[The night air was heavy with salt and smoke as the convoy rolled to a silent halt. The first van's headlights dimmed, and the hum of its engine faded out, replaced by the faint murmur of the waves slapping against the pier. Reina Kanzaki stepped out first, her coat fluttering lightly in the cold wind. Ryou Ishijima, Shin Karuihisa, and Shirou Fukushima followed close behind, their boots crunching softly against the cracked asphalt.]
Ryou: ...Wait a second. he squints ahead That's an old pub, right? You're telling me this place still runs?
[The neon sign flickered weakly — 'CHRISBOURGH'S BREW & GRILL' — though half the letters were dead, leaving only a ghostly glow that buzzed into the night.]
Shin: Looks more like it's about to collapse than serve drinks.
[She adjusted her tactical gloves, eyeing the worn wooden doors that seemed one good kick away from splintering.]
Ryou:chuckles softly Kinda nostalgic though… reminds me of those shady joints you'd see in old crime flicks.
Reina: Quietly, her tone sharp but calm. That's not nostalgia, Ishijima. That's exactly what this is.
Ryou: Eh—? dumbfounded
[She unfolded a small holomap on her wrist display, tracing their current coordinates with her finger.]
Reina: Our informant said this place is just a front. There's a hidden passage beneath the storage room—likely leading to a secondary facility underground.
Shirou: peers at the pub, cautious but alert So they're disguising a slavery hub... under a public business. That's bold.
Reina: Bold, but typical. SoveCle's allies don't rely on subtlety anymore—they rely on money.
[She signals the nearby van, where several officers inside check their weapons and comms.]
Reina: Squad Two, take the east exit. Block any possible escape routes. Squad Three, stand by for my signal. We're going in quiet until confirmed hostiles.
Shin: Understood. she loads her sidearm and gives Shirou a small nod You're with me on infiltration, Fukushima. We'll breach from the back alley.
Shirou: Got it. he double-checks his gear, pulling his hood over
[Ryou gives the rundown of external security while Reina stays near the van, reviewing live drone footage overhead. The flickering light from the pub sign painted their faces with a pulsing glow — half alive, half dead — just like the secret beneath their feet.]
Ryou: Still can't believe an old bar like this is pulling strings for SoveCle.
Reina:without looking up That's how they've lasted this long. They hide in plain sight.
her gaze hardens Let's put an end to their little game.
[The distant static on the monitor prickled at the edge of his hearing — a pattern he'd come to hate. Movement in the alley, shadows where there shouldn't be shadows.
He didn't flinch. Years of running black-market logistics had taught him to read the little noises before the big ones. Still, the guard's voice at his shoulder made him move.]
Guard 1: breathless, urgent whisper Sir — units at the front. Multiple vans. They're moving quiet but fast. We have eyes on tactical gear.
Roy:cool, almost bored How many?
Guard 1:hissing Two vans stopped outside. Men in plates. Could be police, could be—
[Roy cut him off with a single, sharp gesture. His cane tapped the floor twice, a soft staccato. The old man's practiced calm was a mask — but under it, calculation. It was time to go dark.]
Roy: Notify the drivers. Pull the trucks back into the inner garage. Seal the loading doors. Get the captives cleaned and hidden. No one moves until we have eyes on their formation.
Guard 2: nervous Sir, we can lock them in the subcells—
Roy: flat Do it. And take the ledger. Burn the last two transfer manifests if you must. We can't afford paper trails tonight.
[His legs felt heavier than they should. Decades had added a small tremor to his hands; the cane was no longer affectation but necessity. Still, his mind worked like a ledger: risk in left column, mitigation on the right. He moved faster than his body looked like it should, the rhythm of command carrying him up the service stair.]
[The metal hatch clicked shut with a finality that sounded louder in Roy's ears than it really was. He smoothed his coat, set the leather satchel with the ledger under his arm, and let the cold air of the service corridor wash over him one last time.]
Roy: muttering to himself as he climbed the narrow steps Time to put on the mask.
[He pushed up through the maintenance hatch into the back room that led to the pub's kitchen. The bright, warm light of the dining area hit his face — a staged sun that warmed the room and hid shadows. He paused a heartbeat in the doorway, adjusted his posture, and adopted the practiced, genial smile of a proprietor who'd seen too many faces to be surprised by any of them.]
[Two of his men filed up behind him, already in plain civilian clothes: one carrying an empty pint glass, the other with his jacket slung over his shoulder like he'd just come in from the rain. A third lingered near the kitchen entrance, swapping a hardened tactical vest for a battered tweed coat.]
Guard 1:low, whispering as they stepped into the dining room Everyone knows their cue. You're the owner, Kyoin. I'll sit by the bar and play tipsy. The others will be in booths—keep them loud and keep them drunk. No one looks twice at a drunk man.
[Roy's lip twitched into something like amusement. He straightened his tie, let the old habit of performance settle over him like a cloak.]
Roy: in a softer, practiced tone as he pushed through the swinging kitchen door Evening, folks. Table for—ah, we've got room, come in, come in. The stew's still hot.
[He moved with the ease of a man who'd played this role for years, wiping an imaginary glass with a napkin as he passed the counter. Regulars glanced up, nodded in greeting; the jukebox crooned an old tune. The patrons were small-town—grizzled fishermen, a tired salaryman, and a pair of late-night students. Exactly the kind of background noise Roy wanted.]
[From his vantage behind the bar, Roy watched his men slide into place. One settled at a corner booth, thumbing a newspaper and skimming the sports page; another ordered a round and laughed loudly with a nearby patron. Their behavior was sloppy enough to pass as genuine drunkenness, but Roy's trained gaze picked out the micro-gestures—the way a hand rested too close to a concealed holster, the quick, imperceptible signals exchanged under the table.]
Patron: gruff, slurring pleasantly Oh, you the new owner? Heard this place was under new management.
Roy:smiles, voice buttery calm Been here a while, friend. Just trying to keep the lights on and the stew warm. You want another pint?
[As he spoke, his phone—hidden in the inner pocket—buzzed once. He glanced down: a single encrypted ping from an unknown route. He ignored it, eyes sweeping the room. Outside, through the rain-speckled window, shadowy figures lingered at the curb—too organized to be ordinary night-walkers.]
[Roy let out a quiet, controlled breath. The hunters would come and find a pub full of ordinary noise. He raised a glass in a casual salute to the nearest table, and the men behind him played their parts: coughing, slamming a palm on the table, telling a loud joke.]
Guard 2: under his breath but audible They're at the door. Two vans. Looks like more than local trouble.
[Roy's smile didn't break. He set the glass down and tilted his head, as if listening to a joke he'd rehearsed before. To anyone watching, he was the very image of hospitality: an older man running a tired pub, taking care of his customers.]
[But the ledger in his satchel hummed at his side like a dark heart. He sipped the stew, chewed deliberately, and let the chatter wash over him — a chorus to hide the true score beneath.]
Roy: softly, to himself Let them find a tavern and not a trap. Let them believe in the noise. We move when the night forgets to watch.
[Outside, the van doors opened. Boots hit the wooden steps. The pub's front door swung, letting in a breeze of cold air—and two figures in dark plates paused on the threshold, eyes sweeping the room.]
[Roy's smile deepened. The show had begun.]
[The pub's door creaked as it opened, letting a thin blade of cold air cut across the warm, stale light inside. The room smelled of old ale, frying onions, and the faint iron tang of the harbor. Conversations dipped for a fraction of a second as four silhouettes crossed the threshold — disciplined, silent, and unmistakably out of place.]
Reina:soft, almost a whisper as she scanned the room We go in slow. Eyes open. No sudden moves.
Ryou:murmuring, attempting to sound casual as he steps past a table This place really is the perfect disguise. Who'd suspect a dive would hide a cellar like that?
Shin:shoulder low, scanning flanks Keep it tight. We don't tip our hand. Watch patrons' hands and exits.
Shirou:quiet, staying glued to the shadows as he moves Copy. Stay close.
[They flowed through the bar like trained fish through a current — polite nods, soft footsteps; the sort of practiced, almost invisible intrusion that didn't break the rhythm of the room. Reina's gaze flicked to the jukebox, to the booths, to the curtained doorway that led toward the kitchen. Ryou kept his stance loose but ready, Shin's eyes kept flicking to the corners, and Shirou shadowed their movements, ready to react.]
[At the bar, Roy polished a glass with exaggerated care, his smile measured and warm, eyes flicking once to follow the newcomers. Behind him, Roy's men continued their noisy, drunken charade — but each kept a practiced tension under the façade.]
Roy: quietly, into the void of his smile as the officers passed Evening. Welcome to Chrisbourgh's. What can I get for you?
Reina:neutral, calm We're not here to eat. We have a warrant to inspect the premises. Please remain where you are.
[A ripple ran through the pub. The fake laughter fluttered and then stilled; Roy's hands were steady as he set the glass down.]
Ryou: low, to Reina as they move toward the back If this is a front, the entrance to the cellar should be near the storage. Watch the kitchen door.
Shin:nodding I've got your six, Ryou.
[Reina kept her eyes on the patrons, then on Roy. Her voice never rose, but there was an iron edge beneath it.]
Reina: This will be clean. One sweep, one secure. No unnecessary force unless we get hostile.
Shirou:softly, more to himself than anyone else Let's just get the captives out.
[From the van parked across the street, muffled voices came over the comm in low bloom — backup units securing perimeter points, Sera's voice steady as she monitored feed and awaited Reina's signal. The night outside felt like an audience holding its breath.]
[Inside the pub, Roy's smile never broke. His eyes, however, flicked to a narrow service door at the back — and then downward, toward the floor panels that hid the hatch. He had all the time in the world to play host.]
Roy:pleasantly I'll cooperate. Please be gentle with my patrons.
[Reina's gaze hardened fractionally. She didn't ask twice.]
Reina:calmly Start with the storage. Ryou, Shin — with me. Shirou, follow and cover exits. We move on my mark.
[They positioned themselves — a quartet of calm tension amid the false warmth, each heartbeat a metronome counting down the moment the theater dropped and the real stage opened.]
Reina:whispers as she slides the storage door open, voice low and precise Light only. Keep it quiet — minimal movement.
Ryou:peering into the dim storeroom, hand on his holster but not reaching for it Looks like a food supply closet. Crates of flour, canned goods… and these wooden pallets stacked against the far wall. Classic hidey-hole cover.
Shin:knees bent, eyes sharp, checking the ceiling and the floor seams Check for traps. Roy's not sloppy — if he's hiding something, he'll hide it well.
Shirou: moving in behind them, flashlight low so the beam only kisses the floor I'll sweep the exits. If anything moves toward the door, I call it.
[They fan out with practiced silence. Ryou finds a loose plank at the base of a stack and gives it a soft tug. It squeaks a whisper and a thin gap yawns open beneath the pallets.]
Ryou:part-smile, barely audible Bingo. Cap, I think I found it. You'd think after a century of crime drama, we could stop being surprised.
Reina:kneels, runs gloved fingers along the seam, then signals with two fingers to Ryou Pry it wide. Shin, cover the kitchen entrance. Shirou, watch the floor and the booths — don't let anyone bolt.
[Ryou slides a compact pry-bar from his tool kit and works the plank free with controlled force. The plank gives with a faint creak and reveals a dark hatch — heavy metal, old but oiled for movement. A scent lifts up from below: damp concrete and stale air.]
Sera:from the van on comm, voice steady, low Van feed's clean. Two backup units at points B and C report no extra exits open. Civilians accounted for; pub patrons flagged. Reina, you're clear to proceed when you want.
Reina: soft nod, voice only for the three in the room We go down two at a time. Ryou — you first with Shin. I'll take Shirou after. Keep your lights to a minimum. Move slow and talk less.
[Ryou gives a curt nod and begins easing the hatch. Shin's hand is on the edge, fingers ready to sling a flash if they need to blind the space quickly. The metal grates scrape and lift, releasing a cold breath of cellar air that smells of iron and oil.]
Ryou: descends first, careful footfalls Keep formation tight. Watch for tripwires and sensors. Old smugglers love their gimmicks.
Shin: next, voice a rasp I've got right flank. Ryou, left. Sweep low.
[Their boots hit the concrete below and the light falls into shadow. Reina follows, hands steady on the ladder, Shirou a quiet shadow at her heels. The cellar is wider than expected — a maze of corridors between reinforced doors and rusted shelving, cables coiling like sleeping serpents along the walls.]
Shirou:breath barely audible but steady; his heartbeat thudding People…?
Reina: whispers as she peeks down the next corridor and sees the row of iron-barred cells Hostages. Multiple. Guarded. Quiet — they may be drugged, but they're not entirely unaware.
[They round a corner and the beam of Shin's light catches a pair of shackled forms huddled in a cell, their eyes open and glazed. Ryou's jaw tightens; Reina's face hardens but her voice remains whisper — rough with command.]
Reina:to Sera on comm Sera — we've found them. Two rows of cells. At least a dozen people. We need medical support and extraction teams on standby. Don't engage loud unless it's required.
Sera: over the earpiece, voice clipped with efficiency Understood. Crews are staging at points A and C. I'm calling for medics now. Van 3 holds until you clear the first corridor.
[A muffled sound — a bootstep — echoes from two cells down. A guard has been shifted to a patrol route; the sound is soft, but sound travels in concrete corridors. Shin freezes, listening.]
Shin:breath held Someone's coming. Left flank, guard approaching.
Ryou: moves with lethal calm Hold. We wait for the guard to pass his route. Shirou, be ready to cut the lock on the second cell once I signal. One swift move; we take them down clean.
[The guard's shadow slides past their doorway — just the edge of a boot, the dull thump of a rifle butt. He hums an old tune, unaware. Once he's gone, Ryou signals and Shirou slides forward, a lock-cutter quick and precise. The shackles pop with small mechanical sighs.]
[One of the captives blinks, confused; a young woman's voice stumbles out, hoarse:]
???: They… came back?
[She tries to stand and stumbles; Shin catches her, gentle but efficient, guiding her to a safe corner.]
Shin:soft You're safe now. Stay low and quiet. Help is here.
[Reina moves deeper, fingers moving over her earpiece as she receives live heat-maps from Sera's van — the backups sweeping perimeter, medics en route. She notices a slight irregularity: a shadow on camera two, near the loading dock, that hasn't been there before.]
Reina:quiet concern Ryou — check the loading side. Someone might be moving the trucks.
Ryou: nods once, voice clipped On it. Shirou — sweep this cell block. I'll check the dock and circle back.
[Shirou nods and stays, helping free the others and marking which cells contained live captives by pulling a small colored clip and hanging it on the cell bars — an old, silent code to the medics who will follow.]
[Down in the pub's barroom above, Roy watches the officers like a hawk while maintaining his grin. He notices the pause in the action as his men stiffen; his fingers twitch under the bar. He isn't panicking; his plan allows for contingency — but he doesn't like surprises. He ducks behind the counter and casually flips a glass upside down, eyes scanning for a familiar signal. A brief exchange of looks among his men, and one of them starts a loud argument with a patron, creating a distraction in the front room.]
Roy: under his breath but audible Keep them occupied. Don't let them see the dock.
[Back in the cellar, a heavier footstep rings out differently — not a patrol hum but an agitated, quicker pace. Ryou's comm taps once. He answers with a whisper.]
Ryou:low Command, this is Ryou — I've got movement at the north loading dock. Two figures moving crates.
Sera:from van, calm but terse Copy. Van 1 and units at point B, intercept. Don't cut them off unless you have visual. They might be decoys.
Reina: decision made, voice firm Ryou, intercept and detain if possible. Shin, keep the hostages safe. Shirou, stay with me and sweep — we can't risk the captives getting shifted.
[Ryou breathes in, then slips into the upper duct access — a narrow crawl back toward the dock. He moves like a shadow, taking routes only an officer hardened to theft and smuggling would know. His silhouette melts into the darker seams near the garage as he cuts the angle to approach the loading bay unseen.]
Shin: kneeling beside a trembling captive and speaking softly We'll get you out, alright? I'm going to find you blankets. Can you stand for a moment?
Captive: voice very small, a broken whisper Thank you. Please—my sister—she's in the next cell.
[Shin's jaw tightens. She looks up at Reina, who gives the tiniest nod. Shin moves, steady and fast.]
[Meanwhile, Ryou reaches the northern dock and peeks behind a stack of wrapped pallets. Two men — not guards, but couriers — are unwrapping plastic and prying open a sealed crate, faces masked with balaclavas. They're not expecting a professional; they're hurried and sloppy.]
Ryou: steps out low and fast, voice like thunder Police! Stay where you are!
[One man snaps, tries to run; Ryou is faster. He blocks the exit, grapples, and a quick, sharp takedown ends the scramble. The second man freezes, hands up. Ryou's radio is a calm blade.]
Ryou: to command One detained. Second neutralized. The crate contains— a pause as he pries open the lid —medical tubing and crates marked "human transport." It's them. They were moving captives.
Sera: over the comm, voice steely Good work. Hold detainees. Don't let anyone else near the trucks. We'll sweep and extract — Cap, status?
Reina:quiet strength Hostages secured in sector one. Send medics to the inner corridor and the extraction team to the east hatch. Ryou, secure the vehicle manifests. We need evidence chain intact.
Shirou: kneeling to help free a man whose eyes flutter You're safe. We'll get you help. Name?
???: hoarse, barely audible Koji… Koji Tanaka. Please—my wife—she's— voice cracks
[Shirou's jaw tightens. He passes the man a damp cloth and ties a temporary bandage with practiced hands.]
[In the pub upstairs, Roy's voice carries just enough to be heard near the bar. He feigns outrage, calling for calm and offering the officers free drinks as "penance" for the disturbance — a slippery, poisonous courtesy. He watches the door, then glances at the far window where a delivery truck idles, its driver fidgeting nervously.]
Roy:to his men, sotto Keep up the theatre. Let the fools think they've got the musicians. Our real cargo moves when they're busy applauding.
[Back in the cellar, Shin finishes a careful sweep and finds another locked door — more heavy metal, stamped with rusted serials. She signals Reina with a gloved hand.]
Shin: soft More cells. They've got a secure wing.
Reina:voice soft but iron We document and extract. Shirou, help me with these locks. Ryou, once you secure that crate manifest, circle back and cover the north exit.
[Shirou slides under the bar of a cell and works the bolt, hands steady despite the rush of adrenaline. The captive inside — a young woman no older than nineteen — collapses into his arms, sobbing quietly. Shin hands over a small thermal blanket and bows her head in a silent promise.]
Shirou: quietly We've got you. Just breathe.
[The van's engine hums a faint confirmation — medics have arrived at the pre-arranged coordinate and are routing toward the inner corridor. Sera's voice on the earpiece is concise and professional, but there's an edge of pressure. She's monitoring Roy's pub like a hawk and the van perimeter like a caged animal waiting to spring.]
Sera: over comm There are extra signals on the east side — could be interference or another crew. Keep an eye. Extraction team is two minutes out.
Reina: a short exhale of resolve Two minutes is enough. Keep those cells calm and covered. Ryou — do not let any vehicles leave the dock.
[Ryou's voice comes thinly over the crackle.]
Ryou: Copy. I'm sealing the lot.
[And as the team works — cutting shackles, marking cells, bagging evidence, calming the terrified — the night outside the pub remains a breath away from bursting. Roy, watchful and patient, continues to play host upstairs, counting his minutes and his options. The officers below move with the single-minded efficiency of people who have only one job in that moment: undo what horrors the cellar hid and carry the living back to sunlight.]
[Roy's forced grin finally faltered. The air from below carried too much movement — faint metallic clatters, muffled voices, a creak of boots on steel ladders.
They'd found it.]
Roy: Curses—!
[His hand trembled once before he clenched it into a fist. He turned toward the disguised "customers," his tone barely above a whisper, but every man in the room snapped to attention as if struck by a command baton.]
Roy: low, venom-laced They've opened the hatch. Basement's compromised. All of you—downstairs. Now. You stall them till I say otherwise.
[The fake patrons rose one by one, tossing their drinks aside. Chairs scraped against the floor, mugs shattered — the illusion of normalcy breaking all at once. Roy slipped behind the counter and pulled a lever hidden beneath the shelf.]
[A sharp mechanical click echoed through the bar as concealed compartments in the floor opened, revealing hidden rifles and batons.]
Roy: hissing Go, go! Cover the eastern corridor and hold position at the stairwell. No one gets out alive unless I say so.
[The first wave of thugs stormed toward the back hallway leading to the cellar stairs, their boots hammering the wooden floor.]
[Down below, Reina froze mid-step at the sound — the sudden thunder of feet descending.]
Reina:whisper-sharp, immediately switching channels Sera, multiple hostiles incoming from the pub. They found the entry. Lock down the vans, prepare counter-engage teams.
Sera:voice tense but steady Copy that. Reinforcement teams are moving. I'll keep your line clear. You've got one minute, tops.
Shirou:gritting his teeth, checking his weapon's chamber Guess stealth's over.
Ryou:from the dock, a grim chuckle over comms About damn time. I was starting to think this one would end quiet.
Reina: commanding Negative. Hold formation. Shin, seal the rear passage with anything heavy. Shirou, light cover on the main stairwell — don't kill unless necessary. We're rescuers first.
Shin:already moving crates Understood.
[Above, Roy adjusted his vest, straightened his tie, and exhaled. For all his age, his eyes gleamed with the same fire of the days when he ran trades under the Apostles' blessing.]
Roy: muttering to himself You think you can take my business, Captain Kanzaki? Let's see how long your little crusade lasts underground.
[He picked up a pistol from under the counter and strode toward the back door, his face calm now, almost serene — the serenity of a man who has nothing left to lose.]