided grin on his face. "Hey, don't be strangers, alright? This place is always open for you guys. Looks like the company's keeping me out here for a while, so..." He shrugged, trying to play it cool.

Takeda clapped him on the shoulder. "As if we need an invitation. We'll be treating this place like our own personal hideout before you know it."

Laughter filled the air as goodbyes were exchanged. Damien stood there, waving. He kept that smile plastered on his face until they disappeared around the bend.

The moment they were gone, Damien's expression changed. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by something cold and calculating.

"Come out," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Like a ghost materializing from thin air, a lanky figure emerged from behind a nearby tree. Without a word, the man handed Damien a sleek tablet. Their eyes never met as the stranger melted back into the shadows of the forest.

Damien flicked open the tablet, his face bathed in the blue glow of the screen. A single folder sat there, innocent-looking but loaded with secrets. He tapped it open, revealing two profiles: Avery, a.k.a. "Enigma," and Edward, "The Siren Song."

No surprise flickered across Damien's face. No shock, no anger – nothing. It was like he was scrolling through a boring social media feed instead of top-secret files.

"Huh," he muttered, his brow furrowing slightly. "Where's the girl? Different team, maybe? Or..." His voice trailed off, lost in thought.

Mina. She was the real puzzle here. That level of fighting skill? Definitely not normal. And if there were gaps in his intel... well, that made things a whole lot messier.

"Come here," Damien called out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Like she'd been waiting for her cue, a woman materialized from the shadows. Silent. Deadly.

Damien didn't even look up from the tablet. "The girl you saw earlier. Mina. I want to know everything. Who she is, who she's working for. Everything."

The woman nodded once, then vanished as quickly as she'd appeared.