SICARII

Felix gave a nod to one of the men in the room. "I'll arrange for a car to pick you up," he said, turning back to Tiger. "It'll take you somewhere safe, away from prying eyes. We've got members stationed there, patrolling 24/7. You'll have nothing to worry about while you recover."

Tiger, still processing everything, gave a reluctant nod. Felix smirked and added, "Just don't do anything reckless, alright? Let us handle the heavy lifting for now."

Not long after, Tiger was escorted out of the TAK hideout, his movements slow but steady despite his injuries. A sleek black car was parked just outside, its windows tinted. The driver, a burly man with a shaved head and a TAK insignia tattooed on his forearm, stepped out and opened the back door for him. "Get in," he said curtly.

Tiger noticed two additional cars positioned strategically—one in front and one behind the main vehicle. Their engines hummed softly, and the drivers inside scanned the surroundings with sharp eyes. Clearly, Felix wasn't taking any chances with Tiger's safety.

The convoy rolled out, weaving through the crowded, chaotic streets of Labre. The city was alive even at night—neon signs flickered over dimly lit alleyways, vendors shouted their last sales pitches, and the sound of distant arguments and laughter filled the air. But as the cars ventured further from the city center, the atmosphere began to shift.

They entered a more rundown district on the outskirts of Labre City. The streets were cracked, lined with abandoned buildings covered in graffiti. Trash bins overflowed onto the sidewalks, and stray animals darted in and out of shadows. The streetlights flickered inconsistently, casting eerie shadows on the worn-down homes.

One particularly large piece of graffiti stood out: a massive TAK symbol painted boldly across the side of a crumbling warehouse. It was a declaration of dominance in this area, a clear message that the organization had a stronghold here.

The convoy slowed as they reached their destination: a modest, two-story house tucked at the end of a narrow street. While it wasn't as dilapidated as the other structures in the area, it bore the same signs of wear—a faded paint job, rusted metal gates, and a cracked driveway.

The driver of the lead car stepped out first, scanning the area before signaling it was clear. Two TAK members emerged from the shadows, nodding to the driver as they resumed their patrols. Tiger was helped out of the car and escorted inside the house.

The interior was simple but functional. The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, but it was clean. A small couch sat against one wall, with a wooden coffee table in front of it. The kitchen was visible through an open archway, its counters cluttered but organized.

The driver led Tiger up a narrow staircase to a small bedroom. A single bed with a clean, albeit faded, blanket sat in the corner. A wooden dresser stood by the wall, and a window offered a view of the dark, quiet street below.

"This is where you'll stay," the driver said, his voice gruff. "There's water and food downstairs if you need it. Get some rest. You'll be safe here."

Tiger didn't respond. He sat heavily on the bed, his body aching and his mind still spinning. As the door closed behind him, he exhaled slowly, lying back on the mattress. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of activity outside.

For the first time in hours, Tiger allowed his eyes to close. His thoughts were tangled, and his body was battered, but for now, he let himself drift into a restless sleep, unsure of what the next day would bring.

The next morning, Tiger stirred awake, his body still aching from the previous night's ordeal. Sunlight filtered through the cracked blinds, and the distant hum of activity outside reminded him he wasn't at home. He sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath before heading downstairs.

As he descended, he spotted Felix lounging on a worn armchair, sipping a cup of coffee. Beside him, standing by the window with her arms crossed, was a woman.

She looked to be in her 40s, with sharp, angular features that gave her an air of authority. Her jet-black hair was neatly tied back into a low bun, streaked lightly with silver strands that only added to her commanding presence. Her dark eyes scanned the streets beyond the window with a keen intensity, as though she were always assessing, always planning. She wore a tailored black jacket over a simple shirt and pants, her posture calm but poised. There was something about her—a quiet, powerful aura that made it clear she was someone important.

"Good morning," Felix said, gesturing to an empty chair across from him. "Feeling better?"

Before Tiger could respond, the woman turned from the window and faced him. "Nice to meet you," she said, her voice smooth but firm, carrying a tone that demanded respect. "My name is Kiara." She extended a hand, which Tiger shook cautiously. Her grip was strong, her movements deliberate.

"I came to visit you personally," Kiara continued, stepping closer. "We've heard about your strength and resilience. To survive an attack like that, with no inner to draw on? It's no small feat."

Tiger remained silent, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her.

Kiara smirked faintly, sensing his hesitation. "Felix has already told you who we are—what TAK stands for. But what you need to understand is that we're more than just an underground organization. We're a movement. A revolution against the corruption of the agency."

Felix chimed in, setting his coffee down. "We've been watching them for years, Tiger. We know their dirty secrets, their betrayals. You've seen it yourself now—how far they'll go to protect their precious power."

Kiara nodded, stepping closer to him. "Which is why we need you. Someone with your strength, your knowledge, your experience. You've seen the rot within the agency firsthand. You know what we're fighting for. We need people like you to help us expose them and bring them down for good."

Tiger crossed his arms, leaning back slightly against the wall. "I've barely had time to think about this," he said cautiously. "Everything happened so fast."

"I understand," Kiara said, her tone softening slightly. "But time isn't on our side. You know as well as I do that the agency won't stop until you're silenced. They've already sent TOHMS after you once. Do you really think you can outrun them alone?"

Felix leaned forward, his eyes serious. "Think about it, Tiger. With us, you'll not only have protection—you'll have the chance to fight back. To make them pay for what they've done."

Kiara's gaze remained locked on Tiger's, her voice low but compelling. "So tell me. After everything you've been through, after what you've seen—are you ready to make your decision?"

Tiger stood there for a moment, his arms crossed, his jaw tightening as he processed everything. The memories of the attack, the betrayal he had overheard, and the overwhelming realization that the agency had marked him for death all swirled in his mind.

Finally, he looked up, his eyes sharp and resolute.

"I'll join," he said, his voice steady but laced with anger. "Fuck the agency."

Felix grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Now that's what I like to hear."

Kiara gave a faint smile, but there was something deeper in her gaze—satisfaction, yes, but also a hint of calculation. "Good. You've made the right choice, Tiger. This is the beginning of something much bigger than any of us."

Tiger clenched his fists. "I don't care how big it is. I'm in this for revenge. If they want a war, I'll give them one."

Felix stood, clapping a hand on Tiger's shoulder. "And we'll make sure you're ready for it. Welcome to TAK."

Kiara turned back toward the window, her voice calm but purposeful. "Good. Now that you're with us, we'll start putting together a plan. The agency won't see what's coming."

Tiger nodded, his mind already set on the battles ahead. This wasn't just survival anymore—this was war.