Little Istanbul was once a neighborhood famous for housing the wealthy elite of West Antapolis, particularly known for its casinos. Its tall, extravagant buildings, luxurious hotels, and brothels with the most alluring women were enough to make other districts of the city feel ashamed by comparison.

But those days of glory were long gone. A series of devastating earthquakes and unstoppable tsunamis had resulted in massive loss of life and property. The supposedly “indestructible” buildings, advertised as the safest in the world, were reduced to rubble, and more than half the district was swallowed by the sea.

Most of the victims were tourists, which led other nations to accuse the U.S. of failing to take the necessary precautions. In response, they imposed heavy sanctions on the country. Already struggling with economic hardships, the government was forced to turn a blind eye to Little Istanbul, essentially signing a death warrant for the people left behind.

“Man…” Leo said, bringing the car to a stop. “This place is… weird.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It is.”

Since the natural disasters, a thick, eerie fog had settled over Little Istanbul, and it had never lifted. The atmosphere here was unsettling, like something out of a nightmare. It felt like any moment, a monster might leap out from the shadows of the dense trees, or a giant snake might slither through the tall grass, camouflaged, waiting to devour its next victim.

We pushed through the wild overgrowth and made our way to Little Istanbul’s harbor. Two small boats, rocking gently in the dark, murky water, were tied securely to wooden stakes hammered into the ground. After half the district had been submerged, the locals had resorted to this primitive form of transportation to get around. There had been attempts to build bridges, of course—but somehow, every time they were completed, some lunatics managed to steal them overnight, likely selling the materials for scrap.

Untying one of the boats, we climbed in and I began rowing. The surroundings were quiet, but caution was still necessary. It was no secret that gangs like The Noble Americans or The Big Ones buried their victims here after they were done with them. If we dug into the damp earth near where we parked the car, I was sure we’d unearth hundreds of bodies.

“Fuck this,” Leo grumbled, gripping the edge of the boat. “This case is getting weirder by the second.”

“Yep.”

“What if Jacob’s the guy? What if he’s the murderer?” His voice carried a hint of frustration. “What’s the plan then? He’s one of Atilla’s men. They’d skewer us, C. We should call in for backup from Captain Helion.”

“You’re right,” I said, shifting slightly in the boat. “We should.”

Leo pulled out his phone, balancing it against his knee as he dialed Helion. He glanced at me briefly before pressing the phone to his ear. “This is gonna be fun,” he muttered under his breath.

The line buzzed for a few seconds, then Helion’s voice came through. “Leo, what’s up?”

Leo tried to keep his tone casual. “Hey, Cap. How’s it going?”

“Good. What’s going on with you?”

Leo took a deep breath, leaning forward as the boat swayed under him. “Well, uh, we’re heading to Little Istanbul now. With C. You know, following up on a lead.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

There was a pause, then Helion’s voice snapped back, sharp. “Have you lost your mind, Leo? Turn around. Now.”

Leo blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What? We’ve got a lead, Cap. One of Alisha’s clients—sounds like a real piece of work. We’re going to—”

“Client?” Helion cut him off. “Alisha had clients?”

Leo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, turns out she was… working, you know, on the side. A hooker.”

There was a long silence before Helion spoke again, his voice stern. “Leo, listen to me carefully. Where you’re heading is out of my jurisdiction. I can’t help you there.”

Leo’s eyes flickered toward me as he processed Helion’s words. “Well, who is Little Istanbul’s District Captain? Maybe they can help us.”

“Gangs. Thugs. Rapists. People who’d cut your throat for looking at them wrong,” Helion growled. “You’re walking into a deathtrap. You may turn around. If the case goes cold because of this, so be it. I won’t blame you two. It’s not worth your lives.”

Leo muted the phone and shot me a glance, his face twisted in defiance. “I say let’s try our luck. We see anything remotely dangerous, we book it. Okay, C?”

I met his gaze. “Hmm.”

Leo was the kind of guy who hated working. Under normal circumstances, he’d have jumped at Helion’s offer and let the case go cold. But this time was different—so much was at stake. The media was investigating the murder too. If we let it slip, we’d face all the backlash and heat that came with it.

He smirked, turning the mute off. “Yeah, Cap, we’re turning back. Thanks for the heads-up. We’ll see you at the station soon. The signal here’s kinda bad, so… gotta run.”

“Good. Get back safely,” Helion said, his voice calming slightly. “See you soon, Leo.”

Leo hung up, letting out a slow breath as he tossed the phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, sure, Cap,” he muttered sarcastically. “We’ll be right back.”

We both sat in silence for a moment, the tension hanging thick between us, the soft splash of water against the boat the only sound. Then Leo straightened up, shaking his head. “No turning back now.”

“Let’s do this,” I replied, tightening my grip on the oars.

—

Little Istanbul greeted us with a sorrowful stillness, barely visible through the fog.

Directly in front of me stood The Little Istanbul Casino, towering like a forgotten giant, challenging the overcast sky. Among the rundown buildings, it stood tall, a massive structure bathed in dim purple neon lights that gave it an unsettling glow. Its rusted steel doors were covered in graffiti, and moss had crept along its surface after years of neglect. Cracks and stains marred its walls, marking the slow decay of what was once a place of grandeur.

The people of Little Istanbul now lived in tents scattered around the casino. Even from a distance, the hopelessness on their faces was clear.

“Shit, C,” Leo muttered. “I suddenly want to turn back.”

“Same…”

Vendors had set up small stalls outside their tents, mostly selling electronics and tools. Further back, about fifty or a hundred meters from the tents, pale and sickly homeless people gathered around burning trash cans for warmth, sipping from cheap bottles even though it was still early to drink. Some sat on the worn docks, their feet hanging over the water, staring off into the distance.

The slippery, muddy ground made walking difficult, and everyone, even the homeless, wore thick, rugged shoes with spikes for grip. These shoes came from The Big Ones gang, who had stepped in to take care of the people when no one else would, and continued to do so.

After stepping off the boat, I handed the old man there twenty dollars and looked over at Leo.

“Charming, huh?” he said.

“Hmm.”

“Welcome to Little Istanbul,” the old man said in a gruff voice. “I’ll take any guns you have; you can pick them up later.”

Leo and I exchanged a glance. After seeing him pull out his own gun, I reluctantly followed suit and handed mine to the old man. He removed both magazines, checked for bullets, and placed the guns inside a small box, closing it securely.

“Have fun,” he said. “And good luck. You’ll need it, boys.”