"How much time passed?"
[System: Ten minutes.]
"Fuck, what are they doing?"
[System: My guess is that they haven't figured out a plan to kill you yet, but they're working on it.]
"You are pessimistic once again, there is no way they are going to kill me." César said, and this time he was right.
With all of what Peter and Hoffa saw through the camera, and what Sirina said to them on the way out, they knew there was something off, and it was not just about the whole cartel thing, but they realized that it might be much deeper than that, because there is no way the Director of the NSA would just say that out of nowhere.
She heard something, she knew something that they didn't, and that is the worst thing to feel.
Why the fuck would she say that in the first place?
That single sentence kept looping in their heads. People like her didn't speak carelessly, not at that level, not with that kind of weight behind their words. Hoffa and Peter found themselves thinking harder than they wanted to, arguing over who should go in first, who should talk to César, who should open the conversation, who should risk saying the wrong thing.
It was simply too much, happening far too fast. One moment, everything was running as usual, the next, César himself fucks up the whole operation and before they could even process it, the head of the NSA shows up, talks to him in private, and drops a single line that sounded less like a warning "Stay away from him, because if you don't, you'll both be fucked."
In short, both Hoffa and Peter began overcomplicating everything… just like Sirina had.
There were simply too many coincidences, too many events aligning in ways that felt impossible to be random. Because of that, they began piecing it together into a narrative of their own.
Still, even if their conclusions were wrong, they knew there was only one way to reach the truth and to understand what César actually wanted.
They had to go in… and they did.
"Oh… Peter." César said as they walked in, but there was something off. Somehow, Peter was no longer just a ghost, and Hoffa, standing next to him, looked calm and collected.
"Yeah." Peter began as he sat down, but avoided eye contact with César. "This is the Chief of the Capital Police—"
"Hoffa Rivecci." César interrupted, his eyes locked on Hoffa.
"Exactly." Hoffa spoke, still calm and collected. "So… may I ask who you are and why you're here?
"Maybe because two of your officers tried to kill me, or maybe because I busted the drug operation you've got going with the street gangsters… oh, and let's not forget, they were planning to rape a judge." He smiled a bit. "I think you guys forgot the whole 'protecting' part of your oath… or not at all, you didn't forget. You're protecting the gangsters so they can sell the drugs, huh?"
That smile on César's face annoyed Hoffa so much that his calm began to crack. It wasn't just a smile of someone looking down on them… it was the smile of someone who truly believed he was above them.
"Never thought a sicario would try to lecture me on an oath, one that kills for a living." Hoffa answered, but he didn't expect the kinda o freson that came from César.
"Sicario…?" César asked, a small smile appearing on his face… and he started laughing.
And for Hoffa and Peter, the laugh was enough to now completely break the calm behavior they had been putting on… but Hoffa still wanted somehow to be the one to control the situation.
"Then who are you?" The moment Hoffa asked, César's laugh abruptly stopped… like he just stopped laughing like he was completely crazy or mentally ill.
"Me? Hmm. Chaos Bringer? The Hangman? El Diablo?" He shook his head slightly. "These are cringe and embarrassing nicknames, and to be true, I am neither of them." A smile appeared again. "I am César Sierra, and nothing more, nothing less."
"César Sierra… what if I say I don't give a single fuck about your psychopathic smile and behavior, and just kill you right now, right here?" Hoffa asked as he pulled his gun from the holster and placed it on the table, all while keeping his eyes on César. "You have no name in the city, no power, nor influence. All you are is a young motherfucker who wants to act tough, and I don't give a fuck about what happened between you and Sirina, so stop playing this game before I let a bullet into your skull."
It was something else, so sudden, so different from what César had expected to happen.
Moreover, Peter's reaction told him this wasn't what they had talked about, as he once again looked like a ghost, shaking, his eyes fixed on the gun, while Hoffa himself looked angry, then scared, which meant all of this was an impulsive emotional outbreak that wasn't planned, which also meant César could counter it.
"Interesting, but—
[System Alert: Time Trial Event has begun! — [Objective: Kill Hoffa Rivecci] — [Reward: 1× Special Card]
[Warning: If the Event is not completed in time, all of your Special Cards will be deducted.]
[Time Remaining: 10 minutes]
The way César froze down mid-sentence was something truly mesmerizing, like he became a statue… didn't blink, didn't breathe, didn't say anything, just completely froze as the System window was flashing red in front of him.
Eh… w-what…?
[System: You have 10 minutes to complete the objective. If you don't complete the objective in time, all of your Special Cards you currently hold will be deducted.]
Well, things truly got interesting, and with it came a question that needed to be answered.
What's worth more?
A Special Card that has the ability to revive you, or Hoffa, who is the ticket to the money, who has built up a criminal organization, has routers, production, and connections?
César needed to answer it fast… pretty fast.