Season 1 chapter 8
The Courtyard Shootout
Kniya and Malesh sprinted blindly through the dark, narrow maintenance shafts of the Headquarters, the heavy stolen military rifles bouncing against their shoulders. Behind them, the deafening wail of the mechanical alarm sirens echoed through the walls.
Over the compound's massive public address system, General Klove's furious, panicked voice blasted through the static.
"CATCH THOSE BASTARDS!" Klove screamed over the loudspeakers. "Lock down the entire sector! I want them dead right now! I have thousands of troops in this compound, they cannot escape!"
Kniya aggressively kicked open an iron ventilation grate, and the two boys tumbled out onto the manicured grass of the rear courtyard. Instantly, three massive white searchlights snapped onto their position, blinding them.
The courtyard was crawling with security. Dozens of grey-coated soldiers were already sprinting toward them across the lawn, their rifles raised.
Malesh dropped behind a thick marble statue for cover, checking the heavy iron bolt of his weapon. His face remained completely deadpan, but his breathing was heavy.
"Kniya, give me an inventory update," Malesh ordered, ejecting a spent brass casing. "We have spent exactly four of our bullets out of the twelve we started with. We only have eight rounds left between us, and there are literally thousands of troops surrounding this building. We need to acquire more ammunition immediately, or we are going to die on this grass."
Kniya ducked as a hail of bullets shattered the top of the marble statue, showering them in white stone dust. He popped a fresh piece of mint gum into his mouth and racked his bolt.
"We don't have time to go shopping for bullets, logic-boy!" Kniya yelled over the gunfire. "Just don't miss!"
Kniya stepped out from behind the statue, leveled his rifle, and pulled the trigger. BANG! BANG! Two soldiers dropping in the front row, clutching their legs and screaming.
Malesh stepped out from the other side, firing his own weapon with cold, mechanical precision. BANG! BANG! The heavy recoil bruised his small shoulder, but he completely ignored the pain.
"Move!" Malesh yelled.
They didn't stop to fight the entire army. They laid down suppressive fire, shooting the floodlights to plunge the courtyard into darkness. In the absolute chaos, the soldiers started firing blindly at shadows. Kniya and Malesh used the confusion to sprint directly to the perimeter fence. They vaulted over the wrought-iron spikes, expending their very last bullets to blow the lock off the maintenance gate, and disappeared instantly into the thick, smoggy streets of the city.
The Safe House & The Sales Pitch
Twenty minutes later, they aggressively kicked open the door of an abandoned industrial warehouse and collapsed onto the dusty concrete floor. The distant military sirens were just a faint, annoying echo now.
Malesh leaned against a rusted iron pillar, sliding down to the floor. His expensive suit was torn and covered in soot from the ventilation shafts. Despite this, he reached up and adjusted his tie to make it perfectly straight.
"That was highly inefficient, but we survived the transaction," Malesh panted heavily, spitting a mouthful of copper-tasting grit onto the concrete.
Kniya wiped a streak of grease off his chin, laughing breathlessly. "Yeah. My idea to visit his office was a total disaster, bro. We should have just used a telephone line like actual professionals."
Malesh looked over at Kniya, his deadpan face suddenly breaking into a rare, dark smirk.
"You know, Kniya," Malesh said, dusting off his sleeves. "While we were standing in his office holding those guns, I actually formulated a secondary business plan. If he hadn't pressed that panic buzzer, I was going to pour a canister of raw crude oil all over his expensive oak desk, light it on fire with your lighter, and give him a corporate sales pitch while the room burned."
Kniya raised an eyebrow, completely confused. "A sales pitch? For what? We were there to blackmail him, you idiot."
"For the oil!" Malesh stated, completely serious. "When the desk caught fire, I was going to point at the flames and say: 'The crude oil you are seeing right now is proudly sponsored by Satta Crude Oil—a massive company that we will build in the future just to replace your sorry ass.' It would have been the perfect brand marketing, bro."
Kniya stared at him for a second before bursting into a loud, obnoxious laugh that echoed through the empty warehouse.
"Bro, I would have definitely lost it," Kniya cackled, holding his bruised ribs. "If you started talking like a door-to-door salesperson in the middle of a heavily armed extortion attempt, I would have died right there from the absurdity of it. You are a sick bastard, Malesh."
"Brand visibility is highly important in a competitive market," Malesh joked flatly, picking up his empty rifle. "Now let's go find a public phone. It is time to remind Knorwin Klove exactly who owns his soul."
The Call
Kniya didn't need to look up the number. When he was standing by the General's desk, his eyes had quickly scanned the small brass plaque on the base of the private telephone, memorizing the direct military bypass line.
They walked down the alley to a rusted iron emergency call-box standing under a flickering streetlamp. Kniya picked up the heavy receiver and punched the numbers in with a cold, steady hand.
The phone rang twice. Then, a heavy, breathless, and very angry voice answered. "Speak."
"Surprise, you fat piece of shit," Kniya said casually, leaning against the cold iron of the booth. "We successfully escaped. Are your guards enjoying the bullets we left in their chests? I hope you are ready to clean up the blood in your hallway."
There was a silence on the other end so heavy you could hear the General's teeth grinding through the receiver.
"You little shits," Klove hissed violently. "I will have your skin for my rug. I will tear you apart."
"Shut the fuck up and listen to the terms," Kniya snapped, his voice turning entirely to ice. "You had your chance to play civil. You chose to be a snake. So now, you have exactly one hour. If I do not hear the radio broadcast calling off your army in the next sixty minutes, I am leaking the files. I am completely done being patient with you."
Klove's voice was a low, hateful growl. "I will find you. I will kill you, you son of a bitch."
Malesh stepped forward and aggressively snatched the receiver right out of Kniya's hand, placing his mouth close to the microphone.
"Listen here, you bruised piece of cum," Malesh snarled, his monotone voice entirely gone. "You have our names and our faces, but you cannot do a goddamn thing about it. Why don't you take that threat and shove it right up your fat ass? We already shared the financial data with an automated contact outside the city. If we so much as trip and skin our knees on the pavement tonight, the whole world sees your bank statements."
Malesh adjusted his ruined suit jacket, his voice suddenly becoming eerily, terrifyingly professional.
"Now, fulfill the conditions of the contract. We want the stipend—80,000 credits a month for each of us. Create a private bank account and have a government servant physically deliver the passbook and the keys to a public drop-box that we will specify later. And do not play smart with us again, General. We have already started looking into the ministers above your pay grade. If we find one more scrap of dirt, we will leak everything and make sure you hang from a rope."
Malesh slammed the heavy iron receiver down, cutting the line completely dead.
The New Leverage
Klove let out a defeated, shaky breath through the receiver, sounding completely broken. "Fine... the search stops now. The private account will be ready. Just... stay the fuck away from my office."
The line went dead.
Malesh hung up the heavy iron receiver and looked at Kniya, his face completely deadpan. "Eighty thousand credits? That was a nice touch, bro. But where did that 'other ministers' bullshit come from? We don't have any real connections with the higher-ups in this government."
Kniya stepped out of the rusted booth, pulling a fresh stick of mint gum from his pocket. He popped it into his mouth and looked up at the dark, smoggy spires of the city.
"What's wrong with saying it?" Kniya replied with an arrogant smirk. "Lies are just truths that haven't happened yet. We don't have the leverage on the other ministers right now, but we are going to spend the next few years aggressively developing it. This town is built entirely on dirty secrets, Malesh. We just successfully acquired the first one."
Malesh nodded, a cold, hungry look entering his eyes. "A logical business expansion. If we are going to live in this shithole country, we might as well be the ones holding the shovel."
They walked away from the emergency booth, disappearing into the thick city fog—two eleven-year-old kids who had just successfully extorted a military General and walked away with a small fortune.