Chapter 54 — The Rougher the Seas, the Pricier the Catch… and Targeting Mandy
Of course, Veronica wasn't going to be an easy reward.
Getting the reward? Easy.
But stepping into her life meant stepping into the hurricane of Prison Break.
In that story, Veronica's ex — the protagonist's brother Lincoln Burrows — and the protagonist Michael Scofield were both hunted because:
Their father was an agent of a covert U.S. intelligence division
He defected with classified information
And the agency framed Lincoln for assassination in order to flush the father out
The operation involved:
Democrats
The CIA
The Secret Service
And a shadow organization masked as an "energy company"
So however William involved himself, it would not stay small.
If Lincoln went down, Veronica would never sit still.
She would launch her own private crusade — appeals, counterinvestigations, sabotage — until agents started disappearing and she got "removed."
If William got the reward, he would absolutely get dragged into it.
But then he thought about his current and upcoming toolkit:
Self-Healing Factor
Disease Transfer
(Soon) Metal Manipulation
(Soon) Venom Immunity
And Eagle-Eye Vision, if he pulled off this mission
Even if the FBI / CIA / Secret Service / National Guard / Navy SEALs came knocking?
He was pretty sure he wouldn't die.
So the decision became simple:
He was taking Veronica's reward. Period.
William slipped her business card into his wallet.
"Fiona, get off. Is your house empty right now?"
Fiona shook her head. "Yeah. No one's home."
She obediently returned to the passenger seat.
That entire morning, Fiona and William reenacted scenes that would get any content moderator fired instantly.
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Afternoon — South Side
After dropping Fiona off at her restaurant job, William drove alone through the rough blocks of Chicago's South Side.
At the motel parking lot, he parked, cracked open a new flip-phone box, inserted an unregistered SIM, and—
knock knock
He turned.
Svetlana was standing right outside the window.
He rolled it down.
"How did you know it was me?" William asked.
"Your windshield is transparent, boss."
Clearly, Svetlana had been waiting for him the whole day.
She got into the passenger seat carrying the black duffel William gave her yesterday.
"This is for you. Employee benefit."
William tossed her the newly activated phone.
Svetlana nodded, pocketing it without melodrama.
"Thank you, Boss."
She looked different today — dressed like a normal woman, not like a neon-lit window display from the red-light district.
William started the car.
"Any thoughts on distribution?"
In truth, he knew nothing about arms dealing — but an M9 pistol was hardly difficult merchandise.
"I contacted an old acquaintance this morning. He has channels."
She said it casually.
William glanced over.
Her expression was flat — too flat.
He could tell she wasn't telling the whole truth.
"Svetlana," he said calmly, "I only care about one thing — the green kind. Unless a situation becomes big enough to hit the news, I won't ask questions."
Whether she was transparent or not didn't matter. What mattered was output.
A few minutes later, they reached a narrow street. Svetlana gave the address; William parked.
"From here on, it's your show."
She stepped out without a word — pure action, no theatrics.
After she disappeared into the distance, William pulled out a second brand-new flip phone — also unregistered — and dialed.
Not far away, Svetlana froze at the ringtone, confused how anyone already had this number.
She turned, and saw William casually leaning on the steering wheel.
"When you finish selling this batch, call this number. I'll arrange the next step."
He hung up immediately — no conversation necessary — then floored the accelerator and vanished around the corner.
Svetlana watched the BMW until it disappeared, then stored the number and walked toward a nearby house carrying the black duffel.
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Same Time — Hospital Parking Lot
Inside a beat-up pickup truck, T-Bag twirled a butterfly knife open and shut like a circus act — right in front of a gagged and battered Frank Gallagher.
"Frank," he said with a singsong drawl, "I'm going in to collect the corpse you want. But you know what happens if you lied to me, right?"
The blade gleamed two millimeters from Frank's cheek.
"Careful with that thing, man — it's sharp!"
Frank still couldn't resist running his mouth — the man would spit sarcasm mid-execution if he had to.
"You'd better not be lying to me."
T-Bag grinned — a wolfish grin full of uneven yellow teeth that had seen some things.
And Frank, for the first time in a while, looked genuinely afraid.
Frank stared at T-Bag's wide grin — teeth crooked, yellowed, and framed by gums that somehow made the smile even filthier.
"I swear I'm not lying," Frank gulped hard, terrified.
T-Bag really had scared the life out of him.
"Why the hell would I lie to you? I'm actually a man of my word!" Frank babbled.
"Look — this is my will! Once you get me the corpse, I submit this, and the house becomes mine."
T-Bag's expression didn't change.
He just kept smiling — that slow, predatory smile.
"You'd better be telling the truth."
With that, he opened the truck door and got out.
The moment he disappeared from view, Frank finally exhaled.
Frank Gallagher was a shameless scumbag — but he still wasn't a psychopath.
And T-Bag? Even Frank had heard the stories.
A man with bodies in his past.
A man who didn't just kill — he enjoyed killing.
And he didn't stop at adults.
A serial killer, a predator, and a monster wrapped in human skin.
Even a human cockroach like Frank felt fear in front of that kind of sickness.
Meanwhile — South Side
William was driving down a cracked street when a familiar silhouette stepped into view.
He eased off the gas.
"Hey, sweetheart."
Mandy Milkovich was walking alone, hands shoved in her jacket, chewing gum like it owed her money.
"Fuck off. I'm not a hooker."
She didn't even look — just spit venom, assuming he was another creep cruising for street girls.
"Relax. Mandy Milkovich — we met at Ian's house. Remember?"
Mandy frowned, turned, and stared for a long second.
"…Sorry. Nope. Don't remember."
Yeah — that tracked.
Pure-love bruiser? Yes.
Sharp memory? Not so much.
William approached her for two reasons:
1. His mission — she was a valuable piece in the puzzle
2. Svetlana needed muscle — and Mandy was perfect henchman material
Because if Svetlana later built her empire entirely with her own recruits, William would eventually become nothing but a supplier.
That was not acceptable.
So, it was time to bring Mandy into his structure first.
"No big deal. Get in," William said, unlocking the passenger door. "I've got a job. Interested?"
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