"We… we were just asked to deliver!"

"Hm."

Adam didn't say anything. He just stared into the open trailer in front of him, a complete contrast to the two truckers behind him, who were trembling like little children caught stealing.

Their breathing came in short, panicked bursts as they watched Adam survey the cargo—how could they not, when the eggs were right there? Everything they had inside the trailer was about to be gone.

But of course, that wasn't the only reason for their panic. Moving monsters outside official channels was federal crime territory, punishable by decades in prison or worse.

They were similar to scavengers in a way. Both benefiting from the side effects and aftermaths of the Game—but of course, scavengers are public sector.

And these truckers were neither from the IBAA nor working for any form of government. They were smugglers. And here they were, caught red-handed by someone who was capable of killing their very cargo.

"P-please," the first trucker stammered, his voice cracking. "Don't... don't destroy them. We got families, boy. Kids. The people we're working for… they'll kill us!"

"Yeah," the second added quickly. "They… they're going to kill you too!"

"Man, shut the fuck up!" The first trucker slapped his friend's stomach with the back of his hand.

Adam wasn't listening to their pleas, however, as he stepped into the trailer, his boots crunching on the scattered dried leaves.

"I have no plan to destroy them," he spoke without turning to them.

Both men sagged with relief, but their reprieve lasted only seconds.

"You need to return them where you got them. It's the Leak owned by the Nightraptor guild, right?"

"What?!" The first trucker's voice shot up an octave. "Are you insane? We can't go back there! They'll arrest us on sight!"

"T-the IBAA don't mess around with smugglers," the second trucker added, wiping sweat from his forehead. "They'll throw us in a hole and forget we exist."

"Well…" Adam finally turned to face them, sighing as his hand caressed the bent bar of one of the cages.

These monsters, they're you, Adam. Stupid, acting on instinct… caged and played by fate. But most importantly, monsters.

"The way I see it, you have two choices," Adam continued. "Surrender here, where the local police and the people of this town will probably tear you apart for bringing monsters into their home."

He gestured toward the carnage in the street, where verdleck blood still painted the pavement, and the smugglers couldn't help but just swallow the mucus and saliva stuck inside their throats.

"Or…" Adam whispered. "Return these eggs, and drive back to the Leak and surrender to the IBAA official representative there."

"That's… that's not much of a choice," the first trucker muttered.

"We… we can't go back there! Please… just let us go! You don't understand, boy. We work for some dangerous people!"

"Well…" Adam sighed.

"…At least you get to choose how you die."

***

Hours later, the truck rumbled along the highway… with Adam wedged between the two smugglers in the cab. Most of the townspeople wanted to speak and thank Adam, but he left before any of them could do so.

It also helped that the pastor of the Church of Administrator prevented anyone from approaching him. Perhaps… they weren't as indoctrinated as he thought they were.

…Or perhaps that just proved that they were, since the pastor was still treating him like some sort of idol to be followed.

The smugglers, with how close they were to Adam, could hear him quietly rambling to himself. Neither of them, however, dared to breathe too loudly, afraid that they might interrupt whatever thoughts he was having.

Adam sighed and gazed out the passenger window at the passing landscape. Rolling hills and scattered farmhouses blurred past, reminding him of those long bus rides with Jefferson's scavenging crew.

Back when his biggest worry was whether they'd find enough salvage to make the day worthwhile, aside from the Hospital, that is. Derek would be cracking jokes about now, probably making fun of someone's lunch. Hans would be asking too many questions, trying too hard to fit in.

Hans, or rather, Hannah. She should be alive out there somewhere, still working as a scavenger, searching for her father's memento.

You think she—

The truck hit a pothole, jarring him from his thoughts. And even though it wasn't their fault at all, the smugglers couldn't help but become even quieter.

In fact, the one in the passenger seat passed out from not realizing he wasn't breathing at all. And it was only when he woke up again several hours later that he realized what had just happened.

He opened his eyes, and the truck was stopped… but Adam and his friend were not in the cab with them.

His first thought was Adam killed him, but then he screamed when he heard the door on the driver's side open.

"W-what the?!" He almost threw himself toward the door on his side, hugging it and only relaxing when he saw his friend getting in.

"W-where's the vet?!" he asked. "Is… is he gone? Are we free to go?!"

"No…" The driver shook his head. "He's… he's watching us from somewhere. We need to hurry up."

And with those words, he started the truck and continued to drive. Before the second trucker could even say another word, he caught a glimpse of the Nightraptor Guild's encampment in the distance—large tents surrounding the shimmering anomaly of the Blue-level Leak.

And true to his words, Adam truly was watching them. He found a rocky outcropping that provided perfect cover for him and his bicycle while keeping the camp in full view. He was crouched behind the stones, watching as the guild members flagged down the approaching truck.

Even from this distance, it was obvious what was happening—the people responsible for watching and guarding the camp were confused at first, but when the smugglers started talking, their looks of confusion turned into shock. Vincent, the leader of the guild, was there too.

Several guild members rushed to the back of the truck along with Vincent, and moments later, shouts erupted from the trailer.

The smugglers were quickly surrounded, hands zip-tied behind their backs as guild members secured the egg crates.

And soon, a figure in IBAA uniform approached—crisp blue and white, official patches gleaming in the afternoon sun. The official herded the smugglers toward a large command tent while other guild members dealt with the eggs.

Adam was about to mount his bicycle and leave when something made him pause. The IBAA representative had gone into the tent alone with the smugglers, even stopping Vincent from entering with them.

Adam knew it wasn't his business… but a nagging thought wormed its way into his mind.

What now, Adam? Ever since the Game, you've been… unnecessarily nosy.

With a frustrated sigh, he dismounted his bike and crept toward the camp. His plain, dirty, and bloodied clothes worked in his favor—he looked like any other veteran there. Well, he did belong there.

In fact, someone even recognized him from the crowd—Rick.

"Chris?" he called for Adam. But since he was still calling Adam by the fake name he gave the guild, he didn't respond at all.

"Huh…" Rick raised an eyebrow as he watched Adam move awkwardly across the camp. "…I thought he left. Is he here to cash out some of his loot instead? Chris!"

He called for Adam again, but Adam had already disappeared deeper into the camp. And soon, Adam was right beside the tent where the IBAA representative took the smugglers.

"...told you to be more careful." He heard a gravelly voice coming from the inside. "You had enough gas to make it to the drop-off. What were you doing in some shithole?!"

"We… we were just trying to rest for a bit!" one of the smugglers replied. "Someone broke the lock! Jerry, please—don't tell them!"

Jerry? Is that the name of the IBAA official?

"Don't tell them?! They already know!" Jerry snapped. "It's all over the news, and they've been calling me non-stop since it happened! We're fucked! Someone needs to pay for this, and it won't be me!"

"Please, Jerry! Just… just let us repay…"

Adam closed his eyes and sank back against the tent wall as he continued to listen to their conversation.

Another person corrupted by greed, Adam. This isn't any of your concern anymore—you've done your part, now it's time to let someone else handle this.

Adam stood up and was about to leave, but he heard Jerry say something that caused his blood to boil.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to go back to that shithole, and salvage whatever parts you can and deliver it to them," he said. "Maybe we're going to get away with them only slicing off a few fingers. I'll find a way to slip you two out of here tonight. I'll hold off the IBAA."

They're… going back to the town? They're… going to put the people in danger again?

He stood slowly, rage building in his chest. He needed to report this to someone in the guild, but who could he trust? If Jerry was corrupt, others might be as well.

That meant there was only a single thing left to do here.

Now what, Adam?

Adam walked away from the tent and stared at the Blue Leak—its surface rippling like disturbed water, casting light across his face.

He looked around, and since Vincent was in the camp, then that meant that no one was exploring the Leak.

If he closed the Leak… that means all of this stops, right?

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