The Hover-tec Chevelle glided silently over the deserted streets of the Southern District, passing abandoned buildings and rusty structures, until Erich and Greg finally reached the Bulleid Plants in the abandoned zone. The navigation indicated that they were on site at 9:00 PM – an hour before the planned gang meeting mentioned by Korobenko. Erich stopped the vehicle in the shadow of one of the warehouses, a few dozen meters from the main entrance to the plant, to avoid raising suspicion.
"We're ahead of time," Erich said. "We have an hour to look around."
"Maybe we'll manage to find something before they show up."
They both got out of the Hover-tec, which settled on the ground with a quiet hum. Erich put the keys in his pocket, and Greg checked his revolver, making sure he was ready for any eventuality. The Bulleid Plants looked like a relic of Interpolis' industrial past – a huge hall with a cracked concrete and steel facade, covered with graffiti and rusty streaks. High chimneys, long inactive, stood out against the sky, and around them there was silence broken only by the distant hum of the city. It was a place for illegal tenders between gangs.
Erich and Greg entered through ajar side doors, which creaked quietly under pressure. Inside, there was dim light, illuminated only by the pale light coming through dirty, cracked windows high above the floor. The hall was full of old machines, abandoned crates and pallets – an ideal hiding place. They both quickly hid behind a pile of wooden crates in the corner of the hall, from where they had a good view of the central space of the plant.
"Looks like we're the first," Greg replied confidently. "No gangs in sight yet."
"Alright. Keep your eyes open," Erich said. "If Korobenko was telling the truth, we should have a moment before they show up."
Erich knelt behind the crates, listening. His senses, sharpened by years of military service and experience in the gulags, sensed something more than silence and dust. A delicate rustle, almost inaudible, came from the opposite end of the hall. Erich froze, raising his hand to stop Greg.
"Someone's here," Erich said.
"How do you know?" Greg asked in disbelief. "I don't hear anything but us."
Greg squinted, trying to see anything in the dark, but the hall seemed empty. However, the trust in Erich's instinct, which he had built during the chase with the Black Volgas, made him not dismiss his words immediately.
"Are you sure?" Greg asked. "Maybe it's just an echo or... rats?"
"Not this time," Erich said. "It's not rats. Quiet, listen."
They both fell silent, holding their breath. After a moment, Greg heard it too – a delicate, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps, as if someone was moving carefully on the concrete floor, deep in the hall, behind the rows of machines. Erich pulled his Browning from the holster, and Greg gripped his revolver, ready for an unexpected encounter.
The footsteps that Erich had sensed earlier suddenly stopped, leaving only an echo in the empty hall of the Bulleid Plants. Greg squinted, trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes, but saw nothing. They both remained tense behind the crates, listening, until the clock in their heads ticked off an hour. Around 10:00 PM, the silence was broken by the distant roar of engines – members of the Robinson and Rat Gangs showed up as Korobenko had informed.
"Greg, get up," Erich whispered, shaking him to wake him up.
"What... What is it?" Greg asked, surprised.
"They're here."
Greg, who had dozed off for a moment, jumped up immediately. They both moved carefully behind the columns between the boxes, from where they had a better view of the central part of the hall. Erich still sensed the presence of that third person – not the gang, not them, but someone else, lurking in the shadows.
Members of the Robinson and Rat Gangs entered the hall – about ten men, all armed, but calm for now. The Robinson Gang, dressed in leather jackets with bottle-shaped patches, carried a metal suitcase, while the Rat Gang – in more worn-out work clothes – held crates of "Cinnamon". Erich watched as the Robinson leader, a stocky guy with a scar on his forehead, opened the suitcase, revealing a stack of credits – about a million, as he estimated from the size of the packages.
"A million credits, as agreed," a mercenary from the Robinson Gang said. "Where's the goods?"
"Here, in the crates," a mercenary from the Rat Gang replied. "'Cinnamon' of the highest quality."
The transaction went smoothly – the Rats opened the crates, showing packages of brown powder, and the Robinsons began to hand over the suitcase. Erich and Greg watched in silence, ready to act, but no one foresaw what happened next.
A bee flew under Greg's nose – small, mechanical, with pollen on its legs, apparently a remnant of past experiments in the plant. Greg, surprised, sneezed loudly before he could stop himself. The sound echoed through the hall, and the gang members immediately froze, drawing their weapons.
"Someone's here!"
Erich and Greg grabbed their pistols, ready to fight, but before they could reveal themselves, a piercing female scream rang out. From the ceiling of the hall, from a height of several meters, a hooded figure in a black cloak jumped down, landing on the ground with a bang. In her hands, she held a scythe – a long, shining weapon that hit the concrete with such force that the shock wave pushed the gang members aside. Some fell, others rolled on the floor, losing their weapons. As the gangs began to rise, the mysterious figure rushed to attack. The scythe whistled through the air, cutting with precision and brutality – one of the Rats fell with a cut chest, another from Robinson lost an arm, screaming in pain. Blood spurted onto the concrete, and chaos engulfed the hall.
"Who is that?" Greg asked, terrified. "Death?"
"Calm down," Erich said, raising his Browning. "It's not Death, it's something more mundane."
They both opened fire on the gang members, taking advantage of the confusion. Erich hit one of the Robinsons in the arm, and Greg knocked down a Rat who was trying to escape towards the exit. Meanwhile, the hooded figure continued the massacre, her movements were fast and fluid, almost dance-like, and the scythe left a bloody trail behind.
After the bloody massacre, when the dust and smoke settled, and the bodies of the Robinson and Rat Gang members lay scattered on the concrete floor, Erich and Greg cautiously peeked out from behind the pillars. The mysterious figure, who had decimated the gangs, threw off her cloak and hood, revealing herself to their eyes. She was a British Shorthair cat with light gray fur with dark spots and black long hair with bangs. She was wearing a leather biker jacket zipped halfway, short black shorts, and combat boots.
Erich looked at her jacket and squinted, analyzing its details.
"Is that Lewis Leathers?" he asked, peeking from behind the pillar.
"I think so," Greg said, looking. "It looks like a Lightning 402L model."
"I don't think so. I think it's a Lightning 391L."
At that moment, the cat turned towards them.
"Guys, I know you're there."
Erich and Greg immediately hid their heads behind the pillars. Greg whispered to Erich:
"Let's bet on a drink," Greg said. "If it's a 402L, you're buying."
"Alright, but it's a 391L, so get your credits ready."
Erich, a little shy, came out from behind the pillar, approaching Stella. When he stood in front of her, he looked at her jacket and quipped:
"Nice jacket," Erich said sarcastically. "Let me guess, Lightning 391L?"
The cat widened her eyes for a moment, as if surprised by his knowledge, then smiled broadly, revealing sharp fangs.
"I see that you're a man of culture," the cat replied. "Exactly."
"Damn it!!" Greg shouted, coming out from behind the pillar. "In that case, I'm buying. But what?"
"I don't know," Erich replied. "But for the loser, I'll buy a 'Void's Whisper'."
"Just not a Void's Whisper," Greg said resignedly.
Erich, curious, looked at Stella and asked:
"What are you doing here?"
"I've been tracking the Rat Gang for some time," she replied. "This isn't the first transaction of theirs that I've tried to disrupt."
Greg, still intrigued by her presence, interjected:
"Where did you come from?"
"I'm Stella," she replied. "I used to belong to the Warlord."
Greg was stunned for a moment.
"The... the Warlord... That Warlord."
"Greg, check the goods," Erich said, then continued the conversation. "Warlord... What happened to them?"
"One day my gang met with the Rat Gang. We had the numerical superiority, but it wasn't enough. The 'Rats' opened fire – without warning, without mercy. They killed almost everyone. I was the only one who survived."
Her voice trembled, and she stopped her story, looking down. Erich sensed that something was bothering her.
"What happened then? What's eating you?"
Stella glanced at him, then nodded towards the side corridor.
"Let's go somewhere private."
In the shadow of one of the machines, away from the main hall, Stella told the rest of her story.
"After the Warlord massacre, I was kidnapped by the Rat Gang. They held me... and molested me. I managed to escape, but Maus – their leader's right hand – stood in my way. I fought him on the tenth floor of an old factory. I won, throwing him down. Since then, I've been wearing this jacket – I got it from my mother."
Erich listened in silence, his face stiff. Something in her story moved him deeply. He looked at her, hesitating for a moment, then decided to open up.
"I understand you more than you think."
Stella looked at him with tears in her eyes.
"You don't understand anything."
Erich decided to finish his thought.
"My father was an alcoholic, and his concubine... molested me when I was young. She made him drunk to have a free hand. Eventually, I killed her – in self-defense. When I saw my dying father and the paranoia in her eyes. The investigation showed that she was the wife of an NSDAP officer, but I was pardoned. It broke me for years."
"I... How?"
"In my country after the civil war, wives of NSDAP officers were considered the 'lost generation of women'."
"Why?"
"Most women turned to prostitution. That's how my father met her. He was heartbroken after my mother's death, despite being a national hero."
Stella looked at him with sympathy, her eyes softened.
"My parents weren't any better either. My father drank, my mother would do anything for her career – she even sold her soul to Void. They fled the British People's Republic, and I was born and raised here in Interpolis."
Erich raised an eyebrow, hearing about the BPR.
"British People's Republic?"
"Yes, my parents were fleeing repression."
"My parents came from the same dimension as yours. It's an interesting twist of fate. I come from there too."
Stella, still in the shadow of the machine, looked at Erich in surprise when he mentioned the common dimension of their past.
"You come from the same dimension as my parents? From the British People's Republic? What happened there after they fled?"
"I'm not from the BPR," Erich said. "I'm from Germany."
Surprised, Stella listened to Erich's story.
"What happened in my dimension was one big hell. Germany fell into an economic and political crisis even before I was born – chaos, unemployment, street fights. My mother was killed, shot by the SA when I was a child. Then came the civil war – Germany split into factions, we fought for everything. Eventually, a new Germany was formed, but for me, it was just the beginning."
Stella listened in silence, her eyes shining in the dim light as Erich continued.
"I told you about my father and his concubine – how she molested me, made him drunk, until I had to kill her in self-defense. But that's not all. Later came the Battle of Horsens – a bloody massacre where I lost many comrades. They caught me and sent me to a gulag. There I experienced something strange..."
"What was it?"
"I was fatally shot in the head, but I survived and gave my tormentor what he deserved."
"You... You killed him?"
"Yes... One day I started a riot, escaped, returned to Germany. And then came the coalition war against the USSR and the BPR. We fought to overthrow communism – and we won. The fall of these tyrannies brought peace, and I could finally live normally... for a while."
Stella, still surprised, tilted her head.
"What happened to the BPR? My parents never returned, but I always wondered how it ended."
"Great Britain returned to the maps. After years of communist tyranny, the coalition overthrew the BPR, and the country regained its identity. It wasn't easy – blood, chaos, but in the end, it worked."
"And what about the USSR?"
"After the war, the Soviet Union disintegrated into smaller countries, and Russia – the largest state among all the separated ones, disintegrated into smaller republics. From what I remember, there are about 30 of them."
Stella looked at him with gratitude, her voice trembled slightly.
"You fought for a better world... I'm grateful that you were a part of it, even if my parents never returned there."
Erich waved his hand, as if to downplay his merits.
"It's a trifle. I did what I had to do to survive and change something. There's nothing to talk about."
"For me, you still did something great."
After a moment of reflection, Erich looked at Stella, his eyes narrowed in thought. Then he said:
"I have a proposition for you."
"What is it?" Stella asked, surprised.
"Greg and I belong to Vectron, an organization working against Void and its allies. I think your help will be really important. Will you help us?"
Stella crossed her arms, and her expression hardened.
"No... I don't want to get into that mess again. The Warlord was enough for a lifetime."
Despite the fact that Stella refused, Erich tried to convince her again, approaching her and looking her in the eyes.
"I know it's hard for you after everything you've been through, but I know you also want revenge. I've seen you fight – it's not just about survival, but about something more. If you join us, you can fulfill your revenge, but you can also fight for a better tomorrow, not just for yourself, but for everyone Void has destroyed. All those people who suffer from the Corporation's oppression – think about them, they deserve it, just like you."
Stella was silent for a moment, looking at the scythe lying at her feet. Her ears twitched, and finally, she looked Erich in the eyes.
"Alright, you've convinced me. If I can get back at them, I'm in."
Erich and Stella, after finishing their conversation, left the side corridor to the main hall, where Greg was still examining the goods left by the Rat Gang.
"What did you find?" Erich asked, crouching.
"It's not a drug," Greg said, picking up a bag of brown powder. "It's just cinnamon... as in the spice."
"Typical of the 'Rats'," Stella said sarcastically. "They have a tendency to fake the goods. They probably wanted to cheat the Robinsons and take the credits without risk."
Erich looked at the metal suitcase left by the Robinson Gang, which contained a million credits. He frowned, approaching and looking at the bundles of banknotes through the ajar flap.
"Wait... If the goods were fake, maybe these credits are fake too."
"I don't think so," Stella replied. "The 'Robinsons' aren't stupid enough to pay with fakes. That would put them at too much risk."
"In Poland, before the redenomination of the currency, banknote counterfeiting was the order of the day," Erich replied, picking up one of the bundles of banknotes. "At first glance, it was hard to distinguish them from the originals – colors, patterns, everything looked good. But if you looked closer, the differences came out: no micro-prints, bad holograms, unevenness in the paper. If the 'Rats' cheated with the goods, the 'Robinsons' could have done the same with the money."
"So if the banknotes are fake, it was a fair deal?" Greg asked.
"If these banknotes are fake, then the banknotes from 'Eurobusiness' will have a higher value," Erich replied sarcastically.
"Eurobusiness?" Stella asked.
"A board game," Erich explained. "It was about buying real estate, trading it, building houses and hotels, all with fictional banknotes. They looked like real money – colorful, with denominations, even had some patterns – but they were, of course, worthless outside the game. If these credits are fake, we might as well play 'Eurobusiness' – at least there the deception is part of the fun."
"So you're saying that if these credits are fake, they're like a toy for children?" Stella asked. "Without real value?"
"In 'Eurobusiness' at least you know you're playing a trick," Erich replied. "Here, the 'Rats' and 'Robinsons' thought they were outsmarting each other, and now they're lying dead. Irony of fate."
After all this, Erich became much more serious.
"We have a new member on the team."
"Stella is joining us?" Greg asked, surprised.
"Exactly," the person in question replied. "I'll fight Void with you."
"How did you manage to convince her?"
"Just a little 'magic dust' was enough," Erich replied sarcastically. "But seriously, you know that Vectron opposes the Corporation, and hitting the gangs can hurt Void."
"I want to avenge my comrades from the Warlord," Stella replied confidently. "And at the same time, I'll show Void where they belong."
"Thanks to us, you'll have that opportunity," Greg replied, getting up with the suitcase of cinnamon.
"Alright, let's go," Erich said, taking the suitcase of money.
The trio headed towards the exit of the Bulleid Plants, passing the bodies of the gangs. When they reached the Hover-tec Chevelle II, Stella stopped for a moment, looking at the vehicle.
"Wait a minute..." she said, surprised. "I've seen this car before. Were you the ones the Black Volgas were chasing?"
"I had a little business to settle with them," Erich replied, getting into the car. "Scores to settle with the Soviets."
"What exactly?" she asked, getting into the back.
Erich explained the whole situation that happened at the "Brighton Belle" bar.
"You probably know the rest of the story," Erich said, finishing.
"So that Koborenko was an agent?" she asked.
"He was..." Erich replied, starting the engine. "And then a chase ensued. Five Volgas against one Hover-tec."
After they both put the suitcases in the back seat, Erich looked at Greg.
"Alright, that's taken care of. Now we need to deal with the Khan family."
"Ah yes, the documents from my brother."
Stella looked at them in surprise.
"The Khan family? What do they have to do with this?"
"My brother worked for them at the bazaar in the Southern District – traded, organized," Greg said with difficulty. "Before he died, he left some documents with them for safekeeping. These documents were quite important to Void, so he hid them with the Khans before they caught him."
"And what kind of documents are they?"
"I only know that it was related to the railway. Some data, plans – something that could harm them."
"In that case, let's go," Erich replied, starting the Hover-tec.
After that, they headed towards the bazaar.