My seniors quickly grasped the situation.

Riccardo looked down at the back of his hand and swore in a language I didn't recognize. I couldn't understand it, but it was definitely a curse. Beside him, Achille looked down at his own hand, his eyes widening.

Bobby panicked at the sight of hers.

"Huh?"

She frantically wiped the blood away, as though she couldn't believe she was still bleeding.

"Huh? Why isn't it healing? Huh?"

"Fucking hell..."

Riccardo rolled his eyes skyward. After staring up at the sky to rein in his anger, he opened and closed the hand beaded with blood.

"All my strength's gone, too... They got us, just like that..."

"Other than being back to ordinary bodies, you're all feeling all right, aren't you?"

"We weren't even hit with drug rounds. How can we be this weak?"

Deathly pale, Bobby looked at Riccardo.

No one answered my question. Achille's face was rigid, too. They were stunned by the unexpected turn of events. A heavy atmosphere settled over the area, now even more deserted.

Bobby broke the silence laden with shock and anger.

"There's no way the Mafia has Green Dream this potent!"

Apparently, some versions of Green Dream were more potent than others.

The two men frowned without answering. I frowned slightly myself as I watched my shaken seniors. Naturally, Mari, who had personally handed us our corn dogs, was nowhere to be seen.

But that didn't matter anymore. Frankly, I couldn't care less where Mari was right now. I didn't know who she was or why she'd done this, but we needed to put that aside and figure out what to do first.

Should we report this?

Just as I had the thought, Achille pulled out his phone.

"I'll report to headquarters."

But things didn't go smoothly. He hadn't adjusted to the change in his grip strength. Both taking out his phone and using it took time. Watching him tap the screen far too gently, I reached into my pocket.

"Sir, I'll make the call."

"You're fine?"

Bobby stared at me, wide-eyed.

"Why are you fine?"

BANG!

I had my phone out and was turning to answer her when a bullet shattered it in my hand. The fragments scattered across the ground.

"What the hell?"

"Oh my God!"

After smashing through my phone, the bullet buried itself in the ground. Bobby screamed and stumbled back; it had nearly pierced the top of her foot.

"What the hell is this now?"

The answer came quickly. People who were clearly Mafia emerged from behind the food trucks, guns trained on us. They approached with weapons in hand and formed a ring around us. The gangsters' pistols and knives reflected the lights.

Ha...

This had gone completely sideways.

Those without weapons were filming the scene on their phones. Riccardo heaved a sigh and thrust his hands into his pockets.

"Enjoying your evening?"

The gangsters pressed their gun muzzles to our temples. I felt the cold metal against mine and narrowed my eyes without moving. My seniors stood perfectly still, too, only their eyes moving.

Riccardo radiated irritation. Achille surveyed the situation with cold fury in his eyes. Bobby was a little stiff, but she held her chin high and looked down at the gangsters. The criminals grinned triumphantly at them.

My roaming gaze settled on the phones in their hands.

They'd got us.

I couldn't see an immediate way out. Green Dream didn't seem to work on me, but with guns pressed to my seniors' heads now that they were ordinary people... I couldn't make a rash move. There wasn't just one hostage, but three.

And then there was the video. They were probably trying to exploit the rule that Black Badgers must never lay a hand on civilians.

Whose plan was this? Who had devised such a meticulous scheme to corner us? Just as I sharpened my senses to find the answer, a voice rang out.

"Good to see you all again. It's been a while."

Satisfaction suffused the voice. My seniors and I looked toward it and saw a man strolling out of the building where the matches were being held.

He looked like some sort of enforcer captain. Shoulder-length curls, both hands shoved into his pockets, a languid gait. He walked between the underlings aiming at Riccardo's and Achille's heads, then smiled more broadly at my seniors' icy stares.

"Sordi, Fisker, and Winter, too. Not one of you has changed since last time. All three of you."

"Mick."

Achille spoke quietly, his voice tight with suppressed anger.

"What the hell is all this?"

Mick's smile lit up. Beaming, he threw both arms into the air.

"Our plot to put you in the arena is working!"

Things just kept getting worse.

My seniors' faces twisted as they understood him. Mine did, too. It wasn't hard to figure out. Hadn't we been watching the matches ourselves just minutes ago?

Riccardo let out a long sigh.

"What a stupid thing to do..."

"How is this stupid? The audience is going to go wild!"

Mick seemed excited.

"The arena's going to be hotter than ever! The Badgers who always raid the matches with the police, fighting in the arena themselves! And as ordinary people, no less! What a sensational setup! We're going to make a fucking fortune!"

"Speaking of which, where are the police?"

Mick's exuberant stomping and speech suddenly prompted Bobby's question. Wide-eyed, she scanned the seemingly deserted wasteland.

"Where have all the cops gone?"

Were they in on it? Or had they fallen into the same trap as us?

Achille and Bobby's eyes darted about in search of the police. The gangsters burst out laughing at the sight, their mocking laughter echoing across the bleak wasteland.

Beside Riccardo, who stood motionless staring up at the sky, Achille and Bobby went rigid with anger. Watching them, Mick threw his arms up again and announced in an affected voice,

"The police have withdrawn on orders from above!"

The elaborate piercings in Mick's ears jangled noisily.

"A young police officer came to deliver the order!"

I saw Achille stiffen. His blue eyes widened, the emotion in them shifting from surprise to suspicion and anger. It was a strangely excessive reaction.

He seemed to have reacted to the words "a young police officer."

Why did those words get to him so much?

Of course, now wasn't the time to pursue questions. Especially since the woman aiming at my temple sharply broke the silence.

"Mick. The Green Dream didn't work properly on this one."

Mick froze in place, still beaming. His eyes turned slowly toward my face, and I met them steadily. Those eyes held twisted values and cruelty. He stared at me with his smile fixed in place, then spoke.

"Why?"

"How the hell should I know? I'm telling you, the Green Dream didn't work properly on him."

As she answered, the woman drew a knife with her free hand. It was a short jackknife. She deftly flicked it open and slashed my forearm.

"Look."

Red blood welled along the knife's path. Everyone's gaze snapped to my forearm. My seniors looked over at it, too. After shedding a little red blood, the wound slowly closed. It healed more slowly than a Badger's would, but much faster than an ordinary person's.

Mick wiped the smile off his face.

"You're right."

He lowered his raised arms.

"Why's that? Didn't he get the right dose of Green Dream?"

"No. Remember what we were told? That Green Dream is so potent that just getting it through the skin would make it as effective as a drug round."

The woman put away her knife as she argued.

"It won't be the amount. That idiot probably didn't get the needle far enough into this one."

"Fuck. Don't we have any more?"

Mick muttered without taking his eyes off my arm.

"Didn't they leave any behind?"

Who were they talking about? Mari? I narrowed my eyes, recalling the person I'd briefly pushed to the back of my mind. The high school girl with the bizarre tastes. The very person who'd injected us with Green Dream.

I'd thought she was one of them, but judging by the way they were talking, that didn't seem to be the case.

The woman answered irritably.

"No."

"Hmm! Fuck! What do we do about this, then?"

Mick swore crudely to himself. I watched him rake his hands through his black hair, then shrug in irritation.

"Should we just pump him full of narcotics?"

There was still no opening. The gangsters showed no intention of taking their guns away from my seniors' temples. They didn't seem to be planning to kill us immediately, so I'd have to come up with a way out while they took us to the arena.

I tuned out Mick's back-and-forth with the gangsters and thought.

They'd put my now-ordinary seniors in the arena to fight creatures. They'd probably take us up that elevator to wherever they were holding the illegal transplant recipients. Wouldn't there be an opportunity to fight back along the way? As the situation kept changing, when they let their guard slip a little.

I could wait for that moment...

"All right! Bring plenty of narcotics!"

"Can't we kill that bastard?"

Just as Mick finally made his decision and gave an order to an underling, one of the gangsters holding a camera spoke up. Everyone turned to look. I, too, looked at the hollow-eyed man pointing at Riccardo.

"Holiday got arrested because of that fucker."

Riccardo raised an eyebrow, then stretched his lips into a smile. He stared straight at the man pointing at him and sneered with naked contempt.

A chill ran through me.

Sir. One wrong move and you're dead. Please don't look at him like that and provoke him.

Sure enough, the hollow-eyed man flared up.

"He's going to die anyway! Let's kill him ourselves, right now!"

"Hmm."

Mick stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Shall we?"

Achille and Bobby whipped their heads around. Fear clouded their eyes as they stared at Mick. In contrast, cruel delight flashed in the eyes of the pointing man and the gangsters around him. Amid it all, Riccardo merely blinked, his expression bland.

But before Mick could give the order, before Bobby and Achille could open their mouths to shout anything, I spoke first.

Calmly, I said,

"No."

Everyone turned to look at me.

"If you kill Riccardo, I'll kill you, too."

Everything froze. Silence fell, heavy with shock. They all stopped moving and stared blankly at me, eyes wide. The man pointing at Riccardo, Mick, Achille, and Bobby. Even Riccardo Sordi himself.

I ignored the surprise in Riccardo's green eyes.

"I'll kill every one of you here and bury you with your phones. So don't go pulling any triggers."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

Mick shot back. There was a twisted confidence in the way he shoved both hands into his pockets.

"You think you can kill this many people and stay sane?"

I'd even handed my sword over to humans and told them to kill my friend. Would something so trivial shake my sanity? I was scum who'd done worse and still carried on living perfectly well. I didn't voice the thoughts that rose within me.

Instead, I gave a short laugh, ignoring the woman gripping the back of my neck with a hand now tinged with fear. Ignoring my seniors' startled, rabbit-wide eyes, too.

Once the brief laugh subsided, I turned my gaze back to Mick standing before me. I gave him a faint smile.

"Why would killing my enemies break me?"

For the first time, fear entered Mick's eyes. I could feel the gangsters around us stiffening with fear, too.

If there had been one hostage, this would have been the perfect moment. What a shame that having three left me unable to move.

Concealing that small regret, I drove the point home one last time.

"Mick. Don't pull the trigger. That would only mean destruction for both sides."

The gangster raised his palms in agreement.

In the end, my seniors made it to the holding area for the illegal transplant recipients in the same condition. Powerless, but unharmed. With their wrists and ankles cuffed.

We were thrown behind bars and sneeringly told to wait our turn. Still, it was a relief. This was the best outcome I could have managed under the circumstances.

As soon as I was certain the gangsters had left, I stopped fighting to stay conscious. They'd injected me with strong narcotics, and staying awake was an ordeal. I felt sick. Dizzy, and everything was far too loud...

So sleepy...

Darkness soon engulfed my mind.