7 • red or black •

Third District, Sector 4
Abandoned Police Academy
24 Days Until Zero Hour

The first two days turned out to be crucial in the adaptation process. It was their second sudden relocation into unfamiliar territory, and they were beginning to think they were becoming pros at quickly adapting to chaos.

The first night, they slept like babies. Soft mattresses, fluffy pillows, and—thankfully—no uninvited cockroach guests. They also woke up alive, which, considering the circumstances, was a victory in itself. No surprise organ harvesters or secret serial killers. At breakfast the next day, they met the rest of the crew.

Grom, a towering 32-year-old who looked a decade older, shared Montgomery’s build but had far more tattoos and battle scars than both Keith and Carter combined. According to Bureau files, “Grom” was really Charles Anderson—a former architecture student whose only connection to his major was learning how to demolish buildings of every kind. He trusted no one, except Ace, whom he treated like a brother. During one shootout, he’d literally shielded Ace with his body, earning the title of Ace’s personal guard among the Trouble Crew.

Then there was Yan Young—aka Mantis. Kelly couldn’t help but think of Kung Fu Panda’s bug-eyed character. He didn’t have green skin, but his gaunt, narrow face and thin mustache gave him a strange, ageless look. Barely 165 cm tall, he could squeeze through any gap and climb anything. At 16, he landed in juvie and escaped a year later. No one knew exactly what for, though rumor had it he slit someone’s throat with a DVD. He specialized in hacking, tuning up electronics—and chain-smoking Marlboros.

Toxi was already familiar—apparently a former wrestler who could take down a guy twice her size with one kick. And then Urs, who at first glance seemed to specialize in annoying everyone around him. His antics distracted from what really mattered—his hands, capable of picking any lock.

Only Ace remained—the centerpiece of this whole operation.

Urs and Toxita were beginning to worry, though the latter would rather walk barefoot on glass than show it. Ace was supposed to return the day after the new recruits arrived. “Business” had apparently gotten complicated. The Trouble Crew was getting uneasy too. What if “business” meant sniffing around the criminal underground for info on them? Modliszka had probably already run background checks on their aliases, but what if something hadn’t been properly scrubbed? What if Ace came back and, instead of a handshake, greeted them with a bullet to the head?

“Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels like we’re in way deeper shit than we thought,” Keith muttered, walking the edge of the property with Kelly.

They weren’t being held prisoner like with the Bureau—this place gave them almost total freedom. They could go into town, shop, or just wander. Still, Kelly once “accidentally” bumped into Mantis during a city stroll. He hadn’t expected her to catch him from behind, but she played it off casually—they were both just buying… pads. They never spoke about the mission indoors. Kelly had noticed every room had exactly one camera. The walls had ears. For any mission talk, they stepped outside. But even then, they stayed cautious.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Kelly replied as they neared a utility shed doubling as a garage. Grom was inside, tinkering with one of the parked jeeps.

“This Ace no-show thing is messing with me,” Montgomery admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

Kelly let out a snort and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Stop doom-spiraling. It’s not that bad.”

“Oh no. Kelly’s trying to be optimistic. That means it’s definitely bad,” he laughed under his breath.

“I’m a pessimist-realist. Shut it. The Bureau got us legit IDs, we’re fine.”

Montgomery snorted this time, leaning against a tree by the fence.

“Just like they guaranteed no competition?”

“I take it back.”

“Hey Montgomery! Come give me a hand!” Grom shouted from the garage, pointing a wrench in their direction. “Mr. Golden Hands, I need some muscle.”

“Coming!” Keith called back, accepting his unofficial side gig as a mechanic. “See you at lunch.”

Kelly watched him go, briefly observing as the two muscle-heads lifted an engine block back under the hood like it was nothing. With nothing interesting left to watch, she headed back toward the academy just as storm clouds started gathering overhead.

Spring was off to a glorious start—just like the mission.

It wasn’t just Montgomery getting bad vibes; they all secretly wondered when they’d wake up with a knife to the throat—if they woke up at all. That was the optimistic scenario.

Kelly shook off the thought. If they hadn’t been discovered yet, they probably wouldn’t be—unless they messed up. So far, they hadn’t. She reached the front steps and spotted Toxita sitting there, puffing lazily on a cigarette. The woman exhaled a stream of smoke in her direction and, staring out into space, patted the empty spot beside her.

Great. Girl talk?

Kelly sat down on a corner of the welcome mat, stretching her legs out. While Terrens rocked a latex mini-skirt and sheer tights in the barometric soup of spring air, Kelly still clung to her trusty denim jacket.

Toxi offered her a cigarette. She shook her head.

“Smart. Trash habit,” Toxi said, then immediately lit up again. Kelly wasn’t into vices—her mentor had drilled it into her early: a thief needed long legs and strong lungs. Experience had proven that rule more than once.

They sat in silence for a moment before Toxi spoke.

“So… how do you like the crew?” Her tone was neutral—neither friendly nor indifferent. Just… blank. Like she kinda cared, but mostly didn’t.

Kelly fished for a safe answer. Spontaneous small talk wasn’t her forte.

“I thought it’d be worse. You know, a bunch of guys under one roof usually spells trouble.”

Toxi let out a gravelly laugh—probably from years of smoking.

“Not as much as a bunch of chicks. That’s war,” she said flatly.

She stubbed out her cigarette.

“That’s why I wasn’t thrilled when the boys approved your app,” she added bluntly, not even looking at Kelly, who raised a brow at that.

“Urs insisted.”

Now both of Kelly’s brows shot up.

What the hell was that weasel planning?

He’d forgiven her way too easily. Anyone else would’ve wanted blood. But he extended a helping hand.

“Not gonna say anything?” Toxi looked at her sideways.

“What am I supposed to say?” Kelly muttered, staring at the broken front gate.

“How do you two know each other?” Toxi asked, leaning back on her palms.

“Urs didn’t spill?” Kelly deflected.

“He says there’s no pride in his past. Fucking philosopher.” Toxi snorted and flicked a strand of hair from her face—only for it to fall right back.

“Let me guess—thieving history?”

“Yeah.” Kelly kept it vague. So Urs hadn’t said what really happened. Probably didn’t want to bruise his pride. “We used to work together. Eventually went our separate ways.”

That was putting it very nicely.

They’d screwed him over, cashed out, and left him to take the fall. If he hadn’t mentioned it… he had a reason. And she probably didn’t want to know what it was.

Toxi nodded in silence, clearly drifting into her own thoughts. Then she stood and walked away without another word—like the whole conversation never happened.

Kelly let out a deep breath once she was alone. What the hell was that? A test? An attempt at bonding? Grom and Mantis were open books, easy to read from expressions and body language. Toxi was harder. Maybe because her face always looked like she wanted to punch someone.

Women could be each other’s worst enemies, and Kelly really didn’t want to get on her bad side. If she had to, she'd use Keith as a human shield. God only knew what Toxi could do with those long black nails… She sat there a little longer, scrolling through her phone. Surprisingly, the B-Team had let them keep them. Eventually, a gust of wind and the low grumble of distant thunder told her it was time to head inside. She pulled up her hood and turned toward the door.

She’d barely touched the handle when the sound of a gun being cocked behind her.

She froze.

"Who, the hell, you are?"