Chapter 13 Infiltration ( part 2)
Inside the House — Criminals’ Conversation
The voices drifted from deeper inside the house, echoing faintly down the rotting hallway. Rei crouched low, his phone pressed to his ear, listening intently.
“Tch, those assholes outside are always on edge,” a man grumbled, his voice coarse and gravel-thick—too many cigarettes, too many nights spent watching shadows.
“They’re just paranoid,” another replied, younger, more anxious. “After last week’s raid, can you blame them?”
“Paranoid?” The first man snorted. “They’re paid to stand there and look tough, not jump at every damn sound. That raid? That was nothing. Cops didn’t even get close.”
“Still, this place is untouchable,” a third voice chimed in, cocky and self-satisfied. “No one’s got the guts to come near it. Not the cops, not those vigilante freaks.”
“Untouchable, huh?” the second voice said, uncertain. “Then why’s the boss so twitchy? He’s been pacing all day, barking orders like we’re about to get hit.”
“Boss is always twitchy,” the first man said. “He’s got a lot riding on this. Moving that many girls isn’t easy. One mistake, and we’re all screwed.”
“Girls?” the nervous one asked, voice lowering. “I thought it was just… product. You know, the usual.”
The first man laughed—cold, sharp, humorless. “Product, sure. Call it what you want. Point is, shipment goes in two days. Buyer’s already waiting. Cops are sniffing around, so we can’t afford a single screw-up.”
“Relax,” the third man said lazily. “We’ve done this before. Keep the girls quiet, keep the guards alert, and we’re golden. Long as the cash flows, I’m good.”
“Cash flows, yeah,” the second muttered. “Still don’t like how many guards we’ve got outside. Feels like we’re asking for attention.”
“Attention?” the first snapped. “You want less security? Want some wannabe hero walking through the front door? Shut your damn mouth and do your job.”
The voices descended into petty insults and curses, the words overlapping as tempers flared.
Rei’s fingers curled tighter around his phone. His jaw locked. A slow, calculated smirk crept onto his lips.
So this was what they were.
Filth. Human traffickers—not just drugs or weapons, but people. Girls. Probably young. Probably terrified. Locked away somewhere like animals waiting for auction.
Rei’s stomach twisted—not with fear, but with cold, sharpened rage. He’d suspected. But hearing it confirmed? That lit a fire in his chest.
These weren’t just criminals.
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They were monsters.
And he now had all the confirmation he needed.
Time to act.
But not yet.
He needed a plan. A single mistake would cost his death.
Rei slipped deeper into the shadows, the hallway stretching ahead of him like a tunnel of quiet menace. Dim lights flickered overhead, and the air felt heavier, saturated with sweat, mildew, and something worse.
His grip on his phone tightened.
If I wait too long, I lose my advantage. But if I rush in... I could be overwhelmed. I can’t afford that—not tonight.
Rei exhaled slowly, silently. What’s the best move?
His eyes flicked toward the unconscious guard slumped in the storage room. Then to the hallway, where the monsters' voices still echoed.
But he already knew what was going to happen. He’d seen this moment a hundred times in his mind, played it out in every variation before stepping foot in this place. Every path. Every failure. Every possible outcome.
Rei didn’t believe in luck.
He believed in preparation.
---
Rei’s Monologue
He leaned back against the damp, peeling wall, body still but mind a storm.
This place... it’s worse than I thought.
Not just Aizawa. Not just a bad deal or dirty money.
They were trading lives.
Girls, trapped, silenced, awaiting transport like livestock. And these men—these cowards—laughed about it. They slept easy while others suffered.
He shut his eyes for a moment, letting the weight of the truth settle.
I could walk away. Call it in. Let the cops handle it.
But the cops were slow. Some were bought. Some didn’t care.
By the time they show up... the girls would be gone.
No.
This ends tonight.
His fingers brushed the syringe in his pocket, then the blade strapped to his thigh.
I’m not a hero. Never have been.
Heroes don’t stalk shadows. Don’t break necks without hesitation.
But he wasn’t a monster either.
They were.
And monsters don’t get to walk away.
He opened his eyes, gaze sharp, predatory.
Fifteen to twenty-four people. Five outside. At least three in the room ahead. Armed. Aizawa deeper in. Girls…. Out of sight. Hidden.
I take out the ones in the next room first—quiet, if I can. Then move deeper. Locate Aizawa. Locate the girls. I’ve got ten minutes before the guards outside notice something’s off.
He glanced down at his phone—the hacked feed still active.
I could cut their comms. Leave them blind.
But that might tip them off too soon.
Better to keep the illusion alive. Let them think everything’s normal.
Move fast.
Strike hard.
Don’t stop.
The smirk returned, cold and lethal.
They thought this place was untouchable.
They were about to learn just how wrong they were.
--
The house was a decaying maze of filth and forgotten lives. Every room Rei passed told a story of neglect. The hallway was narrow, its walls stained yellow with age, streaked with grime and water damage.
Mold bloomed in the corners, a sickly green glow under the flickering light of a cracked ceiling bulb. The floorboards groaned with every careful step, forcing Rei to test each one before placing his weight.
The air was thick. Stale. Reeking of mildew, cigarettes, sweat—and something darker. Desperation clung to the walls like smoke.
Doors lined the hallway. Most were shut. Some gaped open like broken mouths.
One revealed a storage room, crates stacked to the ceiling. Their contents hidden, but their silence loud.
Another held only a chair.
A single, splintered chair.
Its arms scratched. Stained.
A length of rope coiled beside it like a sleeping serpent.
Rei stared at it for a moment, jaw tight.
He didn’t need to imagine what it was for.
Further in, the hallway opened into what might’ve once been a living space. Now it was a dump of broken comforts—an ash-covered table surrounded by discarded beer bottles, torn playing cards scattered across its surface like fallen leaves.
A sagging couch slumped nearby, its stuffing spilling out like entrails. From the corner, a radio hissed softly, spitting static between fragments of music and garbled voices.
The criminals’ voices were louder here, coming from a door just ahead. Their laughter carried through the thin walls—careless, mocking.
Rei pressed himself against the doorway and listened, eyes sweeping the filth around him.
This wasn’t just a hideout.
It was a prison.
A factory.
A graveyard of innocence.
Every crack in the wall.
Every rusted stain on the floor.
Every creak in the air...
They all whispered one thing:
Suffering.
And the men inside?
They laughed.
As if none of it mattered.
So.. Even if I kill them . It wouldn't matter ,right?
You’re already in this game
Don’t look away now.
You’re here—standing in this hallway with me.
You smell the rot.
Feel the tension in the air.
Hear their laughter through the walls.
You heard what they said. You know what they’re doing.
So tell me…
What would you do?
Call the cops?
Pray someone else steps in?
Hope justice shows up with a badge and a conscience?
That’s not how this world works.
You’re in my world now.
And in this world, justice doesn’t knock on the door.
It slips through the shadows.
It listens.
It waits.
And when the time is right…
It strikes.
So don’t pretend you’re just a bystander.
Not anymore.
You're here—watching through my eyes, breathing in my silence.
This isn’t just my choice.
It’s ours..
U can ... And u will.
