"Boss! We caught him!"
The shout cut through the warehouse with loud footsteps of men.
Ash sat in a metal chair near the far wall, one leg crossed over the other. Smoke curled from the cigarette between his fingers.
The dim light above him buzzed, flickering against concrete stained with oil and old blood.
He turned his head slowly.
Black hair fell into his eyes. Blue eyes, cold and sharp, lifted to the man running toward him.
Ash didn't smile. He just stared at him.
He took one last drag, then crushed the cigarette against the arm of the chair.
"Bring him in," he said.
He stood. His assistant was already there, holding his coat open. Ash slipped his arms in, the fabric heavy against his shoulders. A gun was placed into his palm.
Familiar weight. It was comforting to him. Guns were his favorite things.
Two men dragged someone from the shadows.
The man kicked and thrashed, shoes scraping the floor. His breath came fast and loud, panic leaking from every sound.
"No!! Please-!"
They threw him down.
His knees hit the ground hard. The sound echoed.
"Ow!"
Ash stepped forward, boots heavy, footsteps slow. He stopped just close enough for the man to see his face clearly.
"Talk," Ash said.
The man's eyes were wide. Tears streaked through the dirt on his cheeks.
"Please…please spare me. I-I'm not the mole…!"
Ash's fist moved without warning.
His fist landed on the man's face.
The man flew sideways, crashing onto the floor. Blood sprayed from his mouth. He groaned, curling in on himself.
"Argh. Cough!"
Ash crouched, his voice calm. "Talk now or die. Who planted you here? What did that person order you to do?"
The man coughed, red staining his lips. He laughed weakly, almost broken. "J-just kill me already."
Ash straightened and sighed, rubbing his brow.
"Beat him," he said. "Until he talks. Don't overdo it."
He turned away. His men nodded.
The sounds followed him…fists, boots, wet gasps. He didn't slow his steps.
An hour passed.
Ash returned.
The man barely looked alive now. His face was swollen, eyes half-closed, blood drying in dark lines. He wheezed with every breath.
"Did he talk?" Ash asked.
His men shook their heads.
"No, boss. Not a word."
Another man stepped forward, holding a thin black folder. "But we found this in his apartment."
Ash took it. Photos. Exchanged messages.Names. A connection. Another mole.
His eyes lifted back to the broken body on the floor.
"Sit him up."
Hands grabbed the man's arms, forcing him upright.
Ash raised his gun.
"If you won't talk," he said, "your friend will."
The man's mouth opened in a scream.
Bang.
His body dropped on the cold hard floor. Lifeless.
Silence followed.
"Clear it," Ash said.
"Yes, boss."
ৎ────
Later, the room filled with voices.
Leaders gathered around a long table. Maps spread out. Routes. Numbers. Faces marked in red.
Ash stood at the head, arms crossed.
"We have leaks," he said. "Small ones. But they lead somewhere."
Arguments rose. Accusations. Ash listened, eyes observing their reactions, catching lies in the way people avoided looking at him.
When it ended, nothing felt certain. He can see through their lies.
So he left.
ৎ────
Night wrapped the city in neon and rain.
Ash's black car cut through traffic, it stood out among the others. The city lights slid over the windshield. He didn't look at them.
His large house was quiet. He lives alone.
He tossed his coat aside and dropped onto the couch. His body felt heavy. More tired than usual. Ash stood up and picked the cigarette box on the table.
He lit another cigarette and stared out the window.
That was when a light appeared.
"?"
At first, it looked like a reflection. Then it moved. It became larger as it was floating towards him.
White. Glowing. Floating closer.
Ash's hand went to his gun.
Then suddenly, the window burst open with a sharp crack.
"What the-!"
The light stopped in front of him and filled the room. Ash approached it slowly. The white light was moving in a rhythm.
It glowed so bright then it rushed at him.
"!!"
Pain exploded in his head. Ash stumbled back, both hands in his head.
"W-What's this!"
A voice whispered through the ringing.
"Asla-… come back. He's waiting."
"Huh?"
Ash staggered, clutching his head.
Then-
Darkness.
"Aslan!" A faint voice.
He woke up gasping.
"Huff!"
The ceiling stared back at him. He sat up fast, heart pounding.
"A dream…?" he muttered, one hand on his forehead.
"What a weird dream."
But when his eyes landed on the window. The window was open. Ash remembered that he never left the windows open.
Ash stared at it for a long time.
ৎ────
The next day.
Five men knelt on the cold floor. Their hands were tied. Their heads bowed, there were bruises on their faces. Fear hung thick in the air.
Ash stood in front of them. They knew what he was going to say.
"It's not me!" one shouted.
"I didn't do anything!" the other followed.
"I swear!"
Ash raised his gun.
"Talk," he said.
The first man sobbed. "I don't know anything!"
Without a second thought.
Bang.
The body fell sideways.
The second man screamed, shaking. "Please…boss! I'm loyal!"
Bang.
The three others screamed louder than the gunshot.
Ash turned to the third guy.
"I-I'll talk!" the man cried. "I'll talk! Please spare me! I'll tell you everything…don't kill me."
Ash lowered the gun.
"Good," he said and gestured to 4 of his men. "Make sure he tells everything."
"Everything. If not, torture him." Ash added while he stared coldly at the guy.
"Yes boss." They dragged him inside a room.
Ash walked away as screams followed.
ৎ────
Later, Ash stood before a large office door.
Giovanni Ricci's. Their main boss. He's 57 years old.
He entered without knocking.
The room smelled of sweat and alcohol. Giovanni stood behind his desk, his lower body slamming against a younger guy underneath him. The sound of his thrusts echoes inside the room.
"Ahh! Ahh!"