The brightness of the fluorescent lights in Panthera’s technology lair was a stark contrast to the atmosphere that filled the room.

Over fifty men, intelligence forces of 7Katz, had gathered before Panthera and Jabatus. Monitors lined the walls, displaying maps, security footage, and a grainy photo of Izar’s face: his wide eyes and sharp jaw. Panthera stood at the center of the room, in front of the screen, his lean frame clad in a black turtleneck as always, and his wire-rimmed glasses reflecting the screens’ light.

Jabatus, the cartel’s rule-maker and enforcer, a well-built man with the stiffest of jaws, paced beside him, his restless energy barely contained, and literally mirroring that of the cheetah he was named after, a pistol dangling casually in his hand.

In the corner lay three intelligence agents, all gunned down by him. Further checks by Panthera had revealed serious negligence on the part of those men in letting the Viper Squad police agents follow and capture the boys, and once they were arraigned before the two leaders, Jabatus – a rigid upholder of the 7Katz Rulebook – reminded them of the rules they had breached before punishing them with bullets behind the head.

The men before them, a mix of hardened enforcers and newer recruits, stood rigid and at attention, the air thick with expectation as they awaited the orders for this critical mission.

Panthera, silent since the entry of the men, stared hard at them. His voice was calm and precise as it cut through the silence.

“Listen up, men! This mission is a critical one. Top priority mission for us. Now the Viper Squad carried out a surprise attack on some of our boys and stole our stash.” He gestured at the lifeless bodies in the corner. “The fools who allowed this to happen have been dealt with, as you can see. Now two of the boys have been retrieved and punished, but there’s a third one on the run. And it’s this piece of shit you see on the screen.”

The room remained silent as he went on.

“His name is Izar, and he’s out there, running like a fucking rat. He’s the last loose end from the phenomenal fuck-up. And all of you are going to spread out across the nation – every alley, every dive bar, every safehouse… every fucking inch of this country, to find him. And when you do, note his location, who he’s hiding with, and any details on those harboring him. Names, affiliations, weaknesses. We want everything. Every fucking detail. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the men responded.

Panthera glanced at Jabatus, who stopped pacing. He nodded and turned to the men, his eyes glinting with impatience. “When you find him, you don’t engage. Remain inconspicuous at all times. Take the due notes and report back. We’ll handle the rest. Understood?”

The men responded affirmatively once more, their faces grave and in compliance.

One recruit, however – a lanky kid with a nervous twitch – raised a hand.

Jabatus noted his raised hand. “Yes, Wilson?”

Wilson’s voice was shaky as he asked, “Uh, what if… what if we don’t find him? Like, what if we search everywhere and he’s nowhere to be found?”

The room went deathly silent.

Panthera’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses, his expression one of disbelief. Jabatus froze, his head tilting slightly, like a predator sizing up prey. The two looked at each other incredulously, then shook their heads, with Panthera mouthing, “This motherfucker…”

Wilson’s face paled as he realized his mistake. The disapproving looks from his fellow men, with some gesticulating furiously at him, had him realizing what a bad idea it was to ask that question. His hand dropped to his side, trembling.

“Uh… n-n-never mind,” he mumbled. “I-I… I’m sorry. Ready for action, sirs.”

Jabatus simply stared at him. After what felt like an hour to everyone in the room – although it was less than a minute –  the leader’s voice was low and almost playful.

“Come here, Wilson.”

Wilson hesitated, his eyes darting to the others, who avoided his gaze. “I… I didn’t mean–”

“Now!” Jabatus barked, his voice cracking like a whip.

Wilson flinched, stumbling forward. He stopped a foot from Jabatus, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

Jabatus twirled the pistol in his hand, a hideously sharp and cold grin spreading across his face. “You know Offence No. 32 in the 7Katz RuleBook, don’t you? ‘Don’t ask stupid questions.’”

Wilson nodded nervously. He really should have remembered that rule, and the fact that this rule-abiding guy had a weapon in hand.

Jabatus immediately pressed the gun beneath Wilson’s chin, his eyes narrowed. “What if you don’t find him, you ask? Then it means you didn’t do your job well. Because you do your job well, you will find him. And if you’re asking stupid questions like this, then it means you’ve already planned to fail. And if you’re planning to fail, then guess what? You’re actually of no use to 7Katz.”

Wilson’s mouth opened, a whimper escaping.

“Please, please, I–”

POW!

Jabatus pulled the trigger before he could complete his plea for mercy.

The young man crumpled to the floor, a clean hole in his skull, blood pooling beneath him. The other men stiffened, their faces pale but unsurprised. They knew 7Katz, and Jabatus in particular, had a no-tolerance policy for weakness and stupidity. The boy should have known better than to open his mouth and express doubts.

Jabatus lowered the gun, his grin fading to a scowl. “Anyone else got a question? A sensible one?”

Silence hung heavy, the men’s eyes fixed on the floor, the body, anywhere but Jabatus.

Panthera adjusted his glasses, his voice cutting through the tension. “I thought so. You have your orders. Find Izar. Every corner of this city—turn it upside down. Report back with everything you get. Move. Now!”

The men dispersed quickly, their footsteps echoing as they filed out of the lair, leaving the recruit’s body behind.

Panthera glanced at Jabatus, who holstered his pistol with a shrug. “I’ll get one of the waste disposal guys to discard them,” Jabatus muttered, nodding in the direction of the three bodies in the corner and Wilson’s body.

Panthera nodded, his eyes already back on the monitors. “Dunno what gave this fool the audacity to imply we could fail this mission. But yeah, whatever, fuck him. He’s dead. Let’s hope the others find him quickly.”

***

It was evening, and in the Adomako’s cozy living room, Izar sat across from Hector and Lavender on a worn but comfortable couch. The remnants of a simple dinner—plates of rice and stew with a couple of plantains—sat on the table between them, the air still full of the savory aroma of Lavender’s culinary skills. It was just past 7:00 p.m., and the couple had just finished explaining the shelter outreach program, their voices gentle but earnest, offering to connect Izar with resources to help him find his footing.

Izar leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly with a small smile on his face to hide his budding irritation. Sure, he was very grateful to this couple for helping him out, that was not in doubt. But he was already weary of having to deal with their religious nonsense. From having to listen to all those annoying gospel songs and those ‘sermons’, he was already over it. He wanted to escape from the deadly 7Katz, not become a Christian. That was the last thing on his mind.

So yeah, the idea of getting tangled up with any religious group in any form was a no-no. Too many rules, too much scrutiny, and way too close to people who might ask questions he couldn’t answer.

But of course, he had to play the part for now and not let them know his utter contempt. So outwardly, he kept his face neutral, nodding slowly. “That sounds… good,” he murmured, his voice measured. “That sounds pretty good. But, uh, since you just mentioned it… can I… can I have some time to think it over?”

Lavender’s face lit up. “Of course, Izar, of course. Take all the time you need. We’re just glad you’re showing some openness to it.”

Hector nodded, his large frame relaxed but attentive. “Yeah, no pressure. We just want you to know there’s help out there when you’re ready. As long as we have the opportunity to help you out, we’ll ensure we can.”

Izar nodded. “I’m really grateful for what you’ve done for me. I really am.”

“You’re most welcome, Izar. we’re just vessels being used by the Most High God,” Lavender chirped.

While Izar had a small smile on his face, he inwardly rolled his eyes. Ugh, there they go with that God talk again!

As they rose from their seats, Lavender glanced toward the kitchen, her tone light. “Oh, Hector, my darling, the sink’s piled high with plates. Would you mind helping me tackle them?”

Inwardly, Izar scoffed. Washing dishes? That’s a woman’s job. How the fuck does she get the auda-

“Say no more, Lavie. I was heading there anyway.”

Hector, with a huge grin on his face, gave her a playful nudge as they moved toward the kitchen, their easy camaraderie filling the room.

Izar stayed seated, his mind reeling as he watched them head toward the kitchen. In the rough world he’d grown up in, any role involving housework was only a woman’s job; men never “lowered” themselves to such tasks. Even picking clothes off the floor wasn’t something a man was supposed to do.

So he was stunned. Why in the world would Hector – a big guy, strong, in charge – reduce himself like that?

As the sounds of clinking dishes and their soft laughter emanated from the kitchen, he shook his head in disappointment.

This is so fucking embarrassing…

These 7Katz guys really are a ruthless bunch. And Izar? Looks like he has a misogynistic bone in him…