Interference

The cab rolled to a halt at the edge of the South Calumet Salvage Yard, its headlights barely illuminating the overgrown weeds and piles of rusted metal scattered beyond the cracked asphalt.

The driver glanced at Dylan through the rearview mirror.

"This is the place, right?" the driver asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Dylan nodded, slipping a few crisp bills into the man's hand. Then, with a smile that radiated effortless charm, he leaned forward.

"Listen," Dylan said, his tone smooth yet firm. "Do me a favor and keep this little trip between us. It's nothing shady, just… personal business. I'd hate for it to get around, you know?"

{Charm used}

{-1 DF}

{16/20}

"Don't worry, pal. My lips are sealed. I didn't even see you tonight." The driver chuckled, pocketing the cash.

"Appreciate it." Dylan flashed one last smile before stepping out into the cool night air.

He watched as the cab's taillights disappeared into the darkness moments later.

{Someone has gotten addicted to charming everyone he meets.} Lich accused Dylan, but he simply rolled his eyes.

"It makes life a lot simpler." Dylan shrugged unrepentantly.

He surveyed his surroundings, noting the faint hum of distant traffic and the eerie silence that enveloped the area.

The Salvage Yard stretched out before him, a maze of scrap heaps and neglected equipment. Beyond it was the silhouette of the abandoned steelworks, where the bartender was hiding.

Dylan shoved his hands into his pocket due to the chilly winds of the night, he regretted not bringing a coat.

"Well, here goes nothing." Dylan huffed, his face slightly pale.

The journey wasn't straightforward. Security cameras surrounded the perimeter of the salvage yard, some functional, others hanging limp from their mounts.

Dylan crouched low, moving through the shadows and using the natural cover of the towering piles of scrap metal to stay out of sight.

He timed his movements carefully, pausing when a camera panned too close and darting forward when it swung away.

Reaching the edge of the yard, he found a narrow, unlit path leading toward the steelworks. The uneven ground was littered with debris, and Dylan's footsteps were muffled by the thick layer of dirt and weeds.

As he neared the steelworks, he spotted a broken chain-link fence that provided easy access to the complex.

Slipping through the gap, he was greeted by the faint creak of rusted metal swaying in the breeze. His gaze fixated on the building looming ahead, its broken windows like dark eyes watching his every move.

Dylan scanned the area, noting the strategically placed floodlights near the steelworks that could easily expose him.

He kept to the shadows, hugging the sides of abandoned machinery and ducking behind pillars of twisted steel.

Clank!

A distant clatter echoed through the night, likely a stray animal rummaging through the scrapyard, but it put him on edge nonetheless.

'Fucking rats.' Dylan cursed, his heart pounding fast.

{What are you going to do, charm it too?}

'Fuck you.' Dylan rolled his eyes.

He reached the base of the steelworks, crouching near a crumbling wall. The place reeked of decay, the air damp and heavy.

From this vantage point, he could see the faint glow of a fire flickering through a crack in one of the lower-level windows.

The bartender, Andre Lawson, was inside.

Dylan was about to make a move when he heard something; the distant rumble of engines.

He turned his head sharply toward the sound. Headlights cut through the darkness, growing brighter as three black SUVs rolled onto the property. They came to a stop near the side of the steelworks, their doors opening in near unison.

From his hidden vantage point, Dylan spotted several figures stepping out. At the forefront was a figure he recognized through the recovered CCTV footage, the owner of the Velvet Viper Club!

A tall bald man with the build of a Hercules even though he was over 50.

{Steroids really work like magic.} Lich chuckled

Trailing the man were three burly men, all armed, their expressions cold.

"Why now?" Dylan muttered under his breath, shifting to a better position.

Moments later, the steelworks' door creaked open, and Andre Lawson stepped out.

"What's the plan?" Andre asked as he approached the group.

The club owner glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning the area before he spoke.

"We're getting you out tonight. State lines. You'll lie low until this heat dies down. I've already arranged a safe house." he said, his voice hoarse.

Andre nodded, rubbing his hands nervously.

"Good. I can't sleep in this shithole for another night." Andre let out a sigh of relief.

Dylan's jaw tightened as he heard his name, but he stayed perfectly still, letting the shadows conceal him.

The men discussed logistics, their voices low. Then, as if on cue, the group began moving toward the SUVs. Andre walked in the center, the armed men flanking him, with the club owner leading the way.

Dylan's heart raced. He had one shot to stop this before Andre slipped away for good. If he stayed silent now, he may never get the chance to get his revenge.

{What will you do?} Lich chuckled. {You came for one body, now you have at least five. Can you carry the weight of that decision?}

Dylan's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching tight as he felt hesitant to act.

'I already killed two... Adding two more doesn't mean anything, right?' He mumbled, almost as if he was trying to convince himself.

{Does it matter? They are all from the same gang.}

{What stops them from coming at you again?}

{Can you sleep at night, knowing this damned bartender is walking free?}

{You were sure of yourself minutes ago, so why the hell are you hesitating now?}

Lich's voice bombarded Dylan's head, causing him to grab his head while he staggered out from the shadows. The gravel crunched beneath his feet, drawing every head in his direction.

The group froze, their hands instinctively reaching for weapons. Their gaze widened in shock as a figure staggered forward, veins bulging all over his body and his face deadly pale.