Ethan swallowed.
He didn't ask for details; now wasn't the time.
The answer already hung in the air, heavy and bitter.
Flash handed him the mug again, once more filled with the same murky gray liquid.
«Drink. It'll take effect immediately.»
Ethan took a deep breath, looked at the mug, at the tiny particles floating in it, at how the lamplight refracted on the viscous surface.
He closed his eyes.
«For Maria», he whispered.
And took a swallow, one, two, three, and drained it to the bottom.
The liquid burned his throat, slid down his esophagus like an icy lump, spread in his stomach. He coughed but kept it all down.
He set the empty mug on the table; the sound rang loud in the hangar's silence.
Flash nodded, short and approving.
«Now you're poisonous to them. At least for twenty-four hours.»
He spread a huge map across the table, old, worn, covered in layers of marks, stickers, faded lines.
The paper rustled under his fingers like dry leaves. Flash took a red marker and began circling points, slowly and methodically.
«Here», he said, placing a thick cross on the city's outskirts, in the industrial zone where the map showed only warehouses and abandoned rail lines.
«This is where it begins.»
He stood opposite Ethan, calm, certain, like a man who had walked this path a thousand times.
«Blood bank, their territory. No one goes there without an invitation. Officially it's a distribution center for synthetic analogs.
In reality they store real blood there, the kind they don't trust to anyone but their own.
That's also where their main archive is, documents, compensation lists. Names of those they've written off.
And even names of those who refused to obey their will.»
Ethan shifted nervously from foot to foot, hands in pockets clenching and unclenching. He listened, trying to hide the tremor, but it still crept into his voice.
«Call the secretary like I told you», Flash continued, lighting a cigarette.
The lighter's flame illuminated his face for a second, sharp shadows, scars that had been invisible before.
«Tomorrow at 14:30. Tell her you've changed your mind.
That you're ready to accept compensation, tired of fighting.
The secretary will pass it up. They'll be pleased, schedule a meeting at the bank — that's their standard procedure for people like you.»
He exhaled smoke slowly, looking Ethan in the eyes.
Smoke rose in light spirals from Flash's cigarette, dissolving in the hangar's cold air that smelled of metal, gunpowder, and old dust.
He took another deep drag, down to the filter, and slowly blew the smoke aside as though shooing away an invisible enemy.
«They'll relax», he added, flicking ash straight onto the concrete floor. The gray clump fell and crumbled into dust.
«They'll see you come for the money, lower their guard, sign papers.
Pat you on the shoulder, and then…» he paused, the corner of his mouth twisting into a cold smirk, «then we kick these bastards in the ass.»
Flash's hand trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly, but Ethan saw it. The little weasel immediately climbed onto his shoulder, squeaking softly:
«Pii-i-i»
As though soothing him.
Her black bead-eyes looked at Ethan with curiosity and faint reproach, as though she already knew what he would say next.
Ethan ran his fingers over Bullet's soft fur, cautiously, almost shyly. The weasel didn't pull away, only turned her head slightly, allowing the petting.
But Ethan's eyes remained tense.
«But I'm not going to kill anyone», he forced out, barely audible, as though afraid the words would become too real if spoken louder.
Flash looked at him directly, long, without a smile or even judgment. Just looked, like a man who had seen too many such conversations.
«I'm not asking you to kill», he answered at last.
Ethan stood in the half-dark of the abandoned warehouse, where the air was thick with dust and the smell of rust.
His pale, trembling fingers clutched an empty ampoule, a fragile glass vial that had only recently held something that could change everything.
His knuckles whitened as though trying to squeeze all his strength from them. Shadows swirled around him — Flash with his eternal smirk hiding something predatory, and Bullet, that strange, restless creature perched on his shoulder like a living reminder of life.
Gideon stayed silent in the corner, his massive figure blending with torn boxes and cobwebs, but his gaze was heavy as lead.
«We need information», Ethan said quietly, almost a whisper, yet confidence threaded through his voice. The ampoule cracked in his fist but didn't break, only the echo of the sound spread through the empty space, bouncing off metal walls.
Flash nodded, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling on a frayed cord.
He made a slow, calming gesture with his hand, as though coaxing a wild animal not to snap its chain.
«Good… we'll do it», he answered, and his tone carried the same mix of certainty and hidden tension.
The warehouse seemed even more menacing in that moment, walls coated in grime and old graffiti pressing in from all sides, the air thick with mold.
Ethan turned to the old, battered phone lying on an improvised table made from an overturned crate.
That relic from the past caught exactly one network — the vampire corporate one, the kind that operated in shadows far from human eyes.
The antenna crackled, giving off weak, intermittent signals as though struggling against invisible interference. The screen glowed a dull green, casting ghostly flickers across Ethan's face.
His fingers hovered over the buttons, heart pounding in his chest like a drum in an empty room.
What if this is a mistake? What if they already know?
Finally his finger pressed CALL. The dial tone was monotonous, echoing in the warehouse's silence.
Ethan felt sweat trickle down his back, cold and sticky under his thin shirt.
There was no greeting on the other end, no human warmth — only a mechanical, emotionless voice, as though generated by a machine.
«State your name.»
Ethan froze.
The second stretched into eternity; he heard his own breathing, heavy and uneven, felt Bullet fidget on his shoulder, nervously gnawing at the fabric.
Flash stood beside him, his presence solid as support yet also a reminder of the risk.
Ethan took a deep breath, swallowing the lump of dry air that scraped his throat.
«Ethan Hitcher», he said, trying to make his voice firm, though a crack still slipped through.
«I… would like to accept the compensation.»
Another unbearable second of silence.
Time dragged like a long river current. Ethan stared at the phone, pupils wide in the gloom, ears ringing with tension.
Flash made a calming palm-down gesture, hand rising and falling slowly, mimicking the rhythm of breathing.
Bullet, that small unpredictable creature, rubbed nervously against Ethan's shoulder.
Finally the voice replied, cutting through Ethan's ears.
«Request accepted.»
A short clack of keys echoed through the receiver, as though someone on the other end was pressing buttons with mechanical precision.
«Meeting location: Arteria-Line, office thirteen. Tomorrow, 21:00.»
The line went dead with a sharp click, leaving Ethan in silence broken only by the antenna's crackle.
He exhaled as though he'd been holding his breath for ten full minutes; his chest dropped, shoulders sagged, air escaped in a hoarse groan.
His palms were slick with sweat; the phone slipped from his hand and thudded onto the table.
«God…», he forced out, voice trembling, eyes flashing with a mix of relief and horror. The warehouse suddenly felt even colder, a draft from cracks in the doors stirring dust on the floor.
Flash clapped him on the shoulder, hard but almost supportive, then looked at Ethan with his gaze alone.
We're in this together.
The palm was solid as stone, and Ethan felt the vibration through the fabric.
«We're in the game.»
Bullet jumped on Ethan's shoulder, confirming the words; her body vibrated, emitting a high, piercing sound:
«PIIIII!»
Like an alarm or excitement, echoing through the empty space.
Ethan felt the vibration ripple through his entire body, jangling nerves.
Then the boy took a heavy breath, air whistling out of his lungs in a long, broken hiss. He turned slowly, footsteps echoing on the concrete floor as he headed toward the exit.
Shadows stretched behind him like ghostly tails.
«I need to breathe…», he said through clenched teeth, voice muffled, almost an internal monologue.
Images swirled in his head: the Arteria-Line office, vampire networks, compensation that could cost him everything.
The warehouse door creaked, letting him out into the night air thick with the smell of rain and urban rot.
Flash started to stop him, hand reaching forward, fingers closing in the air, but the others held him back.
Gideon took Flash by the shoulder, his grip heavy as an anchor, voice thick with exhaustion accumulated over years.
«Let him catch his breath», he said heavily, the words hanging in the air like cigarette smoke. Flash nodded, lowering his hand, and they all stared at the door.
Everything in Ethan's mind darkened, the black silhouette of his back receding from the warehouse, merging with the night.
His footsteps faded, leaving behind only the echo of decisions that could change everything — or destroy it all.