A girl huddles on the grimy street, scavenging for scraps like a stray animal. A long rifle clings to her back—an odd contrast to her tattered clothes, torn enough to expose more skin than modesty allows. The Alligator and his crew stride by, their presence commanding attention.

  “Shion…” the Alligator’s voice is low, intrigued, as he stops and watches the girl.

  “Boss.”

  The Alligator's gaze lingers. “How do you evaluate this girl?”

  Shion steps closer, her hand instinctively reaching for the rifle. The girl flinches but doesn’t move, her eyes fixed on the pavement. Shion’s fingers trace the gun’s contours.

  “Ordinary. No power level.”

  “Why?” the Alligator asks, curiosity piqued.

  “The gun’s customized. Looks like a Specter SMAR-9 variant—longer barrel, larger firing point. Doesn’t fit her profile. Only experienced mercs get customized weapons like this.” Shion’s eyes flick to the girl’s face. “I doubt it’s hers.”

  The Alligator's smile is slow. “Explain.”

  “Skilled mercs don’t beg for scraps. They have cash, connections, leverage. This girl’s either a pawn… or a runaway.”

  The Alligator crouches, his voice softening. “A young woman like you shouldn’t be on the ground, feeding on scraps. Why are you here?”

  The girl looks up, a sly smile spreading across her lips. “No place to stay, sir… hungry. Got food?”

  “Shion,” the Alligator says calmly. “Take her. We leave.”

  Shion’s face twists. “Boss, a weakling won’t do any good for Black Mercury. A cockroach only exists to be crushed.”

  The Alligator's voice hardens. “Pick her. We leave.”

  Shion snarls, then hoists the girl onto her shoulder and follows the Alligator and the crew as they move out.

  Inside a dim, creaking wooden house, the Black Mercury gang gathers. The Alligator steps forward, offering the girl a plate of food. She snatches it instantly, devouring it with feral urgency. The room falls silent.

  When she finishes, she bows deeply, eyes gleaming with gratitude and caution.

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  “Thank you, sir…”

  The Alligator’s smile is measured. “What’s your name?”

  “Ellen, sir.”

  “Ellen,” the Alligator repeats. “Good.”

  Minutes later, the plate is empty.

  “Nina,” the Alligator says. “Shower her. Get her a uniform. She’s one of us now.”

  Nina nods once. “Fine. Follow me.”

  As Nina leads Ellen away, the Alligator pulls a folded paper from his pocket, scanning it.

  “A bounty of twenty-five thousand,” he murmurs. “Diata Gulu. Capture the culprit and report to the Opus Human Right's office for the reward.”

  His lips curl. “Shion. Go get him.”

  Shion takes the paper with a nod. “Roger.” She vanishes.

  Minutes later, she reappears, a coin clattering onto the table.

  “Boss. Job done.”

  The Alligator raises an eyebrow. “Already?”

  “Didn’t even break a sweat,” Shion replies coldly. “I need a better challenger next time. Not a runner.”

  The Alligator laughs. “Calm your temper. We hunt for money—and stability. Society benefits when wanted criminals disappear.”

  His laughter fades as he looks out the window.

  Peace never comes cheap, he thinks. Someone always pays.

  Day Two.

  Another bounty lies on the table.

  “One million,” the Alligator mutters, then pauses. “Sending Shion could compromise my identity with Captain Ariel.

  Maxwell steps forward. “Send me, boss.”

  The Alligator nods. “Good.” He hands over the paper. “This mission’s yours.”

  Maxwell vanishes.

  Day Three.

  A heavier file lands on the table.

  “Eight million,” the Alligator says. “Shion. Nina. Maxwell. Go. This target is a hardened killer. We need this much to claim victory."

  They depart together.

  Hours pass.

  They return battered and exhausted.

  The room is quiet—except for Ellen, asleep in Jacob’s chair, surrounded by biscuit wrappers and sweets.

  Shion snaps.

  “I don’t know why the boss shelters this swine!”

  Her palm cracks across Ellen’s face. Ellen collapses, still asleep.

  Shion raises her foot—

  Click.

  Ellen lifts into the air, slams into the wall, and opens her eyes lazily, as if mildly disturbed.

  Shion lunges—

  A hand clamps her wrist.

  “You don’t bully a fellow gang member,” K.B says coldly. “Ever.”

  “She eats, sleeps, and does nothing!” Shion snarls, yanking free. “She’s useless.”

  She storms out.

  The Alligator watches Ellen in silence. Something about her doesn’t sit right.

  Day Four.

  Spike spreads a map across the table. “Route to the entrance-northern base is set.”

  “How far?” the Alligator asks.

  “A few miles.”

  “Then we move.”

  K.B frowns. “The North isn’t predictable.”

  Spike answers evenly. “Security’s tight. Basement’s vulnerable.”

  The Alligator nods. “Their princess is tied to multiple illegal murders and trades. Human Rights has dozens of complaints. And fifty million is worth the risk.”

  K.B exhales. “They have formidable warriors.”

  “So do we,” the Alligator replies. "There're called the white Olives, the smallest army in the North.

  The Alligator chuckles. "We're formidable enough to take them down."

  They move.

  Near a small mountain town, the Alligator signals a halt.

  “We stay here. Nina—test them.”

  Nina nods and vanishes.

  She returns minutes later, weary. “Only three down. Ammo’s dry.”

  The Alligator’s eyes sharpen. “Shion. Maxwell. Head-on raid. Extract the princess.”

  They vanish.

  The Alligator and the others watch from the ridge as the battle begins.

  Shion and Maxwell materialize before the basement entrance, guns raised.

  The air tightens.

  The raid begins.