Autxmn, Conor, and Cullian all entered the bare apartment. The apartment was nothing more than a shell. Dim light from a single bulb flickered faintly, casting shadows on the grimy walls. The only furnishings within the place were a flatscreen TV sat directly on the floor, flickering static, and a stained mattress lay discarded in the corner, barely masking the underlying concrete. The place reeked of mildew.

  The studio apartment had been purchased a while earlier for one reason and one reason alone.

  Autxmn grabbed the stained mattress, flipping it up, revealing a rocket launcher and two rockets under it. The rockets were large and covered with moving LED light strips. The once-original design had been clearly modified by a third party. The larger frame and the welding marks were evidence of that.

  Cullian, meanwhile, approached the lone closet. With a grunt, he pulled out several heavy cases and set them on the floor. Flipping them open, he revealed an arsenal of guns.

  From the floorboards, another box emerged after Cullian stomped through the weak planks. Inside were stacks of ammunition.

  "I call the RPG!" Autxmn said gleefully, barely containing his excitement. He hoisted the launcher onto his shoulder and peered through the viewfinder, aiming at Conor, who picked up a massive black plastic box about the size of a treasure chest. Several lines of duct tape were wrapped around it, with wires sticking out from cracks. He placed it in the middle of the room, next to all the other equipment. "Yoooo, what's that?" Autxmn's eyes lit up.

  "This thing" He patted the box "is 'bout to jam everyone's phones and comms and shit for like the next twelve hours."

  "Where do we gotta put it?" Culian asked.

  "The guy that made it said this shit had some range. He was tellin' me that as long as this is on the property, it'll work." He picked up a drum-mag from the box of ammo, inspecting it.

  "That's what's up."

  "We got anything stronger than this shit?" Conor asked Culian, who shrugged. "Tonight, I'm tryna make a statement. Finna act up. Generational crash out. This shit ain't it." He looked over at Autxmn as he was attempting to load the rocket launcher. "Yo, put that down! You 'bout to nuke this place. I ain't fast enough to save all of us."

  "I like what we got," Culian said. "It's been a while since I used guns anyway. I'll be a bit outta practice. You ever go to do some shit that you haven't done in a while, and then the next day you wake up sore as fuck in the weirdest places, thinking like, 'Damn, am I washed?'"

  "Hey, Conor." Autxmn pointed at his crested hand. "Of all our abilities, which one is the strongest?"

  For a second, it looked like he was going to be honest, but instead, "Mine. Of course, it's mine," Conor said, almost annoyed. "But Culian, you rely on your energy too much. You're gonna fuck around one day using energy and get the real ops on your ass."

  Culian scoffed. "What 'real ops?' BTB ain't shit. Why'd they care anyway?"

  "Nah, not them. Those ones that live up in that colony," he turned to Autxmn, "Bruh, that's why I'm always tellin' you to be careful using your energy out in the open and shit. You can get away with it, but if something big happens they'll just send someone from one of those colonies to come and murk you. They don't play. If the government can't kill you, they will."

  "Sooo," Autxmn said. "Then how are we going to do this?"

  "Easy." Conor's grin revealed his diamond teeth. "We leave no witnesses."

  "Hahaha!" Autxmn giggled with delight.

  Zheanni sat at a small table inside a penthouse, looking out over the glowing city of Apris below. Using the corner of her phone, she crushed several pills that were held in a ziplock bag. She quickly emptied it, using a Stygian Tower ticket to form the powder into several lines, her movements practiced and precise. The tickets allowed for entrance and the purchase of items. One may have bodyguards accompanying them, but they won't be able to participate.

  The bedroom door was open so Zheanni could see inside. Muffled whimpers emanated from several blindfolded men. Their wrists and ankles were bound tightly, their attempts to struggle futile. Kholwa sat quietly in a corner, watching over them.

  At the moment, both Zheanni and Kholwa were sitting in a penthouse being rented by one of the tied-up men. Zheanni glanced at the door, seeing Bryck walk in.

  "Damn," Bryck said, glancing into the bedroom. "All you did was tie them up? You didn't beat their ass or anything?"

  "Yeah," Zheanni chuckled. "They thought they were gonna have us tonight." Both Kholwa and Zheanni started cracking up. "They goofy as hell. But I got they tickets." She held up four tickets. "You're gonna come with us or go with Conor?"

  "I'll come with y'all," Bryck said. "I think Wyrryr is goin' with them tho. They just finna slide on the whole place."

  "Aigh't bet," Zheanni tossed a ticket to both Kholwa and Bryck. She gestured to the table, "You want some?"

  "Nah, you know I'm off that."

  Zheanni shrugged, grabbing a metal straw and snorting a line. "We're going now, then. I wanna be inside before they start." She gestured for them to follow as

  As they were leaving, Kholwa stopped just before the penthouse door closed. "What about them?"

  "Who cares?" Zheanni put her foot on the door, forcing it closed.

  The roads leading to Stygian Tower were eerily empty. Concrete barricades and tall walls encased the area, creating a secure perimeter. Outside the barricades, the party raged and the streets were alive with chaos—music, shouting, and flashing lights.

  If one wanted to go to Stygian Tower that night, they'd have to follow a specific route, going through a single checkpoint.

  Though there was a blacklist of certain people and families, as long as you had a ticket, they wouldn't check your identity. Because of the nature of the event, anonymity was respected, so those who chose to wear masks or disguises wouldn't be bothered. After all, who would be stupid or crazy enough to want to walk into a lion's den?

  The security guard stepped toward the Rolls-Royce. He peered inside, past the driver, who was a woman with pink hair and unquestionably enhanced lips, and saw the two women in the back. Both sat quietly, looking at him expectantly. Their brown eyes stood wide under their dark hijabs and burkas.

  He scanned the code on the tickets, confirming they were authentic. A green light clicked on above them, and the gate opened. "You're good," the guard nodded, waving them through.

  As the car passed the gates, Zheanni ripped off her hijab, tossing it onto the seat beside her. “Damn, that was hot,” she muttered, fanning herself. She leaned forward, staring at Stygian Tower. Up close, it looked a lot less erect, almost janky, as if not every floor was the same width or height.

  "Come, you two. Sit." Olivia ordered, waving down a passing waiter and asking for two more chairs.

  Alder looked at Olivia, annoyed, hissing into her ear, "Sitting with us? Really? Look around!"

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  "It's not like they'll need to actually do anything," She hissed back. "It's once we leave this tower, that's when we'll need them."

  "I don't care about the protection. It's undignified," he huffed, sitting back in his chair. "Whatever, I'm just waiting till my floor opens," he checked his watch for the fifth time in under five minutes.

  Mitani stared hungrily at the barely-nibbled food sitting on Olivia's plate. The air current in the room pulled a cruel joke and directed the smell right into his nostrils. 'Blue Lobster, with a side of Espuma, and I think that's Foie gras as well! All made by The Chef and The Staff. Each one of those people has basically given their lives to that guy, been cooking under him for over a decade, bare minimum. They all live together in a compound in the desert and cook all day. When they interview them, they revere him as if he's their God. I heard the only people who get to taste his cooking are those who he specifically invites. Usually, celebrities for his show. The fact that he's all the way out here means the people who own this tower must've gone bankrupt for this. To a certain extent, people are probably right when they say he's running a cult, but eh, you gotta do what you gotta do to create something badass!' He turned to Zoe, "What was that about?"

  "What are you talking about?" She asked.

  "That old lady, Frau, and her black boyfriend. When you asked her about her sex life." He started giggling uncontrollably.

  Zoe shrugged sheepishly, muttering, "I was just trying to make conversation."

  "You freakin' kill me sometimes, Zoe."

  "You look plenty alive to me."

  "You know what you're gonna get?" Mitani asked Ayla. "Oh, you're getting that mummy, right?" She looked solemnly at her phone. Ethan hadn't texted her since she had last seen him. Mitani noticed she'd been unusually quiet.

  "I don't care about that anymore," Ayla muttered, distracted.

  "We," Alder said forcefully, placing his arm around Ayla, "are gonna win. And then I also just decided I'm gonna buy a few paintings. Indulge in the fine arts."

  "You're into art?" Mitani raised an eyebrow.

  "No."

  "Then wh-"

  "Taxes." Ayla said bluntly, not looking up from her phone.

  "Oohhh," Mitani nodded.

  "Taxes?" Zoe gave her a confused look. "Why would paintings have anything-"

  "Zoe," Olivia interrupted, "Despite your languid appearance, you're so adorable, but naivete is hideous on you," Olivia gave a fake smile, stretching out her arm, patting Zoe's cheek with a net-gloved hand, who stiffened uncomfortably as she did so. This went unnoticed. "Honestly, dear, do you think anyone spends millions because they like a sketch?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes. In that moment, her attention was drawn elsewhere—towards a young woman clutching an expensive bottle of alcohol, clumsily making her way to a table. Seemingly tripping over nothing, she tumbled to the ground.

  Gemo followed her gaze, "Ouch. She's gonna feel that in the morning."

  "She looks too familiar," Olivia mused.

  "Dr.Allen's daughter," Ayla said, never looking up from her phone.

  "Oh my, just like her mother." Olivia waved to a couple across the room. She motioned to a nearby waiter, gesturing for him to bring the same top-shelf bottle the woman had. "I absolutely must have what she's having."

  "My phone just lost all signal," Ayla grumbled, angrily shoving it in her pocket with a huff.

  Zoe stared at the table contemplatively, "I don't think I've ever thought about it. If I had the money, certain art pieces would definitely be worth it to me. Plus, it's not a liability like a car would be."

  "Okay," Alder said, stepping in. "If I buy a painting for ten million and donate that to a museum which appraises the piece at fifty million, I get a fifty million dollar tax credit against the taxes I owe. See how that works?" He nodded toward the direction of another table subtly, "Them over there…They're some kinda mafia. Those types use art for money laundering."

  "Damn, that's smart," Mitani nodded.

  "This is…legal in your country?" Zoe asked, hesitantly. 'Does anyone here appreciate anything?'

  "My country? America? Of course, it is. Even if it wasn't, the people that would lock me up for it are here doing the same thing, so I think I'm good."

  Olivia pointed to both Mitani and Zoe, "You two, this is your first time at a place like this. Why don't you look around? Buy something while you're here. This is your night to profligate."

  "We don't have tickets," Mitani said, confused.

  "Technically, no, but who knows, maybe they won't check if you have a ticket or not. They're told to not sell to you if you don't show them your ticket, but, pshh. Hell, if there's an issue, they can talk to me. There's got to be something you want here," a devilishly mischievous look crossed her face, "Hell, check out the basement even."

  Bothe Gemo and Mitani perked up when they heard that. "The basement?" They both asked.

  "Don't even get into it," Alder put a stop to it, holding up his hand and taking a sip of some champagne. "I've seen some stuff in my day, but that is some seriously depraved shit goin' on down there. Don't even speak it into existence."

  "Woah!" Zoe's eyes widened, and she stood up abruptly, her chair screeching back on the floor. Everyone looked at her in shock. She spoke quickly, but not really to any one of them at the table, but more like she were thinking out loud, "This is a total longshot, but if any place had the coins of Janus, it'd probably be here. Alder said they had the Angel's Ring, so the odds aren't Zero. I remember Jashin saying I can only travel to a place and not a person, but this would still I could just buy one!"

  Alder squinted at her, confused, "Are you…referencing a game or a movie?" He looked at Olivia for help, but she looked just as lost. But she quickly became unbothered, reaching for the luxury bottle the waiter was handing her. Large gems clinked in the bottom of the bottle as she swished it around, totally mesmerized.

  "No, this is real life."

  "Sit your weird-ass down," Gemo said.

  "I-" Zoe stopped, looking around as all of Stygian Tower's security staff got to their feet and either walked to a door or paced the room.

  Autxmn's body was halfway out the window of the Cyber Truck, going over one hundred miles per hour, speeding through a massive hole in one of the barricades that surrounded Stygian Tower. A wild grin that stretched ear to ear was plastered on his face.

  Colored smoke billowed from the Cyber Truck's wheels.

  Not far behind, several other sports cars followed.

  A guard who had been walking around the perimeter quickly called in to alert the security force.

  The cars split, each taking a different route toward the tower.

  The Lamborghini kept going straight. Conor cranked the volume to the max, and the pedal hit the floor, unleashing a thunderous roar from the engine. The surroundings blurred as the speedometer edged towards its limit.

  Like white blood cells responding to an infection, the guards despatched from Stygian Tower and quickly began to close in. The attack began.