The place Mitch told them to go was in a part of the city that time had forgotten. It was a neighborhood of quiet sadness, where businesses that had failed long ago sat empty and the people who lived there kept to themselves, trying not to be noticed. The "A-Plus Storage" facility fit right in. It was a long, single-story building the color of old sand. A fence of sharp, coiled razor wire ran along the top of its chain-link fence, and a single security light buzzed and flickered, casting a weak, yellowish glow on the endless rows of identical metal garage doors.

It was, they all realized, the ideal spot to hide something you never wanted found.

They walked toward it with the extreme caution of troops in a combat zone. Their nerves were on edge, and every sound put them on alert. A car driving in the distance could be full of Ramos's men. A dark shape in an alley might be a thug waiting to ambush them. Their destination was a fire hydrant on the street corner, painted a rusty red. To anyone else, it was just a piece of street furniture. To them, it was a landmark.

As a distraction, Silva leaned his large body against the hydrant, looking casual. At the same time, Ace dropped to one knee, pretending to fix his shoelace. His fingers felt along the grimy, cold metal at the bottom of the hydrant until they touched a small, flat box held on by a magnet. He pried it off. Inside was a single, slightly tarnished silver key.

No one said a word as they walked back to the storage facility. The only sound was the faint jingle of the key shaking in Ace's nervous hand. They found Unit 114, one in a long line of units that all looked exactly the same. Ace pushed the key into the heavy padlock. It turned with a clean, loud clunk that seemed to echo in the quiet night.

He grabbed the cold metal handle of the storage door, took a deep breath, and pulled upwards. The door rattled noisily as it rose, revealing a dark space inside. A smell drifted out—the scent of dust, old cardboard boxes, and the faint, sweet odor of mothballs, used to keep bugs away.

A lone, bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, its little pull-chain dangling. Ace reached in and gave it a tug. A dim, yellow light clicked on, slowly revealing what was in the locker.

The space wasn't big, maybe only as wide and deep as a small bathroom. And it wasn't packed full. This was the first thing Ace noticed, and it told him everything. This wasn't a treasure chest filled with riches. It was a survival kit, a lifeboat. Every single item inside had been chosen for one reason: to help someone disappear and stay alive.

In the middle of the empty floor sat one large, black duffel bag. It was scuffed and worn, but it looked tough—the kind of bag built for long, hard journeys. It looked heavy.

Silva was the first to step into the locker, his large body making the space feel even smaller. He gently nudged the bag with his foot. "Alright," he said. "Let's see what the going rate is for saving a man's life."

Ace knelt and unzipped the main compartment. Everything inside was packed with neat, military-like precision. On top was a stack of clothes: four sets of simple, dark-colored jeans, plain t-shirts, and hoodies, each in a different size. Underneath those were basic supplies—new toothbrushes, bars of soap, and a small first-aid kit.

"Clean clothes. Thank God," Evelyn whispered, her fingers gently touching a soft cotton shirt. After wearing the same dirty clothes for days, it felt like a miracle.

But the next discoveries showed them the true value of what Mitch had given them. Silva reached into a side pocket and pulled out a thick stack of money. It wasn't the millions they had stolen from Ramos, but it was more cash than any of them had seen in a very long time. Silva counted it quietly, his lips moving.

"Five thousand dollars," he said, his voice low and respectful. "All in used bills. Can't be traced."

It was a strange amount—both a small fortune and not enough at the same time. It wouldn't buy them a new future, but it would buy them what they needed most: time. It would pay for food, a cheap room, and the ability to stay hidden.

Next, Kaito found a small case. Inside were four sets of fake IDs: driver's licenses and social security cards. The photos were of them, but the names were all different—John Miller, David Miller, Sarah Miller, Amy Miller. The addresses listed were for a mail drop in another state. They weren't perfect fakes, but they were good enough to rent a motel room or avoid casual police checks. They were now ghosts with official-looking papers.

"Miller," Evelyn said, staring at the card with her photo but a stranger's name. "He really did think of everything."

But the find that took Kaito's breath away was at the very bottom of the bag. Wrapped carefully in a soft cloth was a laptop computer. It wasn't the latest model, but it was clean. It had no history, no tracking software, no connection to their old lives. It was a blank canvas, a tool that would let them back into the digital world they had been cut off from.

"He even included a charger," Kaito said, his voice choked with emotion. He held the computer as gently as if it were a baby. "It has a fast hard drive and basic security software already installed. It's... it's a beginning."

Finally, Ace found the note. It was tucked into a small mesh pocket inside the duffel bag's lid, written on a simple piece of lined paper. The handwriting was careful and clear.

The clothes are plain and won't stand out. The money is clean and can't be traced back to you. The fake IDs will work for things like motels, but not for an airport. The laptop is untraceable; only use public Wi-Fi and never in the same place twice. This is a bug-out bag. It's not for building a new life. It's for surviving. It was my own escape plan. The debt is paid. Do not contact me again. - M

Ace read the note out loud, his voice calm. When he finished, a deep silence filled the small storage locker. The finality of Mitch's words—The debt is paid—hung in the air. This wasn't a generous gift from a friend. It was a cold, hard transaction, the repayment of a life saved, delivered with brutal honesty. He had given them everything he had set aside for his own survival.

For the first time since Ramos's men had destroyed their home at the cannery, a real, heartfelt smile broke out on Silva's face. It wasn't forced or bitter. He held the stack of money tightly in his hand. "We're not broke anymore," he said, the relief clear in his voice. "We're not sleeping on the street. Not tonight."

Evelyn held the pile of clean clothes against her chest like a precious treasure, closing her eyes as if saying a silent 'thank you.' "We can get a motel room," she whispered. "A real room with a door that locks from the inside. We can finally take a shower."

Kaito didn't waste a moment. He found a dusty electrical outlet in the locker and plugged in the laptop charger. As the computer started up, his fingers flew across the keyboard. The familiar blue-white light from the screen lit up his face, erasing some of the fear and exhaustion and replacing it with a look of intense concentration. "I can start creating a basic security system for us," he said. "And we can go online. We can find out what's really going on in the city."

Ace felt a heavy pressure in his chest ease up, just a little. They had hit rock bottom, but now they had managed to climb up one single, important step. The money meant they could eat. The fake IDs meant they could disappear into a crowd. The laptop meant they were no longer cut off from the world, blind to the dangers around them.

"It might not seem like a lot," Ace said, repeating the sentiment from Mitch's note. "But right now, it's everything we need."

They acted quickly. Right there in the storage locker, they changed into the new clothes. The simple act of pulling on a fresh, soft t-shirt felt incredible, like being reborn. They carefully split the cash between them, so if one person lost their share, they wouldn't lose all their money. Silva lifted the duffel bag, now filled with their old, dirty clothes and the rest of their supplies, onto his shoulder.

They left the storage unit behind, locking it up and placing the key back in its hiding spot under the fire hydrant. They were like ghosts now, and ghosts couldn't afford to be tied down to any one place.

About an hour later, they were standing under the flickering pink and blue neon light of a motel sign that said "The Starlight Inn." It was a little nicer than the terrible Nite Owl Motel where Ace had started, but it was still the kind of place that didn't ask for your life story. The man at the front desk, who looked bored as he watched a small TV, barely glanced at the "John Miller" driver's license Ace gave him, or at the cash Ace used to pay for the room.

The room itself was plain and impersonal: two beds with old-fashioned flower-patterned covers, a dusty painting of a boat on the wall, and the faint smell of cleaning products. But to the four of them, it was a five-star hotel. It had a door they could lock, a solid roof over their heads, and a private bathroom.

The sound of the shower turning on was like beautiful music to their ears. Evelyn showered first. When she came out, her hair was wet and her skin was flushed and clean from being scrubbed. Wrapped in a thin motel towel, she looked more like her old self than she had in days.

While the others took their turns showering, Ace stood by the window, carefully looking through a narrow gap in the curtains at the quiet street outside. The simple act of being in a safe, stable place seemed to recharge his internal System, and messages began to appear in his mind:

<<<>>>

STATUS UPDATE: SECURE SHELTER ACQUIRED. BASIC NEEDS MET.

- NANITE SWARM POWER: 18% AND INCREASING.

- NEW MAIN GOAL: COLLECT INFORMATION. EVALUATE THREATS.

- RECOMMENDATION: USE THE NEW LAPTOP TO UNDERSTAND THE CURRENT SITUATION IN THE CITY.

<<<>>>

On one of the beds, Kaito was already bent over the laptop, his forehead wrinkled in focus. He had connected to the internet by secretly using the public Wi-Fi from a library a mile away, making it hard for anyone to trace them. His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard.

"Okay," Kaito said, his voice quiet but serious. "I'm connected. Let's see what the official news is saying."

He opened local news websites. The headlines were dramatic but careful: "Gang Violence Erupts in Docklands," "Police Promise Action After Rail Yard Battle," "City Living in Fear." The reports never mentioned Victor Ramos or Vincenzo by name, only talking about "rival criminal groups." The official story was that the city was experiencing a wave of senseless violence.

Then, Kaito went deeper. He accessed hidden online forums and encrypted chat rooms where members of the criminal underworld talked. Here, the story was much clearer, and much more frightening.

"The rumor is that Ramos is wounded," Kaito explained, reading the text scrolling on his screen. "Not a physical injury, but his reputation is hurt. He lost a lot of his men and an important location at the rail yard. People are saying he's hiding, that he's weak."

"And Vincenzo?" Silva asked, rubbing his hair with a towel.

"Vincenzo is bragging," Kaito said. "He's acting like he won a huge victory. But his group also suffered heavy losses. The police are investigating all his usual business spots now. He's strong, but he's also under a spotlight." Kaito looked up at Ace, his face serious. "It's just like you predicted. A stalemate. Both of these dangerous men are hurt, but neither one is finished."

Ace nodded. This was the best they could have hoped for. The city was tense and quiet, like it was waiting for the next disaster. And in that nervous silence, four people with some cash, fake names, and a single laptop had a chance to change their role. They were no longer just victims trying to survive. They were becoming watchers. They were becoming strategists on the edges of the conflict, slowly rebuilding their strength.

As the others finally relaxed in the unbelievable comfort of clean sheets and temporary safety, Ace stayed by the window. Mitch's debt had been paid, but that act had given them a new responsibility—a debt to themselves. They had been handed the tools for a fresh start. They couldn't let this chance slip away.

The night outside was still dark, but for the first time in what felt like forever, the darkness felt full of potential, not just fear. They had reached the lowest point and found, not a rescuer, but a carefully prepared bag from a man who knew exactly what a second chance was worth. It was sufficient. For now, it was everything they needed.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.