The Two Puzo Grunts were sauntering down the corridor, taking their time, brimming with overconfidence. Clearly, they were more concerned about getting caught by their colleagues than anything else. After all, such a scenario would mean shelling out some hush money. Naturally, this wasn’t about morals—those didn’t exist here—it was purely about cost. And judging by their attitude, they had set a pretty low price for me.

Hmm, "low price"—what was that again? Oh right, a term from the local currency. Specifically, it referred to a fraction of a ruble, one-hundredth to be exact. Handy to rummage through memories sometimes. In my era, currency names were different.

"Keep it down," said Puzo 2, judging by the voice.

"Yeah, yeah. Worst case, we owe them a shot each," Puzo 1 dismissed him.

"More like a bottle each," Puzo 2 scoffed as he turned the key in the lock. "Wait, what the...?"

Peeking inside, Puzo 2 finally spotted me. I stood there, holding a brick in one hand and a smoky sphere in the other—a sight that was anything but typical. I could tell they were stunned. Both of them: the first one leaned in to look over his buddy’s shoulder, equally dumbstruck.

"You seeing this?" Puzo 1 nudged his companion in disbelief.

"Yeah," Puzo 2 muttered. "And I don't get it. That thing in his hand—it's gotta be magic." He then turned to me with a smirk. "What’s this, kid? Awakened, have we?"

"Something like that," I replied defiantly, goading them. "So, you coming in for a visit, or what?"

Hook, line, and sinker—they didn’t even hesitate. Both of them stepped into the cell, casually closing the door behind them to keep the noise from leaking out.

"Feeling gutsy, aren't we?" Puzo 1 sneered, approaching me from the right while extending a telescopic baton. "Just awakened and already think you're a hotshot, huh?"

"Yeah, kid," Puzo 2 laughed mockingly as he closed the gap. "Let’s see your little trick. Think you can even hit me with that ball?"

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"If you insist," I smirked, silently signaling to Dima.

Dima didn’t miss a beat, launching his assault on Puzo 1. Despite his Apprentice-level strength and two dim, but functional, mana cores, the guy crumpled under the mental attack in under five seconds.

Meanwhile, I hurled my compressed smoke ball directly at Puzo 2's face. The guard wasn’t slow—he snatched it midair—but that wasn’t my real attack. While he was distracted, I swung the brick—hard—straight into his groin.

"Ugh," Puzo 2 doubled over, his hand already reaching for his weapon. "Damn it, Zheka, don’t just stand there!"

But "Zheka" wasn’t standing idle. Before Puzo 2 could react, a solid blow from the telescopic baton landed on his neck, knocking him out cold. He collapsed to the floor, clueless about what had just hit him.

"Good, but not enough," "Zheka" sighed, pointing at himself. "What now? Finish this one off?"

"No," I shook my head, already hearing familiar footsteps and voices in the corridor. "First, we handle the others. You’ll get plenty of action soon."

"Alright," Zheka barked, twirling the baton with a whistle. "Let’s get to it!"

We didn’t have to wait long, but we decided not to blow our cover immediately. When Valera and Vasya finally squeezed into the cell, I lay on the floor "defeated," hiding the brick, while Dima loomed over me in a mock triumphant pose.

"Are you kidding me?!" Vasya bellowed. "What the hell are you pulling on our shift?!"

"Guys," Zheka lowered his weapon awkwardly, forcing a sheepish grin. "Maybe… you didn’t see anything, yeah?"

"Two," the fat one, Valera, growled with finality, raising his sausage-like fingers. Then, glancing at his partner on the floor, he added, "Each."

"A shot each?" Zheka asked hopefully.

"A *liter* each!" Valera barked, gesturing at Puzo 2's unconscious body. "And what about this one?!"

"He slipped," Dima chuckled, motioning toward me. "Tried to off the kid, but I guess the brat knows a thing or two about pressure points. Dared him with a 'Hit me if you can!' and—well—here we are. Kid’s got guts."

"No kidding," Vasya laughed, eyeing me. "Didn’t think feeding him would pay off, but he’s sure giving us a show today! Almost a shame to kill him now—who knows what he’ll do next?"

"Which is exactly why we *should* kill him," Dima snapped, fully in character. Truly, a natural talent. "Before he pulls another stunt. And we owe Marcus, don’t we?"

"Who cares about Marcus?" Valera sneered, glaring at Zheka. "Good riddance, that psycho. Maybe they’ll send someone less nuts."

"Like hell they will," Vasya scoffed. "Nobody sane would take this job. Even I wouldn’t!"

"As if they’d even let you!" Valera shot back, dismissively waving him off. "Moralist, my ass!"

"Not morals—this isn’t magic; it’s madness!" Vasya roared. "Pretending you’re in a torture chamber all day, every day? That’d drive anyone insane!"

"Point taken. Marcus proved that," Zheka chuckled. "Can’t say I’ll miss him."

"Exactly," Vasya nodded. "Zheka’s got it right!"

"Fine, I won’t argue," Valera relented. Then, with a snort, he pointed at me. "Alright, Zheka, finish it so we can move on before someone catches us."

"Or you could do it yourself?" Dima offered, weapon raised. "I don’t mind sharing the glory."

"Heh, why not?" Valera grunted, approaching me. "Might as well—"

He didn’t get to finish. The moment his back turned, Dima struck him across the neck with the baton at full force. The fat guard toppled over, landing squarely on Puzo 2. No way he’d wake up anytime soon now.

"What the hell?!" Vasya shouted, pulling out his baton. "Zheka, are you crazy?!"

Zheka just smirked at me, stepping aside. I sprung up and slammed my "fortress" of a brick straight into Vasya's face.Nothing like an indestructible weapon to get the job done.