Under the cloak of the dark night, Joon-ho and I embark on our mission, the quiet whirr of our electric bikes blending seamlessly into the stillness. The abandoned city streets, bathed in moonlight, stretch out before us, eerie yet familiar. We manoeuvre through the ghostly cityscape, each turn and detour etched in our memory.
Before venturing out, I dispatch our drone to survey the group's shelter, a rundown warehouse situated in a secluded part of the city. The drone, a vital eye in the sky, relays live footage to the compact screen attached to my bike. Its camera pans over the warehouse and its vicinity, giving us a comprehensive view of the area.
As the warehouse comes into view on the screen, a frown creases my brow. "That's odd," I murmur to Joon-ho, pointing at the screen. The infrared camera reveals only a few figures outside, their movements lackadaisical, lacking the vigilance I had expected. "They've got lookouts, but it's not what I'd call tight security."
Joon-ho peers at the screen, his expression mirroring my surprise. "You'd think they'd be more cautious, especially at night."
We continue onward, the ease of our approach unsettling yet advantageous. The electric bikes prove their worth, covering the distance to the warehouse quickly and without a sound.
Upon reaching a safe distance from the warehouse, we stow our bikes in a shadowed alcove, shrouded by the overgrowth. The drone, now hovering at a safer altitude to avoid detection, still feeds us valuable information.
Approaching the warehouse on foot, we move with heightened caution, our senses attuned to any sign of danger. The lack of robust security is baffling – either they are overconfident or inexperienced, both of which could work in our favour.
"There's the warehouse," I whisper to Joon-ho, pointing at the screen. The drone's infrared camera outlines the figures of several lookouts stationed around the perimeter. "Looks like they've got minimal security outside."
Joon-ho nods, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Should be manageable. Let's avoid the main entrance and look for a quieter way in."
We continue our cautious approach, keeping a keen eye on the drone feed while navigating through the shadowy streets. The electric bikes are invaluable, allowing us to cover the distance quickly and silently.
As we near the warehouse, we park our bikes in a concealed spot, hidden among the overgrowth and rubble. We proceed on foot, moving with practised caution. The drone, which I have programmed to hover at a higher altitude, continues to provide a bird's-eye view of the area, ensuring we aren't walking into an ambush.
We approach the warehouse from the back, avoiding the dimly lit areas where the lookouts are stationed. Every step is measured, every breath controlled, as we blend into the night, shadows among shadows.
The warehouse looms ahead, a hulking silhouette against the dark sky. Its walls, scarred by time and neglect, tell a story of a world long gone. But tonight, it is our target, a hurdle in our quest for survival.
Joon-ho and I exchange a brief nod, a silent signal of readiness. We are close now, the culmination of our planning about to unfold. This is it—the moment where precision and stealth dictate the success of our mission.
Silently, Joon-ho and I creep closer to the warehouse, our movements almost imperceptible in the shadowy darkness. The moonlight barely penetrates the gloom of the area, but it is enough for us to make out the figures of two men stationed near the entrance. They are supposed to be lookouts, but fatigue has taken its toll, leaving them dozing in their chairs.
We exchange a quick, silent nod and split up, each moving towards one of the men. I approach one of the dozing figures, my steps light and careful. Reaching him, I gently nudge his shoulder with the butt of my silenced pistol. His eyes flutter open, widening in shock as he finds himself staring into the barrel of my gun.
"Shh," I whisper, pressing a finger to my lips. "Don't make a sound. Listen carefully if you want to stay alive."
The man, still half in a daze, nods frantically, his eyes darting between me and the gun.
"We're not here to hurt anyone unnecessarily," I continue in a low, steady voice. "But we need your cooperation. Wake up your friend quietly. Then, one by one, wake up the others inside. Get them to line up in front of me. No sudden moves, no noise. Understand?"
The man swallows hard, nodding again. The fear in his eyes is evident, but it is clear he understands the gravity of the situation. He slowly turns to his companion, nudging him awake with a sense of urgency that is carefully controlled to avoid any abrupt noise.
Joon-ho keeps watch, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement. The second man wakes up, confusion etched on his face until he too sees the seriousness of our intent.
One by one, they begin to rouse the others inside the warehouse. The sleepy confusion of the group quickly turns to fear as they realise the situation they are in. They line up as instructed, a ragged row of individuals whose night has taken an unexpected turn.
As the individuals line up in front of us, a tense silence fills the air, broken only by the occasional shuffling of feet. They are a young group, more kids than adults, eight men and three women. It is then that a man, who seems slightly older and more assertive than the rest, steps forward. His posture and demeanour suggest he is their leader.
"Who are you? What do you want from us?" he asks, his voice a mix of defiance and apprehension.
I keep my gun trained on him, my expression unyielding. "We want you to leave this area and never come back," I state firmly.
The leader's eyes flicker with uncertainty, but he is about to respond when something else catches my attention. Among the group, the three women have a different demeanour compared to the rest. Their eyes are downcast, but occasionally, they glance up, their eyes meeting mine with a silent, desperate plea.
It is a look I recognise all too well, a silent cry for help that I have seen in others' eyes in my past experiences. The realisation hits me with a sickening certainty – these women are being abused by the men in their group.
Joon-ho, noticing my distraction, follows my gaze and quickly understands. We have seen enough of the world's cruelty to recognise the signs. The situation has suddenly become more complex.
I turn my attention back to the group, my resolve hardening. "You will leave this area tonight," I repeat to the leader. "And you're not to come back. We'll be watching."
The leader, still trying to maintain a facade of control, nods reluctantly, casting a wary glance at his group. He is about to order them to move when I speak again, my voice lower, more dangerous.
As the dishevelled group begins to shuffle away from the warehouse, their movements hesitant but driven by the fear of our weapons, a sudden disruption shatters the tense calm. One of the women, previously standing timidly among the group, breaks from the line. With a burst of unexpected energy, she rushes towards me, her face a canvas of desperation.
"Help!" she cries out, her voice cracking with emotion. Her eyes, wide with a mix of fear and hope, lock onto mine.
The group halts in their tracks, turning to watch the scene unfold. Joon-ho instinctively raises his weapon, his gaze shifting between the woman and the rest of the group, ready for any sudden moves.
The woman reaches me, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Please, you have to help us," she pleads, her hands clasped together.
"We can't go back with them. They... they'll..."
Her words trail off, but the terror in her eyes conveys more than words ever could. The reality of her situation, and that of the other two women, is painfully clear.