**Café "Breeze," Ten Hours Ago**
**Reception**
*Galina Alekseyevna E.*
"Yes, yes, everything as per the directive!" the woman chirped like a nightingale. "Didn't even bother to change his uniform, the scoundrel, ugh! Yes, I checked him in until ten in the morning. Yes, I'm keeping an eye on him. Understood. When should I expect you? Of course! And am I getting anything for this? What?! Oh, you corrupt—! Fine, I’m waiting," she snapped, slamming the receiver down. "Good Lord, they’ll hire just anyone these days, and then you’re stuck reporting for free. Didn’t even say thank you, the louse!"
---
**Café "Breeze," Present Time**
**Second Floor, Room 205**
*Vulkan*
While I updated Dima on the situation and returned to my body, the gendarmes were already at the door. Wasting no time on formalities, the fattest of them started pounding on the door and shouting like a madman:
"In the name of the Strelestky family, open immediately! Do not force us to use force! You have thirty seconds before we break the door down!"
"Aren’t they dramatic," I muttered to Dima mentally. "Remind me—are we supposed to avoid these guys, or can we take them out without consequences?"
"Better to avoid them," Dima replied confidently. "These bastards don’t have anything concrete on us, but they are within their rights. They can detain anyone for several hours without reason, which they often exploit when they know there’ll be no pushback. And they’re sure I won’t retaliate."
"Naive fools," I chuckled, assessing their strength. All apprentices, not a single master among them. Laughable. "Sure, we’re nobodies right now, but I refuse to let them treat us like this!"
Emptying my pockets, I scattered the remaining dark smoke pellets across the floor. Never gets old—classic tricks for a reason.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
I peeked out the window and immediately spotted several masters watching us, disguised as civilians. So, they were covering the exits too. Good. That’s where I’d start.
"Maybe we just leave quietly, without a fight?" Dima suggested hesitantly. "I’m sure the gnome is behind this. Looks like he’s got some ‘protection’ here, which isn’t surprising. We just need to get out of the city—I doubt his influence extends beyond the local precinct."
"Yeah, well, these clowns aren’t likely to just let us waltz out of here," I countered, pulling a solid ash mask over my face. Not exactly inconspicuous, but it’d protect me from the smoke. "Besides, they’re all in cars…"
"We warned you!" came a shout from the door. "Boys, break it down!"
One hit, then another, and on the third, the door gave way. The entire squad started pouring in. I was already at the far wall, waiting. While the gendarmes menacingly unfolded their telescopic batons, I issued them a simple command: *Gas them.*
Too bad I couldn’t see their faces through the magical vision, but their reaction to the smoke was immediate—and colorful. Judging by the curses, they recognized it instantly. Unlike the cutthroat catacomb guards, these officers didn’t deserve to die. Just a little incapacitation, disable their equipment and vehicles, and I’d vanish into the sunset.
Despite their actions, I understood it was just their job, no matter how despicable they seemed. I might be wrong, but I’m no deity to pass judgment.
One by one, they each got a precise strike to the neck, ensuring they wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. The smoke did the rest, and even when they came to, they’d think twice about pursuing me. The mental image of them scrambling for the sink was enough to make me grin.
With the apprentices taken care of, I turned my attention to the masters. For reasons beyond me, they’d split their forces, which only played to my advantage. When they realized something had gone wrong with their colleagues, they split further—two remained watching the window, while one rushed into the inn.
"What the…" There he was, standing dumbfounded, fending off my smoke with his wind magic. "Kid, you’re gonna pay for this—"
"Yeah, yeah," I waved dismissively, stepping out of my body and taking control of his. Speaking through him, I instructed Dima: "Give him a solid thump, but don’t overdo it."
Done and done. The bald master looked visibly shaken, and we headed downstairs to scare off his remaining colleagues. Meanwhile, I focused on sabotaging the gendarmes’ equipment. Phones are fragile things, after all—didn’t take much effort.
With their communications down, I quickly returned to my body. The commotion in the hallway had drawn a crowd, but Dima was already downstairs. Oh, and there she was—Miss Piggy, shrieking at the sight of us, practically oinking in fear. My ash mask probably made me look like a comic book villain. Selective memory is a funny thing—it kicks in unbidden.
"How shall we repay her for her kindness?" I mused aloud. "She definitely called the gendarmes."
"I have an idea," Dima grinned, handing control back to me. "You clear out the register—we’ll take what’s ours with interest."
Done and done. As I stuffed a solid two thousand rubles into my bag, Dima chased Miss Piggy upstairs. Just as I finished, a squealing, snorting noise echoed from above. He didn’t show me what happened, thank goodness, but his mental note—*I carefully burned her clothes at the seams*—was more than enough.
Hoping no truckers had eaten yet, I pushed the scene from my mind and bolted to the parking lot. The masters, finally catching on that I wasn’t escaping through the window, were circling the café.
Dima returned just in time, taking over again as I executed our usual tactic of possession. We dealt with the masters quickly and got to work on the cars. One vehicle we kept for ourselves—fleeing on foot wasn’t ideal. After fashioning a makeshift key, we sped off, leaving the chaos behind.