After they had listened to the commissioner's story, Delia Asia Vieira felt her resolve strengthen. The fat man with the suitcase was still standing nearby, smoking a cigar and lazily looking at the clouds, but Delia could no longer sit idly by. Her thoughts were clear - Gene York should not remain in this prison. And if no one was going to save him, she would do it herself.
"I must see Gene York immediately," she said with determination in her voice, addressing the fat man. "And ideally, I must get him out of prison."
The fat man looked at her in surprise, but then his face broke into a sly smile.
"And here I thought you just liked watching things like that!" He exhaled a couple of ashen clouds and clicked his teeth. "Well, if that's how you feel, then I'll take you to the nearest city jail. That's where he is, this York guy. Right on the way, no big deal."
They left the luxurious mansion with the ambassadors and the security officer and headed for the nearest exit from the garden. The road led through the narrow streets of the city, where the lanterns burned dimly, and the air was filled with the smell of rain and old asphalt. The fat man chatted all the time, joked uncertainly, and his gaze sometimes involuntarily slid to Delia.
"You know, it would be cool to blow up the door to Gene's cell and have him freed with all the fanfare. Explosion, smoke, and Gene as a hero - would come out in epic style," he said, chuckling.
Delia Asia Vieira only smiled at the corners of her mouth, but there was something in her eyes that made the fat man shut up. She did not comment on his jokes, but simply walked forward, slowly, with complete internal control over the situation. Everything was calculated, and although her face remained calm, she knew exactly what to do.
On the way they passed buildings that looked like forgotten old schools, and then they came to the high gray walls of the city jail. Everything was as expected: grim facades, huge gates with barbed wire, on which someone had once painted blurry graffiti. There was tension in the air, like a premonition of some approaching event. Guards stood at the doors, their faces indifferent, their eyes angry at everyone who passed by.
As they approached the building, Delia Asia Vieira felt something change in the air. Something was not as she had expected. She stopped, intuitively sensing that events were taking an unexpected turn. The fat man, still prattling on about how he could stage an epic liberation, suddenly fell silent as he saw plumes of black smoke begin to rise from around the corner of the prison.
At that moment, everything happened too fast to process. The left wing of the prison literally blew up—not in the sense of an explosion, but rather in the sense that the buildings that had seemed so impregnable and confident in their monumentality suddenly began to seem like nothing more than toys in the hands of a ruthless force. Flames, hissing, crackling—and now guards and police were rushing around the grounds, trying to find where the ruin began and where something still intact ended.
Delia Asia Vieira, without losing her composure, watched intently, feeling her heart begin to beat faster. The fat man, with not a drop of humor left on his face, stood listening, and then looked at her.
But then, a figure appeared between the ruins. It moved with such a confident, even proud gait that everything around it immediately became eclipsed. Out of the smoke and chaos came he – Gene York. He was as calm as ever, as if everything that had happened had not been a surprise to him. His face expressed neither surprise nor alarm – only the calm that was always so characteristic of him.
He looked around at the crowd of policemen and onlookers, who were watching in amazement as the man who had just been captured appeared in the center of their attention. Gene, still with that same posture that had amazed everyone who had ever seen him, approached the fat man and Delia Asia Vieira.
"Hello," he said, as if they had met by chance, in a normal setting. He extended his hand to the fat man, then to Delia, their handshake was confident and calm, as always.
The fat man, blinking in bewilderment, shook his hand firmly, and then exhaled briefly:
"Are you crazy? How did you do this?"
Gene York smiled, as if he found it amusing to watch the fat man's surprise, and turned to Delia.
"When you've been in this business for so long, you know how to get out of any situation," he replied, taking a step back and continuing to survey the area around him. "I even thought that an underground exit from prison was too much, but sometimes it pays to act unexpectedly."
Delia Asia Vieira couldn't hold back any longer. Her mind was boiling with questions, and without giving herself time to think, she rushed towards Gene York with a stream of puzzled questions.
"Gene, how did you do it? What did you do to get out? You were just in jail, and now you're standing here like nothing happened!" She asked question after question, not noticing how her voice was becoming more and more insistent.
Gene York, standing there with such an unperturbed smile, as if this was all part of some prearranged plan, glanced briefly at the fat man, and then looked at the robotess.
"Oh, it's very simple. The thing is, I once had a little spicy affair with James Bond in Hawaii. You know how it is," he said in a carefree tone, as if it were the most ordinary event in his life. "I used an old trick that I had in case I ever needed it. Frankly, I didn't think it would work. But look how lucky I was!" Gene laughed, shaking his head as if it were nothing at all.
Delia Asia Vieira was stunned. She couldn't help but burst out laughing when she realized Gene was actually joking. Everything he said sounded so absurd that it seemed like he was definitely not taking his adventures seriously.
The fat man stood nearby and shook his head, not sharing the joy. His gaze became more wary, and he looked at Delia with some surprise, not even hiding a little displeasure.
"Did you really believe him that much? What kind of tactlessness is that!" the fat man said, coughing and slightly wrinkling his forehead.
Robotess, having recovered from her laughter a little, only glanced at the fat man, then at Gene, and laughed again. At some point, she realized that even if what he said was strange, his self-confidence and absolute calm made the whole conversation completely unimportant. Everything was much easier than she had first thought.
After a short pause, Gene York stood up straight, looking at both of them with a wide grin.
"Okay, now let's focus on the matter at hand," he said, looking around the empty street. "Where do we go next?"
Delia Asia Vieira thought again that they all needed to take a breath and figure out what to do, but before she could say anything, Gene continued:
"Why don't we just go to hell? We've already been there!" His eyes flashed, and he himself apparently realized that the phrase was not just funny, but ironic on a philosophical level.
Delia Asia Vieira laughed again, and the fat man finally gave in and couldn't help but smile as well. Suddenly, the atmosphere around them seemed to change, becoming much lighter. Even those who were standing aside looked at them in surprise, seeing the three of them laughing in this strange world.
"Well then, let's go to hell!" said the fat man, raising his eyebrows, and all three of them, as if on cue, headed towards the horizon.
And when the three of them walked towards the horizon, suddenly, right in front of them, a huge red star appeared in the sky. It seemed to appear out of nowhere, its light was so bright that it was impossible not to notice. It illuminated the entire space around, and it seemed as if the whole night had suddenly turned into day. At first it was just a beautiful sight - a fiery red light flooding the earth - but with each passing moment the light became more and more blinding, and the world around began to change its outlines.
Delia Asia Vieira stopped, her eyes widened, and she looked at the star, unable to look away. She felt something click in her head, as if the world around her was no longer the same as she knew it. This was more than just a light in the sky. This was something real, deep, unknown.
The fat man slowed down too. He looked at her, then at Gene, and then at the star. His eyes narrowed, and he felt a strange chill down his spine, as if something had changed in the air.
"What the hell is that?" he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "It's not just a star, it's something... wrong."
Gene York, as calm as ever, looked up at the sky and said thoughtfully:
"We're not just heading toward the horizon," his voice was quiet but confident. "We're going somewhere... completely wrong."
At this point, the bright light became so intense that they could no longer look at the star without squinting. It was as if the star was trying to break out of its shell and pull them into the unknown. Delia Asia Vieira felt the ground beneath her feet begin to tremble slightly. She felt the transition almost physically, as if she were standing on the border between two worlds.
"This is not the way," she said suddenly, unsure of her words, but somehow feeling that they must stop. "This is not the way to the earth, not the way to life. This is the way... to the stars.
The fat man sighed heavily, and his face became even more gloomy. He shook his head, as if trying to drive away this feeling, but he could not.
"To the stars," he repeated. "Yes, you may be right, but what should we do?"
Gene York looked at him with a smile, but there was a strange hint of recognition in his gaze. He nodded, agreeing that perhaps they had started in the wrong direction. Towards the stars, towards something vague and alien. Something that had long since ceased to be part of what they considered reality.
"We're going the wrong way," he said, and his words echoed in their ears. "This light, this star, it shows us that we're not just leaving the earth. We may be leaving everything we've ever known.
At that moment, all three of them turned back, not knowing what else to do. Each of their gazes was focused on the emptiness that seemed increasingly vast before them. All these strange events, their steps into the void, the bright star in the sky, now seemed to lead them to something unknown, and this path did not promise to be easy. Sometimes such moments require only one thing - just to go.
Walking towards the city, they found themselves on a small street lined with old buildings covered in graffiti and peeling paint. And then, almost on the corner, they saw a restaurant. It was a small, unremarkable establishment that had clearly not seen any renovation for a long time. Above the door hung an old sign, dimly glowing in the evening light, and on it was written a strange phrase: "Alexander York was here..."
The fat man stopped and looked at the sign, then looked at Delia Asia Vieira and Gene York. He just shrugged, as if he didn't understand what was hidden behind those words, but a thought flashed in his eyes. Something about that sign was important, something that called them here.
"Come on," Gene said, and they went inside.
The restaurant was quiet and almost empty. The only sounds they could hear were the soft rustling of chairs and dishes being moved around somewhere. The atmosphere was strangely menacing, as if everything here was frozen in anticipation of something they couldn't understand. Space seemed to be nonexistent to time.
And so, sitting at one of the tables, they noticed the figure of a man. He was young, with long hair that fell to his shoulders. He was dressed in a dark coat, and he looked as if he had come here not by chance, but with some clear intention. His gaze was calm, but attentive, like a man who already knew what was about to happen.
"Are you looking for Alexander York?" he asked, looking up. "My name is Bugenhagen. I'm waiting to talk to him about his plans for the future."
Delia Asia Vieira, Fatso and Gene looked at each other, not knowing what to say. What was so important about these words? And why did this Bugenhagen, who seemed to have no relation to them, talk so easily about Alexander York, as if they all knew each other?
"I... I don't know what we're looking for," Delia Asia Vieira said, her voice shaking a little, but she calmed herself. "Maybe we're just lost in this city, or maybe we just came to see what happens next."
Bugenhagen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His gaze was a little unclear, as if he saw something in the distance that his interlocutors could not catch. The silence in the restaurant dragged on. The strange, almost mystical atmosphere of the place continued to hang in the air.
Suddenly, Bugenhagen stood up from the table, his boots loudly tapping on the wooden floor. He looked as if he knew exactly what was coming, and every step he took was calculated. He turned to Delia Asia Vieira, Fatso, and Gene York as if he was about to say something, but instead he pulled a wad of euros out of his pocket and held it out in their direction.
"Do you mind if I take fifty euros from each of you?" he asked calmly, not expecting a refusal. "It's just money anyway."
The moment when all three froze was like a momentary awakening from a dream. Delia Asia Vieira looked at him in surprise, Fatso frowned, but his doubts seemed to melt away. Gene York simply shrugged and pulled out the money, handing it to Bugenhagen.
The man, having received his share, did not thank him, but simply nodded and, as if saying goodbye, left the restaurant. His figure disappeared behind the door, and they all heard how he quickly crossed the courtyard, approaching the bicycle standing there. The bicycle was ordinary, but for this place it looked almost strange - old-fashioned and worn out, like Bugenhagen himself.
He got on his bike, pulled the handlebars up, straightened his back, and rode quickly down the road. There was something strange about the way he moved, something that added to the mystery of the scene. The bike quickly picked up speed, and his silhouette disappeared into the traffic, as if he had dissolved into this world where the answers were not always obvious.
The three of us stood at the restaurant window, watching Bugenhagen disappear over the horizon, leaving behind only a strange aftertaste. His behavior, his strange request for money, and his disappearance on a bicycle left them with a mixture of bewilderment and disappointment. It all seemed like some strange performance in which they were victims or spectators, or perhaps both at the same time.
The silence that followed his departure was drawn out and uncomfortable. Each of the three had his own thoughts, but in the end they all came to the same conclusion: Bugenhagen had simply deceived them.
"So what was that?" Fatso exhaled heavily, tapping his finger on the table, as if returning to reality. "Do you think he really knew something?"
Delia Asia Vieira was silent, her eyes glittering in the dim light of the restaurant, but she didn't say anything. She knew that the questions remained unanswered, and perhaps that was for the best. They were no longer searching for meaning in what was happening, no longer trying to solve this puzzle. The only thing left was to try to forget and maybe unwind a little.
Gene York chuckled, tilting his head toward the bar.
"He just conned us, didn't he?" he said, not without a hint of irony in his voice. "At least he didn't have time to fleece us to the last cent."
The fat man shrugged and seemed to have adopted the same attitude. Instead of pondering pointless questions, he rose and walked toward the bar, past the loudly chatting patrons, discussing something with the fervor that always happens in such places.
Delia Asia Vieira followed him, her steps more sure than ever. During her time with this strange society, she had learned not to waste energy on meaningless questions and strange people. And now, perhaps, this was the best option.
The bartender smiled as he met their gaze and immediately placed glasses full of amber whiskey in front of them.
"This is for you and your friends," the bartender said, noticing their mood. "Looks like you deserve it."
The glasses were cold and the whiskey was strong. They drank in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, and then they all seemed to realize that they shouldn't stop there. They were already far beyond what they could understand and control anyway.
The whiskey worked quickly. The fat man poured himself another drink and, after the first sip, turned to Gene and Delia Asia Vieira with a half-smile.
"Let's go around again," he said, looking into their eyes. "Why not? This may all be just a game, but who says we can't play?"
Gene nodded, his eyes sparkling. He was still pleased that they had decided not to waste time.
"Time will tell," he added with a tired smile. "But now we know one thing for sure: Bugenhagen will not deceive us. We will decide for ourselves where to go next."
It all began to seem absurd, but their reaction was genuine. The bar was cozy and dark, and the air was thick with the smell of whiskey and conversation. The fat man, known for his ability to spark discussions on any topic, lounged in his chair, glass in hand, and began to talk casually. He was on a roll, and it didn't take him long to start a conversation that could last for hours.
"You know," he began, sipping his whiskey, "the art of robbery is not just stealing. It's philosophy. Do you understand? Robbery, like any real art, requires a subtle approach. It's a game of chance, a game of reason, a game of circumstances.
Gene York, his usual self-possession intact, leaned forward, ready to engage in argument. He loved to argue his point of view, especially when it came to morality.
"But isn't that pointless?" he said, frowning slightly. "You can't just justify it with philosophy. Robbery is a crime. And no amount of talking about fate or chance will change that."
The fat man laughed loudly and continued, ignoring the objections:
"Do you even know what you're talking about, York? Oh, of course, from a moral point of view, you're right. But from the point of view of the philosophy of chance, robbery makes sense. As Nietzsche said, "Man is the result of a struggle, his life is a continuous attempt to rise above his fate, extracting from it the brightest moments." And so, when you swindle money, you don't just take it - you make circumstances work for you. It's all a game in which you control all the variables."
Gene sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. He knew that Fatso would never let the conversation end peacefully. But his arguments were so confusing that he decided not to continue the argument.
"Okay," Gene said, irritation evident in his voice, "the money that's gone is gone. But maybe there are more reasonable ways to spend an evening than discussing the philosophy of thieves?"
The fat man did not give up, he continued on his own, absorbed in his thoughts:
"You just don't understand how things work. This world is one big plundering field. Everything from the largest corporations to the smallest street vendors is a scam to some degree. You may not know it, but you're playing this game too."
Gene was starting to lose his patience. He leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes slightly, and waved his hand, deciding not to waste his energy on a pointless argument. He couldn't argue with a man who lived so confidently in his own reality.
"So what now?" he said, looking at Fatso. "The lost money can't be returned. It would be better if we just went to my place, on the metro," he suggested, abruptly changing the subject. "We could drink there, talk calmly, and not sit in this bar, where all this philosophy turns into some kind of absurdity."
The fat man thought for a moment, as if calming his uncontrollable flow of thoughts, and then, smiling, agreed:
"You're right, York. I agree. Let's go to your place. Let philosophy wait."
Together with Delia Asia Vieira, they stood up and headed for the exit. There was a slight chill in the air from the night as they stepped outside. The cars were rushing past, the city was alive, and the lights from the lamps were bright on the wet asphalt.
"You're not offended, are you?" Fatso asked with a smile as they started moving toward the metro.
"What?" Gene answered with a slight grin. "Your philosophy? No, I just value live communication, not these debates."
And without waiting for an answer, he paid for the beer, and soon the three of them left the bar, leaving behind clouds of smoke and the smell of fumes. Fatso, Gene and Delia Asia Vieira walked out into the street with the same calm as if they had just spent a quiet evening in a cozy cafe, and not consumed a couple of glasses of beer, discussing the philosophy of life and the art of robbery. There was a slight chill in the night air, but this did not bother the company much - they were in a good mood and were in no hurry.
"Well, shall we go home?" Gene said, striding along the sidewalk.
The fat man, limping slightly from the drink, nodded and headed towards the metro station. Delia Asia Vieira, swaying slightly, followed them, feeling the heady intoxication gradually taking over her body. Thoughts floated in her head, tangled with each other, and she could not understand where reality began and where it ended. The streets of the city did not seem like usual, they seemed to float in a light haze, blurring and returning to their previous state.
As they approached the subway, the doors closed with a metallic screech, and the group entered the half-empty station. It was quiet here, underground. Only a few people hurried to the platform, their footsteps echoing in the empty, faceless corridors.
Delia Asia Vieira tried to stand up straight, but her legs were wobbly and every step was difficult. A heavy headache was throbbing in her head and high notes were ringing in her ears, as if she were listening to some strange music. The fat man, noticing that she was not walking quite confidently, laughed and supported her elbow:
"Be careful, otherwise you'll end up on the platform."
He said it jokingly, but Delia Asia Vieira seemed not to notice his words at all. She looked at the tracks as if they were beckoning her to a distant, unknown world.
When they reached the edge of the platform, the train was still out of sight. But suddenly, as Delia stepped toward the rails, the world around her began to spin. The train car was already pulling out onto the platform, its metallic mass inexorably approaching.
At the last moment, she felt someone's strong shoulder. It was Gene. He grabbed her hand and pulled her aside, barely making it in time. The train rushed past her body, inches away.
"Are you crazy?" Gene asked, clearly angry. "Are you okay?"
Delia Asia Vieira looked at him, unable to respond immediately. All her senses were in a fog, and only now, returning to reality, she realized that she had almost become part of this iron mass.
"I'm sorry," she finally whispered, feeling incredibly stupid. "I'm... just a little out of it."
The fat man, pursing his lips, commented:
"Wow, what an adventure! Be more careful next time, okay?"
The three of them stood at the edge of the platform, and after the train had left, Delia Asia Vieira felt the ground stabilize under her feet again. She took a deep breath and tried to regain her confidence. Her gaze cleared a little.
"Let's just sit down and go," she suggested, trying to restore balance.
Gene nodded and the three of them headed for the nearest train. They sat down and, somewhat calmer, watched the lights of the station flicker by and the noise and bustle of the city seemed to recede into the foggy night.
The subway car they were riding on swayed slowly, the rails creaked deafeningly and filled the space with its iron echo. Fat Man, Gene and Delia Asia Vieira sat silently, absorbed in their thoughts. The subway moved deeper and deeper underground, gnawing into the concrete depths of the city. The car occasionally slowed down, letting other trains pass, until at one of the stations it stopped completely, as if the route had been interrupted.
They came out onto the platform, where it was dark and even the air seemed heavy. The lights that were coming on dimly illuminated the long corridors that led further into the depths of the city's underground labyrinths. It was an underground passage where the average citizen rarely set foot.
"Come on," Gene said, turning to Delia Asia Vieira and Fatso. "This is no time to dawdle."
The fat man left the place where he was sitting with a slight crunch and walked briskly after Gene, and Delia Asia Vieira, although a little disoriented, followed them. The corridors resembled not so much the streets of the subway as a labyrinth of old pipes and abandoned tunnels. The air was musty, water dripped on the walls, and a dull sound came from around the corners, as if this was not part of the city, but an abandoned industrial zone.
"How can you live here?" Delia Asia Vieira thought, feeling thoughts swirling in her head.
But neither Fatso nor Gene paid attention to the inconvenience. They walked confidently, as if all this was part of their daily life.
And so they reached what looked like a tangled construction site. The floors were covered in layers of dirt and debris, metal structures were everywhere, and nearby were rough brick walls that were being assembled into monolithic buildings. Along one wall was an old opening that looked like no one had entered for years. This window led to another building - to its upper floors, through which they would have to get to the next place.
"Be careful from here on out," Gene said, signaling for everyone to stop. "This is no place for the weak."
The fat man, with a smile on his face, looked at the window and approached it. Ignoring the danger, he opened the window with one sharp movement and began to climb inside. Delia Asia Vieira looked back, her gaze caught on the details of the old building: concrete, scrap metal, rusty pipes. This whole world seemed alien and far from normal life, but she could not give up her curiosity and determination to learn more.
"Let's go," Fatso said as he climbed out of the window, holding out his hand to help Gene and Delia Asia Vieira over the remains of the walls.
Once inside, the world changed. It was much darker inside than outside. A thin stream of light filtered through cracks and windows. They moved slowly, as if this was not just another house, but some forgotten place that hid its secrets.
Their path continued until they found themselves in another room, dark and empty, with white concrete walls covered in graffiti. The only sound they could hear was their footsteps, which echoed loudly throughout the building. The fat man, looking around, only nodded, silently expressing his agreement that they had arrived.
"Now what?" Delia Asia Vieira asked, looking around the new place.
"Now let's go there," Gene answered, pointing to a dark passage that led further into the bowels of the building.
As they entered, the air immediately grew thicker and the light dimmer, as if time had slowed down here. The walls were covered with old wooden panels that cracked and creaked with every step. Their footsteps echoed in the emptiness, and for a moment Delia Asia Vieira felt a strange premonition that they had entered the wrong place.
But they were met by a man standing at the far end of the long corridor. He was dressed like a Roman legionary, a bright red cloak billowing behind him, and he held a gleaming spear that glittered like a frozen star in the dim light. Delia Asia It didn't take Vieira long to recognize the man as Alexander York, though his appearance seemed completely changed. His face was serious, and his eyes were piercing and cold.
"Welcome," he said, unabashed by their presence. His voice was deep, with a hint of mystery. "I knew you'd come. And now that you're here, it's time to lay down the cards."
Fatso, Gene and Delia Asia Vieira stopped a couple of steps away from him, waiting to see what would happen next.
"I am a follower of the Antichrist," Alexander York continued, his eyes shining as if he expected his words to have an effect. "But my views are a little different from what you know. I do not believe in destruction and chaos, as is commonly thought of Satanism. My goal is not destruction, but rebirth, the realization of the eternal power that lives in each of us. Satanism for me is not a call to evil, but a path to true liberation.
Delia Asia Vieira listened attentively, but her doubts grew with every word. Something in his ideas was too confusing, too lofty and empty. Not long ago, she had been looking for answers to her questions, and it all seemed not quite right.
"Do you really believe that?" she asked, keeping the bewilderment out of her voice. "Satanism, as you understand it, cannot be forgiveness. It is not a path to enlightenment, it is simply an attempt to turn the world inside out, convincing yourself that only in its destruction can you find meaning."
Alexander York looked at her with interest, but his gaze was not judgmental. He simply nodded, as if he already knew what she was going to say.
"You may be right," he said, but his words sounded like the echo of doubts he had long since suppressed. "But none of that matters. I'm just trying to figure out where to look for answers, just like you are."
Delia Asia Vieira took a step back. With every word he said, her certainty grew: he was too confused and too far from what she was looking for. She turned to Gene and Fatso, and from their faces she saw that they had also come to the same conclusion.
"We're not on the same page," she said, her voice full of determination. "Your path is not ours."
Fatty and Gene supported her with their eyes, nodding silently. They understood that this was not the meeting they were looking for.
"So what are you going to do now?" Alexander York asked, his voice suddenly quieter. It wasn't ominous, it just seemed like he didn't know what to do next.
"Move on," Delia Asia Vieira replied, holding back the relief she felt as she walked away from this conversation. "We're all looking for our way, and it's not here."
They turned and walked, without looking back, toward the building's exit. There, a crowd of journalists suddenly stood before them. Cameras were clicking, tape recorders were flying through the air, and microphones were pointed in their direction, like a magnet for attention. Delia Asia Vieira paused for a step, her gaze sliding over the faces of the correspondents, each of whom was focused on his own work. And then they noticed: the path to the exit was completely blocked.
The fat man snorted, trying to understand what was going on.
"What kind of a circus is this?" he muttered, pushing one of the journalists who was standing right by the door. "We need to go out, not hang out with you guys."
One of the correspondents, a man in his forties with glasses, immediately noticed their presence and turned to the group, his eyes glittering with anticipation.
"Oh, you're here too?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "We're here on important business, don't disturb us. You probably have something to say, too, right? This is the moment when everyone should share their opinion, right?"
Delia Asia Vieira barely held back a sigh as she watched the journalists begin to gather around them. She could feel the space shrinking, and the journalists didn't seem to be going anywhere.
"Look, we're not here to interview you," Gene York replied, glancing quickly at Fatso and Delia. "We just want to get out of here. We need to move on."
The journalist with glasses just shrugged and said in response:
"Oh, is that all? Well, excuse me, but there's like... a whole scene here. We've been trying to get into this place for a week now, so maybe you could wait? Oh, by the way, you had this interesting guy here with a red cape and a spear, do you think he's supposed to be the new ambassador?"
The fat man couldn't stand it:
"What other ambassador?! We need to get through, and you're blocking our way instead of giving us the opportunity to get out!"
One of the journalists, who heard this remark, leaned over and added:
"Well, why do you think they won't let us out of here? We can't get out either. All the doors are locked. We tried! And to be honest, I've been trying to get out of this place for a long time. This isn't just a press conference, it's a real dead end."
At that moment, one of the correspondents in the background cried out:
"They won't let us in! Do you understand? We're all trapped!"
Microphones and cameras were now pointed at the crowd of journalists, and their own faces reflected growing bewilderment.
Delia Asia Vieira looked at Gene York, who in turn said quietly:
"It's a strange situation. They stood here, and now no one can get through because they themselves are blocking the exit. And they don't understand it."
She thought for a moment, then turned to one of the nearby journalists and said:
"Excuse me, but we really need to get through. Do you realize that you're standing here and not giving us a chance to get out?"
The journalist with glasses looked at her again, as if realizing what had just been said, but then answered in confusion:
"Well... I suppose so, but we're all here to get important information. You understand that if you want to talk to us, you have to wait your turn."
The fat man shrugged his shoulders with displeasure and replied:
"What kind of day is this! We also have important things to do, and you are here with your interviews and questions about ambassadors."
Then they turned and, in a quiet agreement, decided to make their way through the crowd. Delia Asia Vieira looked at all these people once again and realized that their problems were not her problems. And if they didn't realize that they were standing right in the way of the exit, then they had to figure it out themselves.
"Listen," she said with determination, "if you want to know something really important, then clear the way. We need to get through, and we're not going to stand here and argue. And if you want an interview, we'll find a moment somewhere else."
The journalists fell silent, and many of them began to realize that they were indeed in the way. They began to back away, allowing Delia, Gene, and Fatso to finally make their way to the exit.
When they were finally free, Fatso turned around and said with a grin:
"Well, guys, now they can tell all their readers about it. Who knew that journalists could be such an obstacle."
Delia Asia Vieira smiled at the corners of her lips and paused to catch her breath. The air was fresh, but at the same time tense. Everything was happening too fast, and now that they were standing at the exit, it seemed as if this moment was somehow more important than just a step into reality.