"Don't get burned by revenge as a dish best served cold." ― Tamerlan Kuzgov

* * * *

Leonid O'Boyle regretted stepping foot into Zalfari the moment his boots touched its dusty stone paths, the thick tension in the air wrapping around his chest like a slowly tightening vice.

Every step felt like a mistake, a silent challenge thrown at fate. He followed Lucas reluctantly, each footfall through the narrow streets of the underground stronghold echoing like a warning.

Both men wore their civilian attire, an attempt at blending in, though Leonid knew full well how futile that was. Their presence was already known.

Un-welcomed. Watched.

There were eyes on them—hundreds of them, it felt like. Hidden behind windows, lingering in alleyway shadows, disguised in the faces of vendors, street gang members, and aimless passersby.

Zalfari breathed suspicion and bled resentment. Especially for the ESA.

Even the most naïve agents in the higher ranks of the ESA knew what had transpired here years ago: the brutal raid that left the town scorched and bloodied, its previous guardians slaughtered.

It should have been a death knell for the place. But Zalfari didn't die.

The Premier wasted no time installing a new guardian, and in the two years since, the town hadn't just recovered. It had evolved, swelling in size and strength under the shroud of its own fury.

The ESA liked to pretend it still held dominion over Eldario. Zalfari proved otherwise.

This was Abyss territory. Not whispered rumours. Not half-truths. Fact.

A rare, open stronghold of the underground, where the very earth breathed rebellion and the walls bore the scars of war the government had long tried to forget. Nearly every inhabitant in Zalfari had a connection to the underground, if not the Abyss directly. They made no apologies for it.

Frankly, Leonid was amazed the underground hadn't declared war after the raid. That they hadn't marched on the hunter strongholds with fire and blood after Whirlwind was wiped out along with half the town.

Perhaps they were just waiting. Watching. Planning.

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this," Leonid muttered under his breath, one hand subtly brushing the concealed weapon at his hip for what felt like the hundredth time. "If we walk out of here missing our skin, or worse, I'm only going to say 'I told you so'."

Though Lucas had his back to him, Leonid could practically see the eye-roll in his best friend's posture. "We're just here to get some info," Lucas replied flatly.

Leonid grumbled under his breath. "Remind me to give you a crash course on how the underground works." Or better yet, he'd have Elijah or Taylor hammer it into his skull. Maybe even both.

Lucas paused at a street corner, glancing at the slip of paper in his hand. His dark eyes flicked up to a nearby building. "The Black Cat," he murmured, nodding toward the two-storey structure bearing a wooden sign carved with the face of a black cat, its golden eyes gleaming unnervingly in the glow of street-lamps. Beneath it, in looping script, the name of the bar was etched. "Just like Elijah told us."

Leonid narrowed his eyes, reading the space more than the words.

Outwardly, the bar was unassuming, a regular drinking hole like dozens in Eldario. But Leonid wasn't fooled.

He had learned to read the signs over the years—the way the door was reinforced, the subtle glint of a hidden camera in the eaves, the faint scent of steel oil and gunpowder masked beneath alcohol and smoke.

This wasn't just a bar. This was a sanctuary. A meeting point. A safehouse. Possibly a place to buy death with a handshake and a coin.

He had no doubt now: The Black Cat was affiliated with the Abyss.

These places weren't rare—just well hidden. They existed across the nation, masked as laundromats, brothels, tea shops, and even antique stores. Places civilians walked past every day, unaware of the weight they carried.

But Zalfari didn't bother with disguises. Zalfari was bold. Zalfari dared you to look, and then dared you to try something.

And the hunters? The ESA? They didn't dare. Not here.

Leonid's every nerve screamed as Lucas pushed open the door. A bell above tinkled mockingly. The warmth of the bar, both literal and metaphorical, hit him like a wall.

It was Friday night, and the place was crowded. A young singer perched on the slightly elevated stage in the corner, strumming a guitar with practiced ease, his voice threading through the smoky air. Glasses clinked. Chairs scraped. Murmurs rose and fell.

Until Lucas and Leonid walked in.

A hush descended like a falling blade. Every pair of eyes turned toward them—measuring, weighing, and judging.

Leonid swallowed hard.

He could already see how this would end: with a bullet to the back, or a drink laced with something, or a knife in the ribs. If they walked out of here alive, he'd consider it divine intervention.

They walked toward the far end of the bar, where a lone man sat nursing a drink—messy black hair streaked with silver-white, sharp green-gold eyes that flickered towards the pair as they approached.

"Are you Ethan?" Lucas asked, calm and clear, not missing a beat. "Elijah sent us."

Ethan's lips quirked, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "He told me you'd be coming." He gestured lazily toward the two empty chairs. "I think I know what this is about. Sit."

Leonid noticed the bartender shift behind the bar, a hand inching beneath the counter. But a single, almost imperceptible shake of the head from Ethan stilled him. The music resumed, along with a few half-hearted conversations. But the eyes hadn't left them. They never would.

"I have no idea how much Elijah told you—" Lucas began.

"Nothing," Ethan cut him off. "He just said I should hear you out. Something about Aegis?"

That word was a key. It turned heads. The music didn't pause, but Leonid could feel the attention pivot like iron filings to a magnet.

He wouldn't have been surprised if the singer forgot his own lyrics.

"I'll go straight to the point, then," Lucas said smoothly. Leonid didn't know whether to admire his composure or slap it out of him. "Aegis. Do you know who they are?"

Ethan leaned back, his cigarette now lit, a slow curl of smoke winding upward. "Everyone in the underground knows them. Civilians too. Aegis hasn't exactly been subtle this past year. And after the thing with The Butcher…" He exhaled the smoke directly in their faces, watching them through it. "Well, even the rats in the sewer know that name now."

Leonid flinched inwardly. Walden. The infamous hunter. Torturer. Monster.

His death was a cold echo through the underground. Brutal. Poetic. Already joining the mountain of unsolved cases that were undeniably the work of Aegis.

The reports never said it outright, but the journalists, those brave or reckless enough, wrote between the lines. None of them mourned the man. Not even the state. No one wept for The Butcher.

"Do you know who the members of Aegis are?" Lucas asked again.

Ethan took another drag of his cigarette. The silence stretched just a little too long. Then he flicked ash into the tray and exhaled.

"I wonder," he murmured. There was something hard in his eyes now. "Considering Elijah referred you to me, and I actually like the guy, I'll give you some free advice. Just one." He leaned forward, his tone dipping to something colder, deadlier. "Stop digging into Aegis. And if you don't, don't use underground contacts. You do that, and losing your skin will be the least of your worries."

Lucas ignored the warning, as if the words slid right past him. "You can tell us something, can't you? About their leader, Zero? I'll pay you. Whatever you need."

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Ethan's gaze turned sharp. Offended. "Pay me?" he repeated, his voice low, dangerous now. "You think this is about money?"

Leonid felt the shift. The air had changed. Something sharper coiled beneath Ethan's words, like a knife glinting just beneath the surface.

"I'm an informant, yeah. But I have rules. And I don't talk about Zero. No one with half a brain does. Only the suicidal would want to cross the path of Aegis and Zero. The last person who tried…" Ethan shrugged. "Let's just say there's a reason no one's seen her face since."

Somewhere in the room, someone snorted.

Lucas pressed. "Is Zero a man or a woman? Are they Gifted?"

Ethan exhaled slowly, green eyes gleaming like broken glass. "Here's the only thing I'll say. In the Abyss, most power structures are still male-dominated. But occasionally, a woman comes along who doesn't just survive, she conquers. The Premier, for example. Or Zero. And from my experience, it is women that are the most dangerous of all."

Leonid leaned forward. "So Zero is—"

"I said what I said." Ethan crushed the cigarette into the tray. "You got your free warning. For Elijah's sake. Don't expect another."

"You can tell us something, surely? What Aegis is doing now, it isn't right—"

"Tell me something. You both are Gifted, aren't you?" Ethan cut Lucas off without so much as a warning, the disdain in his voice unmistakable. "Why are you even with the ESA?"

"W-What do you mean?"

Ethan exhaled, long and tired, as though the very question exhausted him. "As an informant, I hear things. Things most people aren't supposed to. I've got ears in places that would make your director lose sleep. And from what I know?" He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowed. "Your director might not be the worst, but she's not in control. The hunters are. Everyone down here knows it. Hell, their grip on the ESA is so tight it's a miracle she still breathes freely. The ESA you serve? Half of it answers to the hunters—your supposed allies. The same bastards who'd cage or butcher people like you without a second thought. So I ask again, why are you helping them? Why are you turning your back on your own kind?"

His words struck with uncomfortable accuracy. Leonid flinched before he could stop himself. It wasn't the first time he'd thought about that.

That question—why stay?—had haunted him for years. If not for Tiara, and the handful of decent agents left who hadn't yet sold their souls, he would've walked away long ago.

But walking away from the ESA wasn't a choice. Not truly.

No one leaves the ESA. Not alive.

"What Aegis is doing isn't exactly right either—"

"And the ESA is?" Ethan shot him a look that cut clean through the room. "What happens when you apprehend Gifted now? Go ahead, humour me. Tell me. Or better yet, don't." He scoffed. "You hand them over to the hunters, don't you? And you think they get rehabilitated? Protected? Bullshit. You know what happens. How many of them come back out? How many have you seen again?"

Leonid didn't answer. He couldn't. He didn't need to say it. He had seen the cages. Heard the screaming. Watched bodies carried out wrapped in plastic, unmarked and unnamed.

The silence that followed Ethan's question was the answer.

"Then you think Aegis has the right idea?" Lucas asked, his voice taut.

Ethan didn't hesitate. "When the law shelters murderers and the supposed guardians of peace sell their souls to tyrants, yeah. I think Aegis has the right idea. Maybe we'll never know exactly why they've done what they've done. But I can guess. Too many have died—Gifted, Normals, children, families, because of the hunters. And the ESA stood by. Maybe not all of you, but enough. So yeah. To you, Aegis is the threat. But to the streets? To the Gifted out there hiding for their lives? They're our shield. Our only one." He set his glass down with a soft but resolute clink. "When the protectors become the monsters, then monsters are what we turn to for protection."

"Elijah said something similar," Leonid admitted quietly.

A flicker of amusement crossed Ethan's expression. "He would," he said with a shrug. "ESA badge or not, he was one of us once. Elijah knows where his heart lies. And it sure as hell isn't with the council or the ESA. Whatever his reasons are for joining that goddess-forsaken organisation that you call the ESA, he will never turn on us. Same with Taylor."

Lucas stiffened at the mention of his teammate. It wasn't a secret where Elijah's loyalties leaned, but hearing it confirmed like that, hearing it spoken so easily by someone from the underground, still unsettled him.

"We're getting off topic," Lucas cut in, eyes narrowing. "You won't tell us anything, will you?"

Ethan's smirk deepened. He didn't bother to answer. He didn't need to. Everyone knew Ethan Simmons was one of the most sought-after informants in the underground. But he was also one of the most dangerous. Unpredictable. He played by his own rules, and his loyalty, once given, was carved in iron.

ESA agents who had dealings with Ethan in the past had mentioned how dealing with him is a double-edged sword in essence.

"My allegiance is to the underground. To her. To Zero," Ethan said plainly. "She earned that name. Every one of them in Aegis did. If you make them your enemies, then you better dig your own graves. There's no force in Eldario mad enough to want Aegis on the warpath. Not even you ESA types. If you're thinking of chasing her, then I suggest you start preparing your last rites."

Silence fell again, heavy and unrelenting. Lucas's jaw tightened, his glare unwavering, but Ethan didn't flinch. If anything, he looked entertained by the show of defiance.

"Lucas," Leonid said under his breath, a quiet warning meant only for his friend's ears.

"I will find out who Zero is," Lucas said through clenched teeth.

Ethan didn't so much as blink. "I wish you luck. You'll need it." Then his eyes flickered past Lucas's shoulder, and his grin widened. "You're also going to need luck getting out of this bar alive."

"What?"

The noise died in an instant. It was like a switch had been flipped.

Chairs stopped scraping. Conversations halted mid-sentence. A stillness overtook the room, thick and unnatural.

Lucas and Leonid turned just in time to see the crowd parting—like shadows peeling away from fire. Two figures advanced slowly: a man and a woman, their eyes sharp, faces unreadable, yet utterly commanding. People moved aside without hesitation, without protest. Reverence, or fear, cleared the path.

Leroy and Alisa.

Even the name carried weight in Zalfari.

"Leroy. Alisa." Ethan didn't rise. He gave a lazy nod, his posture relaxed, though even he didn't feign casualness now. "The barkeep called you? I could have handled it."

Alisa said nothing at first, her gaze settling coldly on the two agents. Her ocean-blue eyes flicked over them once—calculating and sharp, like she was measuring how much blood they'd spill if this went south.

"Trouble?" she asked simply.

"I can handle it."

"ESA?" Leroy's voice was quieter, but it carried an edge like a drawn blade. His gaze turned accusingly toward Ethan. "What are they doing here?"

"Intel." Ethan shrugged. "They're sniffing after Aegis."

Both guardians' eyes narrowed in unison.

Lucas and Leonid didn't miss the motion of their hands dropping to their sides—where, beneath their coats, the unmistakable outlines of holsters bulged beneath the fabric.

Trained killers. Street legends. Guardians of Eldario's most dangerous town. Even ESA agents thought twice about crossing them.

"I didn't say anything," Ethan was quick to assure them. "You know I'm not stupid enough to cross her. I saw what happened to the last idiot who tried. I'm not eager to end up like her." He held Leroy's gaze evenly. "I'd bleed before I betray her. You know that."

Alisa exhaled, her expression unreadable. "Sometimes I wonder what she did to earn that kind of loyalty from you."

Ethan just smiled.

"Who are you both?" Lucas asked, though wariness coated every syllable. "Zalfari's guardians?"

"Unfortunately for you," Leroy replied, "yes. I'm the one who keeps this town from burning. And make no mistake, I saw you the second you crossed the border." His eyes narrowed. "Leonid O'Boyle. Lucas Alescio."

A ripple of whispers spread through the bar like fire catching dry timber.

"'Alescio'?"

"He just said Alescio, didn't he?"

"Is he…related to that man?"

Venom laced the stares now turned toward Lucas, and confusion flickered across his face as hatred he hadn't earned was levelled at him from every corner of the room.

Alisa sighed sharply, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear—a casual movement that revealed the unmistakable dagger tattoo inked into the soft skin of her left wrist.

Leonid's eyes narrowed instantly. "That tattoo… You're survivors of Blade."

It wasn't a question. It didn't need to be.

No one—no sane person, no poser or wannabe, would dare brand themselves with Blade's insignia unless they had earned the right to survive its fall.

Lucas's voice dropped. "Blade? That gang? The one the hunters wiped out?"

"Not all of us," Leroy said coldly. "You tried. But you didn't get us all."

And this time, when he smiled, it was a predator's smile. The kind you saw just before the trap snapped shut.

"I also have a certain message from Zero to pass on to you," Alisa said flatly, her voice as cool and smooth as ice. Both ESA agents turned sharply toward her, every nerve suddenly on edge. "'The children are fine,'" she said, quoting the words with eerie calm.

Leonid blinked. "'Children'?"

It took Lucas only seconds to connect the dots. His eyes darkened. "The missing children… The ones held captive by the Butcher," he murmured. "The same children our teams were searching for."

"Yes," Alisa confirmed, her arms crossed as she spoke with a quiet certainty that brooked no argument. "We found them. They're safe now. They're being cared for by people who won't treat them like bargaining chips or test subjects. When they're ready, they'll be given a choice. Return to what life they once had—if that life still exists, or start anew in the Abyss. That choice is theirs. Not yours. And we will fight tooth and nail to make sure they get the freedom you never gave them."

"They can't be allowed—"

"Excuse me?"

The sharp crack of flesh against wood jolted the table with startling force. Ethan had slammed both palms down hard enough to rattle the glasses.

He wasn't smirking now.

For the first time, the informant's casual demeanour cracked, revealing something hot and volatile beneath the surface. Anger radiated from his voice, his green-flecked eyes burning with disbelief.

"'Can't be allowed'?" he echoed, the words venomous in his mouth. "What gives you the right to decide what happens to those kids? After what they've been through? After what the ESA and your hunter friends let happen?"

Lucas instinctively backpedaled, his tone faltering. "We just want to make sure they're taken care of—"

"And you think we can't do that?" Leroy's voice cut in, low and cold, like steel pulled across stone.

Lucas turned to see the man standing tall behind Ethan, chestnut-brown eyes sharp as razors. His handsome face, framed by tousled reddish-orange hair, was twisted into something fierce—contempt, fury, and disgust all bleeding together.

"If anything," Leroy continued, "they're better off with us. Because we don't see them as liabilities. We don't hand them over to monsters. We protect our own. Can the same be said of your kind?"

Lucas opened his mouth, but no words came. There was too much weight in the room now—thick, suffocating, and almost tangible.

Leonid didn't even let him try. A swift stomp to Lucas's foot snapped him back into silence. Leonid didn't so much as look at him. His eyes were locked on Leroy.

"Don't argue," Leonid muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Lucas to hear. "Not here. Not now."

Leroy's gaze never wavered. "You ESA agents," he sneered, "you're all the same. No better than the hunters you pretend to hate. Arrogant. Self-righteous. So convinced of your moral high ground that you can't see the rot beneath your feet."

Lucas flinched. Leroy's words, calm as they were, cut with precision honed over years of battle-hardened survival.

"You think justice is still alive in Eldario? Look around you." Leroy gestured toward the door—toward the ramshackle skyline beyond, toward Zalfari. "You think the laws written in those marble halls up north mean anything down here? You ever seen what happens to a Gifted child caught alone in a council-controlled city? Or worse, a hunter-controlled city? You ever cleaned up their bodies?"

A heavy silence followed.

"You know damn well how this system works," Leroy continued. "You know how the ESA turns a blind eye when it suits them. You both know what happens when Gifted are 'taken in for questioning.' You've seen it. You've let it happen. And then you dare walk into my town and tell me what can or can't be allowed?" His eyes narrowed to slits. "I don't care what rank you hold. You're not welcome here."

Lucas looked like he wanted to respond, but Leonid was already moving. He knew a warning when he heard one—and this wasn't just a warning. It was the final thread of mercy holding back the storm.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome," Leonid said stiffly, his voice flat.

He grabbed Lucas by the arm, not gently, and turned him toward the door. He didn't let go until they had left The Black Cat, until the cold, grimy air of Zalfari's winding streets hit them.

Until they were well and truly away from them.

Only then did Lucas yank his arm free. "I can walk, you know," he snapped, rubbing his arm.

Leonid rounded on him immediately. "Elijah and I both warned you," he said sharply. "We told you not to talk like that in there. Not about Aegis. And never, ever, about the ESA. Especially not the hunters. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I just got frustrated," Lucas muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't mean—"

"You almost got us killed." Leonid's voice was clipped and furious. "Do you know who they are? Leroy and Alisa? Survivors of Blade. Blade, Lucas. That's not just a name down here. It's legend. It's blood. They're killers, tacticians, and survivors of a slaughter that the hunters celebrated. And now they protect Zalfari like war gods in exile. Even the other underground factions know better than to challenge them."

Lucas stilled.

"They're not Gifted," Leonid continued, "and yet no one dares cross them. Not because they're brutal, though they can be, but because they've earned it. Because Zalfari would burn before it let them fall. They're not leaders because they declared it. They're leaders because no one else was strong enough to hold this town together."

Leonid exhaled, quieter now. "The underground doesn't follow rules like we do. They follow survival. If I hadn't dragged you out of there, we wouldn't be breathing right now."

Lucas stayed silent, absorbing every word. After a long pause, he murmured, "Zero… They know who they are."

Leonid gave a dry, bitter laugh. "If they do, they sure as hell aren't telling us." He looked back toward Zalfari's shadowed skyline. "If there's one thing you should've learned today, it's this—whatever information we dig up about Aegis or Zero, it won't come from this place. Not Zalfari. Not from Ethan. Not from Leroy. Not from anyone down here. This place is a tomb for secrets. You press too hard, and you'll be buried in one."

Lucas finally looked up. "So what now?"

Leonid's eyes narrowed. "Now? We stay quiet. We watch. And we hope to the Goddess that the next time we meet them, it's not with guns drawn."

Lucas's thoughts were far away now, echoing a name that had haunted him since the war began.

"Zero," he whispered again. "Just who are they?"

* * * *

In The Black Cat, Ethan watched the doors of the bar even as it swung shut behind the pair of ESA agents even as the taller of the pair dragged his shorter companion out. He definitely wouldn't be surprised if the pair had hightailed it out of Zalfari.

Sighing, Ethan met with the grim gazes of Leroy and Alisa. They knew that this day would come; when ESA agents or even hunters come poking about in Zalfari about Aegis.

"Someone should get the word out to Sera," Ethan said at last. "She needs to be warned."

Leroy sighed and nodded. "I'm on it."

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