An elevator connected to an open basement parking lot. Someone rushed out while running. They looked around—the basement parking seemed deserted—different from when they had arrived with Gregory Illéa a few hours earlier. The luxury vehicles that had filled the parking area were now slowly dwindling, their owners having gone back inside the building or left the party.
Noel had no idea how long he had been asleep with Alexei. One thing was certain: night was approaching its midpoint. The cold basement air pierced his skin, which was only covered by a thin white shirt. Noel shivered, not only because of the temperature, but also because he realised that his jacket—and his gun—were still back in Alexei's suite.
"GREGORY...!" Noel shouted. His voice echoed among the concrete pillars, bouncing back without an answer. If Rolan hadn't taken his phone, he wouldn't be in such a predicament, searching for that man like this.
Noel ran along the rows of cars, his eyes sweeping every corner, looking for the black sedan they had used earlier. For sixteen minutes, Noel had been running while enduring the biting cold of the night wind that felt like it was stinging his skin. He wore only a white shirt with two buttons undone, revealing his neck, which bore a kiss mark—Alexei's handiwork while Noel had been asleep. It was also that man who had removed Noel's jacket.
Though fatigue was setting in, it didn't deter Noel from continuing his search for Gregory. His only goal was to get out of here, away from Alexei, and back to a safe place.
As Noel bent over, clutching his knees while gasping for breath, at that very moment a car came speeding directly towards him. The headlights shone brightly, making Noel squint and freeze for a moment—then the car stopped abruptly just a few metres in front of him. The glare of its lights dazzled his vision.
Noel narrowed his eyes and shielded the light with his hand.
Several footsteps hurried out of the car after the headlights were turned off. Doors opened, tall figures emerged with quick, coordinated movements—not just thugs, Noel thought, these were professionals. Several men armed with pistols, wearing ski masks, formed a circle around him.
Noel was surrounded, unable to escape. Resigned, he stared at the group with tired eyes. Just as Noel thought his fate would end here, suddenly a voice sounded.
"Need help?"
That voice—calm, cold, effortless. It wasn't a voice coming from his own mouth, but echoing inside his head. A voice he hadn't heard since that night in the New York apartment. The voice of the true owner of this body.
Noel snapped awake instantly, his lips uttering one word. "Nate!"
There was no answer. But Noel felt it—that presence, in the dark corner of his consciousness, like a shadow waiting. And for the first time tonight, Noel did not feel alone.
*
Night was growing deeper, while Gregory Illéa was still waiting for Noel in the car. It had been over an hour since he'd called and the call was answered by a teenage boy. Gregory was certain that Noel was being held by Alexei at that moment. If not, Noel would have returned within just a few minutes.
Outside, the basement parking lot was becoming empty. Several cars had already left their spots, leaving rows of empty spaces that only made their position more visible. Gregory turned off his car lights, preferring to remain submerged in the darkness.
Seconds turned into minutes. Time continued to move forward. His index finger tapped the steering wheel in a rhythmic pattern, while one hand gripped his phone, waiting for a call from Noel.
The phone in his hand vibrated again. From Noel. Gregory immediately answered the call and brought the phone to his ear.
"Uncle, where is your car parked?" A teenage boy's voice asked on the other end. Not the person Gregory had been hoping for.
There was the sound of heavy breathing accompanied by the tapping of footsteps on the floor echoing through the basement.
Gregory let out a short sigh. "Block 23," he answered, and stepped out of the car. His eyes narrowed as he saw, from a distance, a teenage boy running towards him while waving. He couldn't help but offer the boy a smile.
When the distance between them was just ten metres, still while running, Rolan called out, "Uncle, don't move!"
Gregory frowned, but he followed Rolan's instruction not to move. When Rolan was just five metres away, the teenager took a pistol from his pocket and immediately fired towards Gregory.
The bullet Rolan shot flew quickly past the man, hitting the stranger behind him. That man—who had been lurking from behind a pillar—collapsed without a sound, his forehead pierced. At that moment, the man fell motionless, dead with a bullet hole in his forehead.
Unexpectedly, from behind Rolan, another man appeared, aiming a pistol at him. Realising the danger threatening from behind, Gregory pulled Rolan, who was already in front of him, to take cover behind the car.
"Look out!"
Just before a sharp screeching sound was heard, Gregory had managed to pull Rolan's body to the side of the car. The enemy's bullet hit the car's body, leaving a small hole in the door right beside their heads. The man squinted, scanning in various directions from his alert position.
"So you realised someone was watching us?" he asked softly to the teenager beside him.
Rolan nodded. Meanwhile, his hands were busy reloading his magazine—not the 17 rounds, but a new magazine for his Glock 17. "I've shot two of them on my way here."
Gregory understood; he glanced briefly at Rolan. This teenager, at barely more than ten years old, had dared to handle a gun. Setting that aside, the most important thing now was the enemy.
"Who exactly are they?" Gregory asked, curious.
Rolan answered after finishing reloading his bullets. "They're most likely Malevsky's security."
"...Malevsky?" A surname all too familiar to Gregory. Rudolf Malevsky—an oligarch who had once competed with the Tsvetkov family, now known as one of the key players in the black-market trade of biological weapons. Gregory had heard his name mentioned by Nate, always in a context that was never good.
"Yeah, a while ago he wanted something from Walt Daddy. A sample of a liquid still in the development stage at the lab. But Daddy refused. So, I guess he's here to provoke Daddy into handing it over," Rolan explained calmly, as if events like this were routine. After finishing with his weapon equipment, he said, "Uncle, let's go!"
"Wait, don't act rashly!" Gregory called out. But Rolan didn't respond to his call; the teenager kept running, chasing after targets whose numbers were unknown. Gregory sighed, then followed—he had no other choice.
*
For Noel, this basement parking lot now felt like another world inhabited by hundreds of zombies from a Resident Evil game. The atmosphere was so tense. He felt lost and tossed about, his mind shaken and unsettled.
But something was different. In the dark corner of his consciousness, he felt Nate's presence—silent, watching, waiting. Like a shadow ready to protect. Or to take over.
One of the several sturdy-built men stepped forward.
"Long time no see, Nate."
Noel didn't answer. He just stood still, trying to remember everything Gregory had taught him. Don't panic. Don't show fear. Another ski-masked man approached him from behind and suddenly kicked Noel hard in the back, causing his body to lurch forward and fall.
His knees and palms hit the rough asphalt. Painful, but Noel held back from crying out.
Damn it! Noel cursed them silently.
The man in a dark grey leather jerkin and black trousers smiled contemptuously. In his bowed position, Noel could see a pair of feet in black derby shoes walking closer. He winced as he felt the fingers of a large hand lock one of his arms behind his back, while the other hand forcibly pulled a handful of his blonde hair from the back of his head. At this close distance, Noel could see a wild, fierce black eye on the man's arrogant face.
"You haven't changed at all, have you, Nate."
Noel knew who this man was.
Rudolf Malevsky. The name Gregory had mentioned a week ago—someone who held a long-standing grudge against Nate, and also against Alexei. Noel didn't know the details, but from the way this man stared, that grudge was still burning.
"Malevsky, let go!" he shrieked, the pain from his scalp being pulled hard.
Instead of letting go, Rudolf just chuckled softly. "Actually, I have business with Director Tsvetkov. It's a coincidence that I run into you here. Tell me, what made you come back and leave your life in Manhattan?"
It wasn't an answer that Rudolf received, but a sharp glare accompanied by the sound of gritting teeth from the man whose hair was still being clutched by one of his thugs.
Rudolf merely snorted roughly. One hand took a sheathed knife from his waist, then directed its blade's point right at Noel's left cheek.
"You know, for sixteen years I've missed you. Missed the moments when I would drag a hot blade across your body like back then." Rudolf caressed his knife down to Noel's jaw.
The coldness of the iron touching his skin, accompanied by fear, sent a shiver through him.
Noel pleaded softly in his heart, Nate, help me!
"Calm down. I'm here." That voice returned, clearer this time. Noel felt a strange calm spread from within, like an adrenaline shot that slowly eased his fear.
Rudolf's malicious smile faded, replaced by a mocking look after his attention was unintentionally caught by the mark Alexei had left on Noel's neck.
"You now are nothing more than a rabbit under the paw of a hungry lion, waiting for death to come, or like a whore's son following in his mother's footsteps." After uttering the insult, the man ordered his men to release Noel.
When Noel staggered, a kick landed on his stomach. The perpetrator was none other than Rudolf.
Wincing, Noel collapsed while clutching his aching stomach. A groan of pain was then forced from his mouth as Rudolf again kicked and stomped on the back of Noel's hand.
Noel's groans grew louder as he endured the pain of his fingers being crushed under Rudolf's shoe. Two large men crouched near Noel, twisting his right arm behind his back.
Satisfied with stomping until the hand of the man he knew as Nate slid across the floor, covered in red scratches, Rudolf sheathed his knife again. "Put him in the car. Father will be pleased that his prey that once escaped has now returned."
Without delay, the two men immediately dragged Noel towards a car, then threw him onto the back seat.
"Let me go!" Noel struggled, filled with fear. His heartbeat grew wilder, as if wanting to break his ribs, as Rudolf pressed down, sitting on his stomach while Noel lay sprawled. Traces of pain were clearly visible on every line of Noel's face. He was startled when he suddenly realised that Rudolf's left hand was already on his neck, and his right hand was gripping a pistol, aiming it directly at his temple.
"If you try anything funny, I won't hesitate to shoot and splatter the contents of your head everywhere!" Rudolf's threat was no joke.
"Bastard!" Driven by anger, Noel spat in Rudolf's face, his saliva running down the man's cheek. Rudolf stared sharply at Noel, wiping the liquid from his face with the back of his hand.
A punch landed on Noel's cheekbone, delivered by Rudolf's fist. The punch was so strong that it left a bruised mark. The pain brought tears to his eyes, though they didn't fall. This time, Noel managed to stay strong and hold them back. He could see an evil intent in the black eyes of the man now holding him down. Rudolf was searching for something in a black bag located under the car's seat.
While Rudolf looked away, Noel scanned his surroundings, trying to find something. His eyes caught the glint of metal at Rudolf's waist—the knife. The sheath was still hanging, but the knife had been returned after Rudolf had finished threatening him. Bingo, he had it.
"Now!"
Like lightning, Noel pulled the knife from the sheath at Rudolf's waist and slashed it right across the owner's face.
"Arrghh! You bloody bastard!!!" Rudolf screamed, his strangling grip on Noel's neck released.
Noel kicked the man's groin hard, causing its owner to stumble backwards and hit the car's window. One of Rudolf's guards, who was driving, turned to see what was happening. At that instant, Noel snatched the pistol from Rudolf's hand.
The sound of a gunshot rang out loudly as the bullet successfully pierced the head of a ski-masked man. Blood and glass shards sprayed everywhere. The driverless car sped out of control, crashing into several other vehicles before finally stopping after hitting a pillar.
Quickly taking to his heels, Noel opened the car door beside him, leaping out and rolling onto the basement floor. His knees and elbows were scraped, but he immediately got up.
A loud crash of metal rang out as the car hit a basement pillar, smoke rising from its bonnet. Shortly after, someone climbed out of the car.
"Catch Killer Rabbit! I don't care if he's dead or alive!" Rudolf shouted, clutching the wound on his face. Blood continued to flow out from between his fingers covering the injury.
Noel could hear the man ordering his subordinates, his tone filled with rage. And sure enough, on the other side, a car arrived with five people getting out—carrying long-barrelled rifles, moving in a well-trained formation. They spread out in various directions to surround Noel. Unlike the previous members, these weren't wearing masks.
Noel watched them from a distance as he crouched to hide among the rows of parked cars. His body still ached from the earlier punch.
"What should I do now?" Noel asked the half-soul that still resided in the body he now occupied.
That voice whispered like the sound of a stream babbling in spring. "Stay like this for a moment. Breathe in and calm yourself."
Noel nodded twice, obeying, and exhaled, trying to calm down. The cold basement floor could be felt against his palms, still wet with sweat and blood.
"Nate, why did you force me into this crazy game of yours?" Noel threw out the question in the middle of this emergency. His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest, as if about to break his ribs. Fear slowly crept through his veins, vibrating through his entire body until tears spilled.
Noel, in his original body fifteen years ago, had been an innocent young man of seventeen. The first year one was considered an adult. And after his soul returned to the mortal world following death, suddenly Noel's soul was inside the body of a hitman, often caught between life and death.
[•°]