Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Two-Pronged Approach
Brian followed the sleazy man into a room, which appeared to be a small dining area. A table in the center was laid with some food, and four men sat around it, drinking coffee. As Brian entered, they all stared at him with unfriendly eyes.
Brian seemed utterly unfazed by their attitudes, casually ordering the sleazy man who led him in, "Get me a black coffee, with a sugar cube."
His demeanor seemed to surprise the occupants of the room, who couldn't help but glance up at him. Brian, nonchalant, had noticed upon entering that each man had tattoos of moons and stars on their hands, confirming Owen's intelligence was accurate.
"What do you want?" the sleazy man whispered something to a bearded man, who couldn't help but ask.
Brian didn't rush his response. Instead, he took the coffee handed to him, added some milkshake from a small pitcher on the table, and a teaspoon of sugar before saying, "I'm here to talk about prices."
"We've already discussed this with Mr. Mecon," another man with a goatee hastily said.
"Mecon's been transferred elsewhere. I'm in charge here now, and we need to renegotiate the prices."
Brian paused, satisfied with their silence, nodded, and after taking a sip of his coffee, remarked, "Mmm, good taste… If there are no objections, then I'll continue…"
His tone suddenly changed, pointing upwards, "Look at the sky. You probably don't know, but our satellites monitor you 24/7. Everything you do or say, we know.
Do you have any idea how much it costs just to change the angle of a satellite's camera orbiting 100 kilometers above Earth? Huh? And the cost is rising every second. Now, as our costs have increased, yours will naturally have to rise as well. That's reasonable, isn't it?"
...
With a snap, Owen broke a man's neck and dragged the body into a room to hide. It was a necessary action as their sudden encounter could have led to an alarm being raised. Killing, especially scum, didn't weigh on him anymore.
He was in a hallway with rooms on both sides, having checked over a dozen rooms, all empty, hoping not to find this one the same. Upon entering another room, his heart lifted at the sight of a person.
On the bed, a girl was tied up, motionless.
Owen hurriedly turned her face towards him; it wasn't Amanda. The girl's face was contorted, foam at her mouth, her breath shallow, her pulse weak. She was alive but beyond saving.
Noticing the needle marks on her wrist, Owen felt a sinking feeling, remembering Amanda's fate was similar. He feared Amanda might be next.
After searching more rooms, finding some occupied and others not, none were the three girls he was looking for. His heart sank further, wondering what went wrong, despite their preemptive actions. The only silver lining was not finding more victims; no news was good news.
Ironically, when he opened another room, Owen finally saw a familiar face.
It was Cynthia, similarly bound, with black needle marks on her arms. He checked her pulse; she was unconscious but alive.
He tried to wake her by calling her name and patting her face. When that failed, he splashed water on her face from a nearby cup, and slowly, she opened her eyes.
"Cynthia, Cynthia? Wake up, it's me, Amanda's brother... Cynthia? Where are Amanda and Kem? "
Though Cynthia opened her eyes, they were empty, her system still rebooting. Owen pinched her under her arm, and the pain seemed to bring her back to life.
"Cynthia, where are Amanda and Kem? Where are they being held?"
"Ah... save... save me..." Cynthia's voice was hoarse, likely from previous crying. She recognized Owen, weak but grasping at this chance for survival.
Owen knew he needed to calm her, or she wouldn't be able to answer any questions.
"Okay, okay, I'll get you out of here, Cynthia. Just tell me, where are Amanda and Kem? Where are they being held?"
"I... I don't know... they separated us... I've been locked in this room since they captured me..."
Cynthia's fragmented sentences weighed heavily on Owen.
"Alright, try to stay alert. I'll look for Amanda and the others. Hide here and don't go out. I'll come back for you."
As Owen untied Cynthia, advising her, she looked at him tearfully, unwilling to let go of her newfound hope, but unable to keep him from leaving.
...
The men in the room were initially convinced by Brian's satellite theory, but quickly realized he was bluffing. Annoyed, they understood his absurd justification for raising prices – citing satellites of all things.
Satellites, a costly strategic resource, would hardly be wasted on small-time thugs like them.
Silence fell as they processed his audacity. Brian, undeterred, asked, "Which one of you is Mark?"
"Why do you ask?" Brian noticed their openly defensive expressions.
"I heard Mark is the boss here."
"We are all Mark."
"No, no, I mean the Mark from Zopaga."
"We are all from Zopaga."
The atmosphere turned awkward.
Brian laughed, "Since you like playing games, how about a 10% increase in fees?"
Anger flashed across their faces, and the sleazy man who had led him in stepped forward, "Don't think you can extort us; we know the law."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha"
Brian's smirk seemed to mock them, their faces souring further. They realized the irony in defending their legality, given their criminal activities. Brian, unfazed, continued his mockery, "You call this extortion? Correct, this is extortion. Talking law with me? What charges should I arrest you under? Extortion? Kidnapping? Drug trafficking? Assault? Illegal possession of weapons?"
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