Ji-won and Itachi exchanged one more glance before making their decision. They couldn't leave Beto alone with The Doctor, no matter how terrifying the man seemed.
They dropped down through the vent opening, landing in practiced crouches on either side of Beto.
The moment Itachi's feet touched the floor, he froze.
His eyes locked onto The Doctor's face, and something fundamental broke in his usually calm demeanor. His breathing became shallow. His hands trembled. The same cocktail of fear, rage, and traumatic recognition that had paralyzed Beto now gripped Itachi as well.
Ji-won looked between her two companions, confusion and growing alarm warring in her expression. "What's wrong with you two?"
Neither man could answer. They just stared at The Doctor, their bodies remembering horrors their minds had tried to bury.
"Ah," The Doctor said pleasantly, adjusting his glasses. "Two of my subjects together. What are the odds? It's almost like a reunion."
That word—"subjects"—seemed to break through Beto's paralysis. Rage overtook fear, at least temporarily.
With a roar, he lunged at The Doctor, fire already beginning to manifest around his hands.
The Doctor's hand moved calmly to his coat pocket.
He pulled out a small device—simple, utilitarian, with a single red button on its surface. Without any visible concern for the large man charging at him with literal fire, The Doctor pressed the button.
The effect was immediate and devastating.
Both Itachi and Beto collapsed to their knees, their hands flying to their ears. Their faces contorted in agony, mouths open in silent screams as some sound—inaudible to Ji-won—pierced through their skulls.
Beto's fire extinguished instantly as he lost all concentration. Itachi's enhanced reflexes meant nothing when he couldn't think straight enough to use them.
"Stop it!" Ji-won shouted, rushing at The Doctor with her hand moving toward her katana.
The Doctor made a casual gesture with his free hand, as if conducting an invisible orchestra.
Three metallic fists appeared from nowhere—floating in mid-air, hovering like wasps. They moved at The Doctor's direction, intercepting Ji-won before she could reach him.
The first fist caught her in the stomach, driving the air from her lungs. The second struck her shoulder, spinning her around. The third came from behind, hitting her lower back and sending her stumbling forward.
She tried to draw her sword, but the mechanical fists were relentless, striking from multiple angles simultaneously. Each impact was precisely calculated—painful but not permanently damaging, designed to disable rather than kill.
"You can't beat him," Itachi gasped out between waves of pain from the sound in his ears. "Just... take Beto... and go!"
Ji-won caught Beto as he collapsed completely, his hands still pressed to his ears. She half-dragged, half-carried him toward the door, the mechanical fists harrying them but not preventing their escape—almost as if The Doctor was allowing them to leave.
As Ji-won struggled to get Beto through the door, The Doctor spoke again, his voice still that same pleasant, conversational tone.
"You think you can run from me? Don't worry—I'll let you have a head start while I deal with this one."
He looked down at Itachi, who was still on his knees, the sound device continuing its invisible torture.
"You're probably wondering about the sound in your ears," The Doctor continued, as if lecturing to an interested student. "It's quite ingenious, actually. When a child is brought to my laboratory—and they always come as children, you understand, because that's when the modifications take best—the first thing we do is implant a device. Very small, very precise, embedded deep in the ear canal where it can't be easily removed without causing permanent deafness."
He paced slowly around Itachi, who could barely focus on his words through the pain.
"The device is normally dormant. Silent. The subject never knows it's there. But when someone escapes—as you and Beto did, though I confess I'm impressed you both lasted this long on the outside—we have a simple solution. We get within range, press this button, and the device activates."
The Doctor held up the red button device. "It emits a frequency that only these implants can detect. To everyone else, complete silence. But to someone with the implant? Unbearable. Disorienting. Eventually, if I hold the button long enough, you'll lose balance entirely and slip into unconsciousness. Makes recapturing escaped subjects remarkably simple."
He tilted his head, studying Itachi with clinical interest. "Though I must say, I'm curious how you managed to develop such impressive abilities without my continued supervision. You were one of my more promising projects, but you escaped before I could complete the full protocol. And yet here you are, demonstrating mastery of techniques I never taught you. Fascinating."
Ji-won had gotten Beto out of the room and into the hallway, but the building was no longer quiet.
Alarms blared throughout the facility—not the sharp, urgent sounds of a security breach, but something else. A specific pattern that seemed to indicate something significant had happened.
Through the chaos of noise and movement, Ji-won caught fragments of shouted conversations as security personnel rushed past:
"—all of them, every single item—"
"—how did they get past—"
"—calling themselves the Raccoons—"
"—biggest heist in La Vendetta history—"
Ji-won's mind raced as she dragged Beto down the corridor, trying to process what she was hearing. The Raccoons. She'd heard that name before.
In the criminal underworld, two mercenary organizations stood above all others in reputation and capability. Night Wolf was one—known for being the best, the most skilled, the most dangerous. And the Raccoons were the other—famous not for combat prowess, but for impossible heists conducted with Robin Hood-like principles. They stole from the powerful and corrupt, redistributed wealth to those who needed it, and disappeared like ghosts.
If the Raccoons had hit the auction while Night Wolf was trying to steal the pills, that was either incredible coincidence or phenomenally bad timing.
The alarm, the chaos, the security scrambling to respond—it might provide cover for their escape. But it also meant the building was about to become a war zone.
Beto was starting to recover, the sound device apparently having limited range. He could stumble along with Ji-won's support now, though his coordination was still compromised.
"We need to hide," Beto gasped. "Catch our breath. Figure out where Marvel is."
"In here," Ji-won said, spotting a door marked as a conference room.
She shouldered it open and pulled Beto inside.
Then she froze.
The room was large and well-appointed, with expensive furniture and artwork suggesting it was reserved for important meetings. A long conference table dominated the center of the space.
And around that table sat eight people.
They all turned to look at the two fugitives who had just burst into their private meeting.
The eight individuals were clearly important—their clothing, their bearing, their reactions all spoke of power and authority. They'd been in the middle of a discussion, documents and tablets spread across the table, and the intrusion had interrupted what was obviously a serious conversation.
"Well," one of them said, a middle-aged man with an expensive suit and a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "This is unexpected."
Ji-won's hand moved to her katana, ready to fight if necessary. But something about the situation felt wrong. These people weren't security. They weren't panicking about the alarms. They were just... sitting there, discussing something calmly while chaos erupted outside.
"Who are you?" Ji-won demanded, trying to project confidence despite the desperate circumstances.
"The better question," the man replied, "is who are *you*? And why are you running through our facility during such an inconvenient time?"
He stood up from his chair, and Ji-won noticed something odd. Everyone else at the table—all seven of them—deferred to him. Their body language suggested he was in charge.
"I am Joker," the man said. "Though I suppose my formal title would be Greed, if we're being honest about affiliations."
Ji-won's blood ran cold.
Greed. One of the seven sins. One of the cult members Night Wolf had been hunting.
The richest man in the world, whose real name was unknown, who controlled half the global economy through shell corporations and proxies.
And she and Beto had just stumbled directly into a meeting he was attending.
"Ah," Mr. Z said, noting her recognition. "I see you know who I am. How interesting. That suggests you're not just common thieves, doesn't it?"
He looked past Ji-won and Beto to the door they'd entered through, as if expecting someone else.
"And where are the others? Surely you didn't attempt a heist during the biggest auction in La Vendetta's history with just two people?" His smile widened. "Unless you're not actually here for the auction at all. Which raises so many fascinating questions."