Dawn of the third day.

Alarm set to 6 am. Not that it was necessary, both of them were up already.

One hour is all it takes for them to finish with their morning routines.

Samuel had combat boots, black jeans, and a plain white shirt. He also had a gray beret and a trench coat with an interesting design on its back: a white circle that had some of its white bleeding down, as if it was wet ink.

Jane had virtually the same colors except she had sweatpants, running shoes, and a skin tight shirt. Also, sunglasses instead of a trench coat and a cap instead of a beret.

“Since when did you become a fan of those kinds of shirts?”

“Cause I like my melons big.” She emphasizes her words by squeezing her breasts together, to her friend’s eternal chagrin. Pink tints his cheeks and annoyance blends into his visage as he looks the other way.

“I miss when you used to hate the idea of acting like this.”

“Well, I don’t.” She nudges his arm. “And don’t lie, I know you love watching me.”

Her life-long friend gestures a forced puke, pleased at the idea of regurgitating whatever he had for dinner last night. She laughs victoriously.

“I feel bad for whoever dates you.” He jabs her verbally.

“Shut up, I’m adorable.” She scoffs.

Their banter goes on as they wait for their ride to arrive.

...

Over an hour later, they reach their destination: the outskirts of town. And then, they take another forty minute walk into the seeming middle of nowhere.

It stops being that once they spot the very familiar building ahead: a simple aluminum construct with torn curtains hiding the inside.

They were the first ones to arrive after Deck himself, who was watching... adult content on his phone. The moans were the dead giveaway, even if his screen couldn’t be seen.

Spotting the pair, he locks his phone, not at all phased by the fact they just caught him red-handed. Definitely not the first time, judging by their uninterested expressions.

“Yo, Deck.” The older of the duo greets his acquaintance without flair.

“You two are early.” He mentions while scratching his unkempt hair. “The meeting is starting in fifteen or so minutes.”

“Early?” Jane is the one to ask. “Aren’t we the only ones you called?”

“Not this time, pretty thing.” He locks eyes with her, who hides her now more apparent disgust. “I got some big news and I called my most trusted contacts for this so take a seat and wait a bit.”

The discomfort she felt when near that man was well hidden. Even if her friend knew, there wasn’t much else they could do other than be polite and get it over with.

On edge, she refuses to leave Samuel’s side or sit down. Speaking of sitting down, the scenery around them was less than mediocre.

A broken TV, a worn out couch, a dirty fan, and a stained carpet were what that thing had going for it. Holes in the ceiling filled the inside with sunlight. It was clearly abandoned, rarely used, and somehow off of the city’s radar.

Perfect hideout energy.

When the appointed time comes, three other heads can be seen peeking through the entrance. Heads belonging to varying bodies.

One of them and the first to enter was a tall, muscular man wearing camo pants and a tank top. His mohawk definitely stuck him out like a sore thumb. He couldn’t be older than 30.

Following suit was a comically short girl with hair dyed a bright yellow. She wore robes that were tied to her with ropes. Anyone could mistake her for a teenager, if not a child.

The last of the bunch was a taller than average redhead with freckles. She wasn’t what the beauty standards accepted as ideal but her toned body gave her own beauty.

She also wore movement-oriented clothes: skin tight pants, running shoes, and just her sports bra, no shirt. Her hair was also kept in a ponytail.

At the sight of all these individuals, Samuel silently judges Deck with a glare, who shrugs at him.

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“Welcome,” he greets the new faces. “Took y’all long enough.”

“Try not setting up meetings in the middle of nowhere.” The male of the three speaks with an odd accent and a surprisingly high-pitched voice. He wasn’t from around.

“This is my spot, man. C’mon.”

“You call this your spot?” The smallest in the room comments with rudeness embedding her words. “Ew.”

“Better than his other places, that’s for sure.” Jane delivers a backhanded comment, which gains a snicker from the unnatural blonde.

The redhead is the only one who says nothing.

“J, Syndrome,” Deck starts. “Meet Hawk, Bloom, and Crimson.”

“J? Syndrome?” Hawk, the mohawk outsider, says. “What kind of aliases are those?”

“The kinds that we use, Hawk.” Jane says in a mocking tone. “Not very subtle with yours, not gonna lie.”

“It has style.” He says with a proud grin. Samuel raises an eyebrow in amusement. He had confidence, if anything.

“By the way, nice get up, shortie.” Bloom, the blonde, half compliments, half insults the young male, who snickers.

“You’re one to talk.”

“I’m a girl, me being short is whatever.” She eyes him from top to bottom. “You sure you don’t wanna stretch some?”

“I’d enjoy it if you did the honors.” His smirk never left his face, the amusement he had in witnessing such boldness coming from someone so small too great. He then diverts his sight to the yet-to-speak freckled face, who greets him with a plain, polite smile.

“Well,” Deck interrupts them. “I see you lot got to know each other nice and well so I think I’ll be starting.”

With that information, everyone takes their respective corners. Jane and Samuel stick together near the middle while each of the three new faces hug a different wall, far and away from one another.

“First things first, I wanna let y’all know that nothing you ever did up until now tops this.”

“And there it is.” Hawk comments. “You and your blowing things out of proportion thing.”

“Nothing,” Deck repeats. “Tops this.”

“Don’t beat around the bush then.” Samuel says, knowing well how he could drag on if you let him.”What are we after?”

To answer that question, the host of the meeting drags a stand holding a pinboard. Pinned to it was a big sheet of paper with blueprints on its upper left edge. Surrounding it were various writings and on the bottom right was what seemed like the drawing of a generic pill.

“The heist of the century, Syndrome.”

The aforementioned man sighs while rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What is this?” He asks in an annoyed tone.

The others present either don’t notice or don’t care about his reaction.

“Sit and listen, man, you’re gonna love this.”

“Like I loved your last big scheme?”

“I wasn’t well in the head back then, give me a break.”

“Oh,” he exasperates. “So now you’re good?” Looking to the side, he becomes tempted to leave.

Something was off about his behavior and Jane picked on it but chose to not say anything.

Talking for the first time, Crimson asks. “What’s wrong?”

Too annoyed to be surprised at her first words spoken, Samuel simply answers. “This nut head gave me a ‘big gig’ that nearly cost me my arm. You know what I was after? Nothing.”

“Just because you didn’t find it, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.” Deck defends himself.

“I searched every box, every crack of that place.” He glares back at him. “I had to spend three days in the low to find an opening and escape. I almost died.”

“And you’re a real trooper for that.”

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, the trench coat-wearing male tries to not think too much about it.

“Anyway,” Deck continues. “This is gonna be the end-all to our problems. After this, we’ll never have to lift a finger again.”

The three new faces were persuaded by the prospect of being filthy rich, each reacting their own way. Our known duo, not so much.

Especially considering who those words were coming from.

Deck clears his throat before continuing. “Have any of you ever heard of ‘Project: Trigger?’”

The five heads look among themselves before shaking their heads in varying intervals.

“That means those bastards have been doing a good job.”

“Who?” Jane asks.

...

Somewhere, at an unspecified location.

A small group of clearly overworked scientists were either tweaking with the contents of beakers or looking into computer monitors.

The place was well-lit and had a cold temperature, not ideal for who had to stay inside for hours on end.

From the prying eyes of cameras, a businessman-looking individual and a military official stare at their every move.

“How long until this is finished?” The official asks.

“Three months.”

“Do you really think we can keep this under the government’s nose for three more months?” He asks dangerously, to which the businessman is unfazed.

“Rumors have been spreading as far back as two years ago and I did a good job silencing the sources.” He then glares at his company. “I’m still trying to figure out who has been leaking all this in the first place though.”

Reaching for something in his waist, the official approaches his newfound target. “Is this a threat?”

Raising an eyebrow, the businessman scoffs. “Is your old age finally catching up?”

“I think we’re gonna have to find out.”

“Not today though.” The businessman finishes, not faltering. “We have more important business to attend to. We need to stabilize the effects of the drug if we want to proceed with our tests.”

Deciding to drop the subject, the official looks at a monitor. It showed a camera moving back and forth while watching over a big glass container. Inside, several pills marinated on a strange translucent liquid.

On another monitor, a colorless room where a teenager wearing tattered rags laid on the floor, motionless.