"Alright, I'll catch you later," Germain said, pausing briefly before hanging up. He slipped his phone into his pocket and fixed his gaze on the bald man standing nearby, his eyes bright with anticipation.
"Just one more to go," he said.
Zenji's head was drenched in cold sweat, a clear sign he knew exactly where this was heading. His pupils narrowed as fear took hold, and his lips trembled as he spoke.
"Do you even know who I am? What happens if you touch me...?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," Germain replied, stepping toward him. The moonlight cast a long shadow from his hunter's cloak, trailing behind him as he moved.
"I... I've already reported... I've told them you're in Yorknew City..." Zenji stammered, backing away. "If something happens to me, you'll be..."
He never finished the sentence. With a sickening crunch, a massive butcher's cleaver slammed into his face, splitting his skull. Fear and despair filled his mind in his final moments.
Germain yanked the cleaver out with a squelch, leaving Zenji's bald head looking like a split watermelon. His eyes glazed over, and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud, lifeless.
Germain scanned the scene and noticed that one of the other six men—the one whose arm had been cut off—was still breathing.
"Please, spare me," the man pleaded weakly.
Germain ignored him. He struck the final blow, leaving no witnesses.
With the threats neutralized, he crouched down and rifled through the corpses. He found cash, some credit cards, and took Zenji's ring from his finger, stuffing it all into his pockets. They had it coming.
Originally, Germain had planned to head back to the Bechita Hotel. But he remembered he had a meeting with Shizuku, so he hailed a taxi and went to the square where they'd agreed to meet earlier that day.
It was nearly 11 PM when the taxi dropped him off at the square. Germain paid the fare and strolled through the quiet square, ready for his next encounter.
The streets were mostly empty, and the few pedestrians who passed through moved with urgency. The fountain had stopped flowing, its statue now a shadowy silhouette in the dim light. A streetlamp nearby cast a weak circle of illumination, where Shizuku sat on a bench, absorbed in a palm-sized book.
Germain approached her, his footsteps echoing lightly. Shizuku's senses were keen—she raised her head and closed her book as she recognized him. She stood up as he came closer.
"Someone interrupted me earlier," Germain said, getting straight to the point. "So I just want to confirm—you've decided to go along with my plan and work with me long-term, right?"
Shizuku adjusted her glasses and nodded. "Yeah. I'd rather work with someone from Meteor City than take a job from a stranger. That's my way of thinking."
Her reasoning was grounded in the harsh realities of Meteor City. The place accepted all manner of "trash," even human lives discarded by society.
Its residents were mostly undocumented, relegated to the lowest rungs of society. As a result, the children and people of Meteor City became easy targets for the rich, the powerful, and criminal syndicates.
Local governments rarely bothered with what happened to these forgotten people.
This backdrop of neglect led to Meteor City's transformation. The elders struck deals with the Mafia, sending their most promising talents to train with them, gaining in return a semblance of peace and stability.
Germain had used this channel to escape Meteor City, venturing out into the world beyond. But not everyone was eager to become a lackey for the Mafia.
As time passed, the people and elders of Meteor City cultivated a sense of resistance. Their motto became, "We'll accept anything you leave here, but don't ever take anything away from us."
This defiance extended to how they protected their community, fostering a reputation that instilled fear in outsiders. Their unity was such that they were even willing to launch suicide attacks to defend a wronged resident.
Returning to Germain and Shizuku, their decision to collaborate made sense in this context. In a world where alliances were fraught with danger, sticking together as children of Meteor City felt like the safer bet.
Meteor City is known to outsiders as a breeding ground for criminal activity and terrorist organizations. But for those who live there, it's a tightly knit community where everyone looks out for each other.
The Phantom Troupe emerged from this unique environment.
Shizuku didn't fully trust Germain, but her upbringing in Meteor City taught her to be cautious while making allies when necessary. The skepticism was ingrained, even when extending an olive branch.
"Agreed," Germain said without hesitation, offering his hand to Shizuku. "Looking forward to working together."
"Likewise," she replied, reaching out to shake his hand.
After a brief handshake, they let go.
"So, where are we heading now?" Shizuku asked. "Or do we need to finalize the contract first?"
The contract was just a formality for two people from Meteor City. If they decided to honor it, they'd keep their word. If not, it was just a worthless piece of paper.
Germain shook his head, speaking bluntly: "It's the Dark Continent."
Shizuku tilted her head, her large eyes blinking with curiosity. "The Dark Continent? Isn't that the place outside our known world? We can't go there, right? There's no way to get permission."
She repeated "impossible" twice, and she wasn't wrong. The V5 coalition hadn't sent anyone to the Dark Continent in decades. Even if they had recently considered it, it was unlikely that anyone from Meteor City would be granted permission.
Germain was about to explain when he heard the sound of car tires scraping against the pavement, coming from all directions.
In moments, a dozen black cars suddenly stormed into the previously quiet square, blocking off the surrounding intersections. A group of men in black suits stepped out of the vehicles.
Some held mobile phones, others had guns, and one was shoving the taxi driver who had dropped Germain off. The taxi driver stumbled to the ground, then got up, and when he looked up and saw Germain, he shouted loudly.
"It's... it's him! The guy in the photo is him!"
"Do you even need to tell me that?!" snapped one of the men in black as he kicked the taxi driver. He then turned his attention toward Germain and Shizuku, signaling to the others to converge on them.
The taxi driver, seeing the commotion, wasted no time in bolting, leaving the area quickly. He wanted nothing to do with the escalating violence.
The leading Mafia member glared at Germain, his tone hostile. "Germain, do you have any idea what you've just done? Attacking Zenji? You people from Meteor City are getting more and more reckless. Don't think you can just walk away from this!"
"'The Ten Dons' have put a high bounty on your head, dead or alive. You know what that means, right? The Mafia members in Yorknew City are hunting for you. We've got men in every corner of the city. So, what's it gonna be? Are you and your friends going to surrender? Or are you ready to fight to the end? You have five seconds to—"
Before he could finish, everything around him began to spin. It felt like a roller coaster gone horribly wrong, and suddenly he found himself on the ground in a very uncomfortable position, like he'd been tossed into a blender. As the sharp pain hit and screams erupted from his crew, he realized what was happening to him.
"Did I just get... beheaded?"
Germain appeared in front of him in an instant, his Cleaver slick with blood—the gang leader's blood. He was in shock.
"He decapitated Boss Ross!"
"When did he even move?!"
"Stop gawking and shoot! Shoot! Kill these bastards!"
Shizuku, who was standing beside Germain, was also now viewed as an accomplice. And to be fair, she pretty much was at this point.
********
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