It was the fourth night since Youri and Sixhead had started working for Barnaby. This time, they were moving product through the Night District, operating behind Saliente. People drifted in and out of the shadows, transactions happening quickly and without words.
As Youri waited, a familiar figure approached him.
It took a moment for recognition to settle in, but as the man drew closer, Youri's chest tightened. It was Mikey—one of the guys he and Six had robbed before fleeing to Talion. Mikey gave the signal without hesitation, extending his hand with a folded 500-zell bill tucked between his fingers.
Youri placed the bag into Mikey's palm but didn't take the money.
The hesitation confused Mikey, but he said nothing. He simply closed his hand around the package and walked away. Youri watched him disappear into the crowd, guilt weighing heavily in his stomach. Leaving them stranded in that abandoned house had never stopped haunting him. This was the only way he could repay a fragment of that debt.
Once the last of the product was moved, Youri regrouped with Six.
As they walked through the narrow backstreets, Youri spoke quietly."I just sold to one of the guys we stole from. Remember them?"
Six let out a low roar and nodded.
"I gave him a bag for free," Youri continued. "Hopefully that pays off at least some of what we owe."
They slipped into the hidden alleyways, their footsteps echoing softly against wet stone. Suddenly, a hand clamped down on Youri's arm.
Six spun around instantly—but before he could react, two figures slammed him to the ground. Another force drove Youri face-first into the pavement. Cold metal cuffs snapped shut around their wrists.
Terrian Order.
One of the officers spoke into his comm."We've got the suspects. Requesting escort."
Pinned to the ground, Youri caught sight of the Terrian uniforms. His heart sank. They were truly finished now—caught just one job away from earning enough to leave Volar for good.
They were shoved into the back of an armored Terrian Order truck. Inside, a guard studied them with thinly veiled amusement.
"To think a pip-squeak like you managed to move drugs and dodge us this long," he said, shaking his head. "You're a real criminal, aren't you?"
Youri stared at the floor, head bowed. Six did the same. They both knew what this meant. Once again, they were prisoners.
The drive to the Order's headquarters was short. Located north of Talion, the road stretched long and straight, illuminated by evenly spaced lights that led directly to the compound's entrance.
The building loomed massive and unforgiving—constructed from pale concrete that seemed cold even from a distance. Its perfectly symmetrical structure radiated outward from a central tower like a rigid formation. Flat, heavy surfaces were broken only by deep vertical grooves and narrow slit-like windows, giving it the appearance of a fortress.
In front of it lay a wide stone plaza, slick with rain and reflecting the structure like a dark mirror. Short, blocky pillars stood in precise rows. There were no curves, no softness—only sharp angles and deliberate restraint.
The truck entered through a rear garage door.
Inside, a guard escorted Youri and Six down a dark corridor lit only by small ceiling lights. The walk was brief, yet it felt endless. The guard stopped them before a massive black door. As he reached for the handle, he leaned in and whispered,"Good luck. Though I doubt you will need it."
The door opened onto another dimly lit room.
The chamber was narrow and sealed, constructed almost entirely of metal. Perforated steel panels covered the walls, their endless rows of holes creating a cold, clinical texture. Thin vertical strips of white light ran along the corners, flooding the space with an unforgiving glow that left no shadows to hide in.
At the center stood a plain rectangular table, matte and unadorned, surrounded by rigid metal chairs. Everything about the room was designed to intimidate—hard edges, harsh angles, no comfort.
A small security camera watched from above. At the far end, a utility stand held a glass of water and a few cups.
As Youri and Six were led inside, they found Barnaby already waiting—seated casually in one of the chairs, watching them.
"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the two empty chairs.
They sat. Contempt and betrayal were written plainly across their faces.
Barnaby leaned back slightly."Let's start with something simple. Your names."
Silence.
He exhaled once, unimpressed."Fine. I'll go first. Barnaby Fanrat. Commanding officer for the eastern side of the Pulsar Nebula."
He perched on the utility stand, studying them. Neither Youri nor Six spoke.
Barnaby straightened and turned toward the wall on his left, tapping it twice. A hidden door slid open, and he stepped through. The red light on the camera flickered—then shut off.
Moments later, Barnaby reemerged, a smile now etched across his face.
"Well done," he said. "That's how you do it—if you ever get caught."
He returned to his chair and placed his hands flat on the table."Listen carefully, boys. I run this side of the nebula. The police. The Order. Who do you think they work for?"
Youri and Six remained frozen, staring at him.
Barnaby stood and headed toward the exit."I decide when you're finished," he said coldly. "So get this into your skulls—wherever you go, whenever you move, I will know."
He paused at the door."And next time… it won't be this easy."
Youri and Six were escorted out of the Order compound and returned to the very same alleyway where they had been detained. The armored truck pulled away, leaving them standing in the damp, narrow passage as if nothing had happened—except everything had.
Standing there, surrounded by flickering lights and stained walls, Youri and Six were more determined than ever to leave. This time, hesitation was no longer an option. They had to move fast, before they were pulled any deeper—before the illusion of escape vanished entirely and there was no way out.