Later that night, Youri and Six returned to the same alleyway where they had met Barnaby before. The narrow passage was swallowed by shadow, the brick walls damp and cold to the touch. From the darkness, a figure slowly emerged—both hands tucked into his pockets, a cigarette glowing faintly between his lips. It was Barnaby.
This time, a worn backpack hung from his shoulder. As he approached, a thin smile crept across his face."Nice. You made it," Barnaby said casually.
He swung the backpack off his shoulder and tossed it at Youri's feet. It hit the ground with a dull, heavy thud.
"That's the product I need you to move tonight."
Youri crouched, unzipped the bag, and froze. Inside were far more packages than before—neatly packed, identical, unmistakable. His stomach tightened. He looked back up at Barnaby, disbelief clear in his eyes.
"How are we supposed to move this much?" Youri asked.
Barnaby took a slow drag from his cigarette and shrugged. "That's a you problem."
He exhaled smoke and continued, "Once you're done, meet me back at the motel. When I get my money, you get paid too. Understand?"
Youri and Six exchanged a glance, suspicion and resentment burning in their eyes. Neither of them answered.
Barnaby smiled wider, reading their silence. "Good. Then we're all set."
He turned and began walking back into the alley's shadows. After a few steps, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
"Oh—and one more thing," he said lightly. "Don't try to cheat me out of my money. Trust me when I say this… you'd wish you were never born."
With that, Barnaby disappeared into the darkness, leaving Youri and Six alone with the heavy bag at their feet.
Youri clenched his jaw as Barnaby's footsteps faded into the darkness. The alley felt tighter now, the brick walls pressing in as if they had ears. Neon light from the distant market flickered across the backpack at Youri's feet, making the zipper glint like a warning.
Youri slowly zipped the bag shut and looked at Six. "Did you hear that?" he whispered. "He didn't even pretend this time."
Six crouched, lifting the backpack slightly and grunting under its weight. He looked up at Youri and let out a low, uneasy roar.
"Yeah," Youri muttered. "Way more than before."
They moved deeper into the clocked market, splitting again like Barnaby had instructed. The night was alive—too alive. Music pulsed from hidden speakers, vendors shouted in half a dozen languages, and strangers brushed past without ever meeting their eyes. Every face felt like a threat. Every shadow felt like it was following them.
Youri took his corner near a flickering holo-sign advertising cheap cybernetic implants. He leaned against the wall, forcing himself to breathe normally. One by one, people approached—quick glances, short nods, money exchanged for sealed white bags. No words. No names. Just transactions.
Each sale made Youri's stomach twist tighter.
Between customers, his thoughts raced. Liam warned us. Casey warned us. And we still did this.He looked down at his hands. They were shaking.
Across the alley, Six was selling faster. Too fast. People recognized the product now. They came desperate, impatient, some already twitching, their eyes glassy before they even paid. One man shoved credits into Six's chest and snarled, "Hurry up," before storming off with his bag.
Youri swallowed hard.
Suddenly, sirens wailed in the distance.
The sound sliced through the market like a blade.
People scattered instantly—vendors tearing down stalls, buyers vanishing into hidden passages. Panic rippled through the alley. Youri's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Six!" he hissed, waving frantically.
Six looked up, eyes wide. He grabbed the remaining bags and stuffed them back into the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Another siren screamed closer now—Terrian order sirens. Deeper. Sharper.
"Move!" Youri shouted.
They ran.
They burst through the crowd, ducking under hanging cables, vaulting over crates, their footsteps echoing against metal and stone. Searchlights swept across the rooftops above, white beams cutting through the haze.
"Stop right there!" a distorted voice boomed somewhere behind them.
They didn't stop.
Six slammed his shoulder into a rusted door, and it burst open into a narrow maintenance corridor. They stumbled inside, gasping, and Youri slammed the door shut just as boots thundered past outside.
They crouched in the dark, barely daring to breathe.
For a long moment, there was only the distant chaos of the market and the fading sirens.
Youri pressed his forehead against the cold wall. "This… this is insane," he whispered. "We're going to die doing this."
Six didn't answer. He just tightened his grip on the backpack.
After several minutes, the noise died down. Carefully, they slipped back out, taking longer, unfamiliar routes, avoiding open spaces. By the time they reached the Skylark Motel, their legs burned and their nerves were shot.
Room thirteen's door opened before they could knock.
Barnaby stood there, calm as ever, cigarette already lit. His eyes flicked to the backpack, then back to their faces.
"Took you long enough," he said casually.
Youri stepped forward, anger flashing through his fear. "There were sirens. Terrian patrols. You didn't say anything about that."
Barnaby chuckled and took a drag from his cigarette. "Of course there were. That's how you know business is good."
Six growled low in his throat.
Barnaby's smile sharpened. "Relax. You're still breathing, aren't you?" He gestured inside. "Come on. Let's see how you did."
Youri hesitated—then followed. He didn't feel like he had a choice anymore.
As Barnaby counted the credits, his expression was almost pleased. "Not bad," he said. "You're learning fast."
Youri stared at him, his voice quiet but steady. "You said you were like us. That you understood."
Barnaby looked up slowly, smoke curling around his face. For a brief moment, the smile faded.
"I do understand," he said. "That's why I know exactly how this ends."
Youri felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Barnaby handed them their cut and leaned back. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will be heavier."
As the door closed behind him, Youri sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the money in his hands.
Outside, the neon buzzed on, uncaring.
And somewhere deep down, Youri realized they were already far past the point of turning back.