More Misunderstanding.

James stepped out of his car, the night air crisp against his skin. He barely had time to adjust his coat before his driver, Hans, spoke from behind the wheel.

"They're sleeper agents," Hans muttered, his sharp eyes scanning the street. "Jogger at two o'clock, dog walker by the lamppost, couple arguing near the corner—all staged."

James let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Of course they are."

What the hell are they doing here? he thought, his heart rate quickening as a spike of anxiety hit him. Could this all be a trap?

Without another word, James extended his hand toward Hans. The driver immediately pulled a compact pistol from his coat and handed it over without hesitation.

"Should I go in with you?" Hans asked.

James tucked the gun into his jacket and smirked. "No, it'll be fine."

This was the first time James had handled a real gun. He'd never killed anyone, but he knew one thing for certain—if it came down to it, he wasn't going to die easily. At least, that's what he thought.

But the most important question remained: Why are there so many agents here?

And the answer, well, it was miles away.

Cerberus Maximum Security Prison

"Prisoner 3245, Augustus Lucian." The warden began, placing his feet on the desk casually. "I've got some bad news for you." He leaned forward, adjusting the cigar in his mouth. "Your lawyer, Legber Hans, the Police found his head... left on his office chair."

"What terrifying news, sir. I liked him very much."

"Yeah, I thought so." The warden replied, unimpressed. He leaned back in his chair, smoke curling around him as he continued. "You won't be seeing daylight for the next month, but before that you have to meet with a National Security Bureau agent." 

He took a slow drag of his cigar, releasing the smoke lazily before dismissing Lucian with a wave.

As they passed by narrow windows, Luican caught a glimpse of the outside. 

A beautiful starry night.

Finally, they reached the visiting room. A guard pulled open the door, and they guided him inside, the chains rattling with each step. Across the table sat a woman, dressed neatly in a blouse and jacket, her hair pulled back. A stack of papers lay in front of her, and she was looking down at one, her pen in hand.

When she looked up and saw him, her expression changed. For a brief moment, worry and tension flickered in her eyes. She quickly put the pen down and straightened, her fingers tensing a bit as she watched him sit. Luican looked at her face, wondering what she had come here to say especially this late in the night

"I would like to speak with him privately."

"If anything happens, push the button, and we will come." The guard instructed, pointing out a small, red button and the heavy door closed.

The woman glanced briefly at the red button on the table, then back at Lucian, her face tightening as if gathering her thoughts.

"I'm a agent of the National Security Bureau, Mr. Lucian. So—"

"Lucian. Just call me Lucian." He interrupted, lifting his hand and placing it flat on the table.

"Alright, Lucian. Since you're in quite a tight spot, there's really only one option left, and that is—"

"I've already been sentenced." He began, his gaze fixed on the woman. "I've been given double life sentences, so I don't understand why you need to talk to me this late."

The woman placed her hands on the stack of documents that were scattered across the table, leaning forward slightly as she spoke again.

"First-degree murder. You've ordered the deaths of countless people,rivals, traitors, and anyone who crossed you. You've made a habit of killing people to maintain your power, leaving bodies behind like they didn't matter."

Lucian sat still, his jaw tightening as the agent continued.

"Then there's the drugs. You flooded the streets with them, causing overdoses, ruining lives."

He didn't move, just listened

"You kidnapped people. Destroyed families. And you built an army of killers who did your dirty work. Murder-for-hire, whenever you needed someone to vanish. You even dealt in military-grade weapons, guns, bombs, whatever it took to keep control. You took what you wanted, no matter the cost."

She leaned in, her voice lowering to a more serious tone.

"You've got a choice. We want to tear the system apart and you can help us."

Lucian leaned back in his chair, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face.

"Which district did you grow up in, Miss?" He asked casually, his voice smooth, almost mocking.

The agent blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the question. She hesitated, trying to read him, but she couldn't quite place the underlying tone in his voice. "First District."

Lucian smiled wider, his lips curling as if savoring the irony of the moment. 

"The First District..." He muttered, almost as if testing the words on his tongue. "The rich, the privileged."

He leaned forward then, his posture shifting, his arms resting on the table. His voice dropped, becoming more menacing, more calculated.

"You have no idea what it's like down there, do you? To grow up where everything's stacked against you, where survival isn't a choice, it's the only damn option."

She met his eyes again, her lips pressed tight, but James wasn't finished.

"You've lived in the First, where everything is shiny and polished, where people wear their wealth like armor. But let me tell you something." His voice was low now, almost a whisper, but the edge was unmistakable. "In the Eighth District where I grew up the people starve, and the only thing that matters is who's got the power to make it another day."

The agent didn't speak. She couldn't. His words weren't just an accusation, they were a brutal truth she had never experienced, one she could never understand in her privileged, sheltered life.

"You know. "People like you, the ones born with a silver spoon in their ass, they don't get it. They never will. You've got all the doors open for you, everything handed to you on a damn platter. But for people like me, like those in the Eighth? There are no doors, only walls. The system is stacked to keep us down, to make sure we never rise above the dirt."

He sat back again, his gaze cold, but his words hung in the air like a weight.

"You've never had to fight for anything, Miss. You've never had to worry about where your next meal is coming from or whether you'll survive the night. You've never been on the wrong side of the law, where the system isn't a safety net, but a trap. You can't even imagine it."

Lucian paused for a moment, watching her closely, and for the first time, the woman saw the flicker of something raw in his eyes. It was a fire, one that had been stoked by years of struggle, by the relentless grind of life in a world that never cared.

"The thing is, Miss...you live in a world where a person's worth is decided by how much money they've got, how clean their clothes are, how high their family name stands. People like me, though? We're worth nothing. We're just numbers, just another lost soul in the gutter."

Lucian sat back again, the smirk returning to his face.

 "You're sitting here, all polished and primed to 'help' me, but you don't even understand the world I've lived in. The way things work down there. You don't even know what it's like to fight for survival."

In that moment, the difference between their lives was as clear as day and night, and Lucian knew she would never truly understand what it meant to come from the streets, to rise from the dirt with nothing but blood and grit.

The agent took a slow breath, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed James' words. She leaned forward, her gaze sharp and calculating, as if trying to piece together the puzzle that was Augustus Lucian

"So." She started, her voice measured, "that's why you chose the wealthier districts like the Fourth, Third, Second, and First? Because you were jealous of those of us who lived better?"

"Jealous?" He repeated, his voice cold but laced with an almost bitter amusement. "No, Miss. I wasn't jealous. I knew what I was doing." His smile faded into something darker, more intense. "I built my empire in those districts because I wanted to show them what real wealth and real power mean. I wanted to be the one they feared, the one they couldn't ignore. I wanted to dominate. I wanted more than what you've got. More than a comfortable life. I wanted to be the ruler, to show everyone that power doesn't come from where you're born, it comes from what you can take, what you're willing to sacrifice, and how much you're willing to bleed for it."

Lucian's expression darkened further as he leaned forward, locking his eyes on hers.

"I wasn't just building an empire, I was building a legacy. I didn't care if it came at the expense of those in your shiny districts. You think you know wealth? You think you know power? It's not the money and the fancy clothes, it's the fear, the respect, the control you hold over everyone else. It's the ability to crush your enemies and make them beg for mercy, knowing you don't have to show any."

"And that's all in the past, you know—slowly dying in a dark cell for the rest of your life if you don't help me."

She placed her hands on top of each other, visibly shaking a bit, then looked directly into his eyes.

"James Bellini."

As the name left her mouth, Lucian tensed up, his eyes widening.

"If you tell me everything you know about that man, your sentence will be significantly reduced. You might even get out before the age of 60. Sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?" She smirked at him.

Lucian burst into hysterical laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face.

"Did I say something funny?" She asked, clenching his fists.

"Ahhhh," Lucian tilted his head back, staring at the floor while chuckling.

"James Bellini is having dinner with Victor Moretti as we speak. The NSB could raid them at any moment—they just need solid proof. Proof that you can provide us," the woman leaned forward, gripping her hands tighter as she stared straight into Lucian's eyes. "Tell me what you know."

"James made me laugh so hard right before I got arrested," Lucian said, still chuckling. "'What's the difference between the mafia and the government? One of them is legal.'"

He kept laughing, but the woman wasn't amused. She kicked the chair and stood up.

"Tell me what you know about that man!" She shouted.

Lucian stopped laughing and slowly rose from his seat.

"He knew I was going to be arrested," he said, his voice calmer. "He actually told me four days before it happened. He said the NSB was coming for me. That there was a rat in my family."

He took a step closer to the woman.

"You know, I laughed at him. I got pissed off. This fucking guy, telling me that someone in my own family is a rat. And then he looks me dead in the eye and says, 'Should we flip a coin?'"

Lucian smirked, shaking his head.

"I asked him, 'What's the bet?' And he says, 'If it lands on heads, I kill myself. If it lands on tails, I tell you who the rat is.'"

He chuckled darkly.

"I was dumbfounded. Who the hell makes a bet like that? His own life, over something that didn't even matter to him. We never worked together, we barely knew each other. That was only the third time we met."

Lucian exhaled sharply, almost laughing again.

"And then he flipped it. Before I could even say a word."

"There's no way—"

He laughed even harder seeing the agent's reaction, her eyes full of fear.

"And you and your little agency thought I'd never figure out who the rat was. You really thought you were masterminds."

Lucian stepped closer, leaning in until his lips were near her ear.

"But, miss," he whispered, "I know exactly every detail of your entire operation. Every single person involved. The agents. Their families. And the snitches."

The woman swallowed hard, her breath hitching for just a moment. She had been trained to handle pressure, to maintain control no matter the situation—but Lucian's words put fear into heart.

She took a step back, forcing herself to regain composure. "You're bluffing," she said, her voice steady but lacking its usual authority.

Lucian smirked. "Am I?" His eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted his head. "Go ahead, call my bluff. But tell me, Agent, would you like me to start naming names? Or maybe… giving addresses?"

She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to lash out. This was wrong. He wasn't supposed to know this much.

"How?" She finally asked.

Lucian chuckled. "Ah, now you're asking the right questions." He stepped as close as his chains would allow, forcing her to meet his gaze. "James Bellini didn't just flip a coin that day. He played you all. Every last one of you."

Her stomach twisted into knots. "That's impossible. He was under surveillance the entire time—"

Lucian clicked his tongue. "And yet, here I am, telling you things I shouldn't know." He leaned back slightly, giving her a knowing look. "So tell me, Agent… What do you think that means?"

Her mind raced. If what he was saying was true, if Bellini had really known everything beforehand, then that meant—

She felt her pulse quicken.

"There's a leak," she whispered.

"Bingo."

Her fingers twitched at her side, her training screaming at her to regain control of the situation, but the sinking feeling in her gut told her she was already too late.

"A leak…" she repeated.

Lucian let out a low chuckle, tilting his head as he watched her struggle to piece it together. "Not just a leak, Agent. A flood."

She clenched her jaw. "You're lying."

Lucian sighed, shaking his head. "Why do people always say that when they're scared?" He took a step forward, the chains rattling as he tested their limits. "James Bellini knew everything—your agents, your operations, even the exact moment you'd come knocking on my door."

Her breath hitched.

Lucian smirked, watching the cracks form in her confidence. "Tell me, do you really think your precious agency can protect you when the floodgates burst open?"

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but she refused to let him see any hesitation. "You're bluffing," she said again, but this time, even she could hear the doubt creeping in.

Lucian grinned, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Then why are you shaking?"

She exhaled sharply and stepped back. She needed to think. She needed to regain control. Protocol, stick to protocol. But how could she, when everything she thought she knew was slipping through her fingers?

Lucian's smirk widened as he watched the conflict in her eyes. "Here's what's going to happen," he said smoothly. "You're going to walk out of this room. You're going to report back to your superiors. And you're going to wonder… who's listening?"

She stiffened.

"Who's feeding me everything I need?" he continued. "Who in your ranks is whispering secrets into my ear?"

The woman inhaled slowly, forcing herself to keep her expression blank.

Lucian leaned back, satisfied. "And the best part? You won't trust anyone. You'll look at every single one of your colleagues and wonder— is it them?" He tilted his head. "Or maybe it's the person you trust the most."

Her blood ran cold.

Lucian chuckled darkly. "Now, tell me, Agent… how do you win a game when you don't even know who your opponent is?"

She had to get out of here. Now.

Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel and marched toward the door. But just as she reached for the handle, Lucian called after her.

"Oh, and Agent?"

She hesitated.

"Tell your boss I said hi.".

The door slammed behind her, but Lucian just laughed, the sound low and mocking as it echoed through the interrogation room. 

He closed his eyes for a second, then exhaled through his nose, amusement still tugging at his lips.

"James warned you people," he muttered, shaking his head. "Told you not to fuck with him."

The woman, just outside the door, froze.

"But you didn't listen, did you?" He let out a soft chuckle. "You thought he was just another name on your list, another piece on your little board. But James Bellini? He doesn't play the game."

The woman's hands clenched into fists.

Lucian smirked, feeling her hesitation even through the walls. "You don't get it yet, do you? Every move you made—every step your agency took—James already knew. Hell, he probably knew before you even planned it."

Silence.

Then, after a long pause, he heard her footsteps retreating down the hall. Fast.

Lucian chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Too late for that now."

"Hic!" James paused, then smirked. "Heh, someone must be thinking about me." Shaking his head, he knocked on the door.