CHAPTER 294: CHAPTER - 294

Chapter - 294

Rick stood, the bloody 9-iron dangling from his hand, and stared at the woman who was currently aiming a 9mm pistol at his chest. The warehouse was a charnel house, stinking of blood, ozone, and rebar. Sparrow One was a whimpering, mangled heap on the catwalk. Sparrow Two was a human pincushion in the gravel outside. And Sharon, a cop, was holding him at gunpoint over a moral line that had been vaporized the second they’d stepped into the shipyard.

"Rick!" she yelled, her voice trembling but full of righteous fire. "You walk out that door without me, and I’ll be the one to shoot you in the back. You’re not the only one who can play dirty. You need me. You just don’t know it yet. You’re an arrogant, sociopathic, ’tactical’ kissing bastard, but you’re my partner. And I’m not letting you go."

He stared at her for a long, silent moment. She was a mess. Covered in blood—his, her own, Sparrow Two’s—her hair singed, her eyes wide with a cocktail of terror and adrenaline. She was a liability. She was a cop. She was also completely, terrifyingly, correct. He couldn’t go after Raven and watch his own back.

He let out a long, weary sigh, a cloud of dust and smoke. "Fine," he conceded, dropping the 9-iron with a clatter. "You’re my... ’partner’." He said the word like it tasted bad. "But we’re clear: I’m in charge. You’re backup. We do it my way."

"We do it the way that works," she shot back, finally re-holstering her weapon, her hand shaking. "Now what do we do with him?" She gestured to the groaning Sparrow One.

Rick’s solution was, as always, brutally efficient. He found a roll of duct tape in a toolbox, ripped off a long strip, and slapped it over the man’s sobbing, bloody mouth. He then used a heavy-duty zip tie from the same box to bind his one good hand to his shattered ankle. "He’ll be fine," Rick said, patting the man’s head. "Cops are on the way... eventually."

"You’re an animal," Sharon muttered.

"I’m a pragmatist," Rick corrected. "Let’s go. We’re covered in blood and we’re on a clock."

They slipped out of the warehouse, leaving the mangled man and the dead one behind, a problem for the Portstown PD to sort out. As they climbed back onto the Harley, the cool night air feeling impossibly fresh, the System finally decided to unload on Rick. His vision lit up like a Christmas tree, a flurry of blue screens appearing one after the other.

[Ding!]

[Quest: Show No Mercy - COMPLETE!]

[Reward: 15,000 XP, $25,000, New Ability: ’Aura of Dread’ (Acquired)]

[Ding!]

[Quest: Public Humiliation - COMPLETE!]

[Reward: 20,000 XP, $50,000, Skill Upgrade: ’Intimidation’ is now ’Terrifying Presence’ (Rank 1)!]

[Ding!]

[Quest: The Awkward Alliance - COMPLETE!]

[Reward: 2-Hour ’Live Location’ Feed (Expired)]

[Bonus Reward (for... creativity): 5,000 XP]

[Ding!]

[Quest: The Final Word - COMPLETE!]

[Reward: 50,000 XP, $100,000, New Skill: ’Voice of Command’ (Rank 1)!]

[Ding!]

[Quest: Race Against Time - TARGET ACQUIRED!]

[You have secured the asset. The timer is paused. Awaiting new objective.]

[Total Rewards Applied: 90,000 XP. $175,000. New Skills Unlocked!]

Rick’s brain was so overloaded with the sudden influx of data, pop-ups, and the sheer, giddy rush of the rewards that he momentarily forgot to drive. The Harley wobbled, almost tipping over.

"What’s wrong with you?" Sharon yelled, grabbing his jacket. "You’re twitching. Are you having a seizure?"

"Just... processing," Rick muttered, gunning the engine. "I’m rich. Again. Let’s find a motel. We need to ditch these clothes and this bike. And you... you desperately need a shower. You smell like a slaughterhouse."

"I smell like your handiwork, you bastard! Just drive!"

An hour later, they were at the "Morningstar Motel," a name that promised celestial light but delivered flickering neon, peeling paint, and the faint, unmistakable smell of regret. Rick paid cash for a room with two "queen" beds that sagged in the middle, and a bathroom that looked like a science experiment.

The awkwardness was a physical force. They were two people, covered in the blood of men they had just brutally killed, standing in a tiny, disgusting room, with a laptop that could start a war.

Sharon, grim-faced, grabbed her duffel bag. "I’m showering first. You... stay on your side of the room. And don’t look."

Rick, who was examining the laptop, didn’t even look up. "My quest was to kiss you, not see you naked. The System’s not that generous. Besides, after that rebar incident, I’m a little terrified of what you’d do to me if I tried."

He heard her stop. "The... the ’quest’?"

"The kiss. It was a System quest. It’s how I got the location feed. Don’t worry, your virtue is intact."

Sharon stood in the bathroom doorway, her face a perfect, unreadable mask. "You... kissed me... to complete a video game objective in your head?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Now, are you going to shower, or are you going to stand there and let the blood coagulate on your face? We’re on a schedule."

With a sound that was half-sigh, half-growl, she slammed the bathroom door. Rick heard the lock click. He smirked and turned his attention to the laptop. It was a high-end, ultra-secure machine. He couldn’t get into it, not without time he didn’t have. He just had to wait for the next move.

It came an hour later. Sharon was out of the shower, dressed in clean jeans and a t-shirt, looking less like a warrior and more like a very, very tired cop. Rick was wiping down the 9-iron with a motel towel. His phone—the one he’d taken from Sparrow One—rang.

The caller ID was "RAVEN."

He put it on speaker. "You’re late," he said.

The same cold, steel, female voice replied, without a hint of surprise. "You’re efficient, Mr. Smith. More so than my recent employees. I assume they won’t be returning for their severance pay."

"They’re taking a permanent vacation," Rick said. "You’ve got a problem, Raven. I have your laptop. And I have a very pissed-off cop with me who just found her inner serial killer. So the price just went up."

There was a long, calculating silence. Then, Raven said, "I’m impressed. Truly. You’re wasted on this... side-quest. You’re a chaos agent, just like me. My previous offer was a trade. I’m now offering you a job."

Sharon’s head snapped up, her eyes wide.

"A job?" Rick scoffed. "Doing what? Finding more morons to send to their deaths? Your last two guys couldn’t fight their way out of a wet paper bag. What’s the 401k look like working for you? Do you offer dental? Because I think your boy Sparrow is going to need it."

"He’s a fool, as you’ve so clearly demonstrated," Raven said, her calm unshakable. "I’m talking about a real partnership. You have the laptop. You have my attention. You’re a man of... ’talent’. I could use that. You could have all of this. Power. Wealth. The kind of freedom this world only gives to those who are willing to take it."

"Don’t listen to her, Rick," Sharon whispered, her voice frantic. "She’s a killer. She’s manipulating you."

Rick smirked at the phone. "Wow. Is this the part where you offer me the world and I’m supposed to be impressed? That’s a pretty tired supervillain speech, Raven. What’s next? You tell me we’re not so different, you and I? You gonna show me your secret volcano lair?"

The line went silent again, but this time it was a cold, angry silence. When Raven spoke, her voice had lost its smooth, professional veneer. It was a low, furious hiss.

"You really don’t know when to shut up, do you, Mr. Smith?"

"Oh, I know when," Rick said, his smile fading. "I just wanted to see if I was right. I was waiting for you to drop the act. The whole thing was a great con. The amnesia, the helpless victim, the fake kidnapping, the video..."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Raven snapped.

"The code," Rick said quietly, his voice suddenly conversational. "0-8-2-1-1-9. Sparrow’s 21st birthday. He’s a pathetic moron, but he’s a narcissistic moron. You knew he’d never forget his own birthday. It was a brilliant, ’idiot-proof’ clue. But you had to know him to know that. You had to have been close to him. Closer than just a boss."

"You’re smarter than you look, Mr. Smith," Raven’s voice was ice.

"But you were sloppy," Rick continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. "You faked your own kidnapping to get me, your new ’boyfriend,’ to retrieve your stolen nest egg. You had your own men, Sparrow One and Two, ’abduct’ you to light a fire under my ass. But then I won. I beat them at the house. That wasn’t part of the plan, was it?"

Rick was pacing now, the pieces clicking into place. "You had to improvise. You couldn’t just ask me for the laptop; the ’amnesiac Jemimah’ wouldn’t know about it. So you became ’Raven’ again. You set up this whole grand charade. You sacrificed your own men, sending them to their deaths, just to test me. Just to see if I was good enough to be your new partner. All this... all this blood... just a goddamn job interview."

There was no sound from the phone. Just the faint sound of breathing.

"It was a good con," Rick said, stopping in the middle of the room. "You played me perfectly. Right up until you had your men set a fire. That was just messy. It was... emotional."

He stared at the phone. "You can drop the act. You must be exhausted. You’ve earned it... Nadia."