The Central was carved into stone like a fortress that had swallowed a city. Its gates towered, guarded by figures in black armor, their eyes cold and hollow, their knives stained from too many dawns. To survive Villian Ville wasn't enough — you had to belong. That meant registration. That meant rules.
Tim stood with his alliance behind him, eighty men and women who owed their lives to his blade. Or so he thought.
The clerk behind the desk barely looked up from the ledger. "Alliance name?"
Tim tightened his grip on Tammy's knife, still carrying it at his hip. "No name yet. Just… register us."
The clerk flicked her eyes over the group. "Nomerci's shadow stretches here. You know that, don't you? If they find out you're registering, half these people won't last the week."
A murmur swept through his alliance. Nervous glances. Shuffling feet.
Tim felt it before it happened — the shift in loyalty. The fear.
One man stepped forward, bowing his head. "Tim… we can't. Nomerci will hunt us down. We don't stand a chance."
Another spoke, her voice cracking. "I've seen what Jenny does to men who defy her. I won't end like that."
One by one, they backed away. Eighty voices thinning into silence, until nothing remained but their footsteps echoing down the stone hall, leaving Tim standing with a clerk's bored gaze and the weight of betrayal on his shoulders.
"Minimum requirement is five members," the clerk said without sympathy. "Excluding the leader. You don't meet the quota."
Tim's jaw tightened. Rage seethed beneath his skin, but he said nothing.
When the hall emptied, only two remained by his side.
Lacey.
She looked like the girl-next-door with a Victoria's Secret body. Long, silky brown hair, soft pale skin, and big doe eyes that made her seem innocent and gentle. But her chest was full and bouncy, her curves impossible to ignore, and she knew it. She wore a snug top that hugged her figure and shorts that showed off smooth thighs. Sweet and soft on the outside, but Tim had seen her fight — fast, decisive, like a trained martial artist. Cute face, killer body, dangerous hands.
Yuko.
Petite, slim, with the vibe of a Japanese pop idol. She had a doll-like face with glossy lips, straight dark hair cut just past her shoulders, and sharp eyes that looked older than the rest of her. Dressed in a short skirt and a tight shirt that exposed a teasing strip of midriff, she gave off a schoolgirl look at first glance. But Yuko wasn't about innocence — her smirk showed she was always plotting. She had the brains and the cunning, the type who could out-think enemies long before they realized they were being played. A fox in the skin of a J-pop star.
Neither flinched when the others fled.
Tim looked at them, confused. "You're not leaving?"
Lacey shook her head, her voice soft but steady. "I don't fear them."
Yuko crossed her arms, smirking. "Hate them, actually. I've got my own reasons."
Tim studied them both, seeing more than loyalty — seeing resolve.
The clerk shut the ledger with a snap. "Three short. Without five, you're nothing."
The words cut deep, but Tim didn't flinch. He turned on his heel, leading Lacey and Yuko back into the open streets of Villian Ville.
The city buzzed with its grim rhythm — traders hawking weapons, bloodstains being scrubbed from stones, laughter from those too mad to care. Over it all loomed the fear of Nomerci, the alliance Jenny ruled like a queen bee, her men drones bound by lust and devotion.
Tim's chest ached at the thought. Tammy's ashes still haunted him, every sunrise reminding him what he'd lost.
Now, all he had was Lacey and Yuko. Two women who shared his hatred of Nomerci. Two women who, for reasons he didn't yet know, wanted Jenny's empire to burn as badly as he did.
But three more were needed.
Three more souls who would spit in Nomerci's face. Three more who would risk death to stand beside him.
Tim clenched his fist around the knife at his side.
"This alliance needs a name," Yuko said suddenly, breaking the silence as they walked.
Tim frowned. "What?"
She smirked, tilting her head. "If we're going to stand against Nomerci, it needs more than fear. It needs purpose."
Lacey nodded, her chest rising as she drew a slow breath. "We protect the women. The ones who'd be used, thrown away, or crushed by Jenny's men. That's our mission."
Tim's gaze hardened. Slowly, he said the words aloud. "Tidam Alliance. Mission: protect the women."
The name felt solid, like a promise carved in stone.
Tidam Alliance.
It wasn't just about revenge anymore. It was about protecting those Jenny would destroy.
And until they had five, they weren't official. Until then, they were prey.
Tim looked at Lacey's soft smile, at Yuko's sly smirk, and at the crowded, dangerous streets ahead.
Three more. That's all they needed.
Three more, and then the hunt for Jenny could truly begin.