The slums were quiet, the kind of silence that carried weight—a tension that lingered in the narrow, crumbling streets. It was just past 2 AM, and the night seemed to stretch endlessly. The few dim lights flickering from windows cast eerie shadows over the dirt paths and dilapidated shacks. A group of five men moved purposefully through the desolation, their boots scuffing softly against the ground.

Badr led the way. He wore his priestly robe loosely, the hem dragging slightly against the ground, blending with the shadows. Behind him were four policemen, their uniforms stark against the night. Though the slums were their territory, the officers moved with unease. This wasn’t the kind of place they patrolled anymore—not after the uprising, not without good reason.

The group stopped outside a broken-down house, its walls leaning as though the structure was too tired to stand any longer. Adam stepped forward, rapping on the flimsy wooden door. The sound echoed unnaturally in the silence. Inside, there was a muffled curse, followed by the creak of footsteps. The door cracked open, revealing a scarred face twisted in irritation.

revealing the wary faces of three men inside—hardened criminals whose reputations preceded them. They were infamous in the slums, known for their thievery and violence, and their expressions soured as soon as they saw the uniforms.

“What the fuck are these pigs doing here?” one of them growled, his hand already moving toward the knife on his belt. “You’ve got a death wish, Badr?”

Adam raised a calming hand, his tone even and unruffled. “There’s no need for a fight. We’re here to talk.”

“Talk?” the man scoffed, his grip tightening on the knife. “You’ve got some balls coming here and calling this ‘needless.’ I beg to differ.”

He unsheathed the knife, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light.

Adam didn’t flinch. Instead, he gestured subtly toward the policemen behind him, who stepped forward with an imposing presence. “You don’t want to add to your sentence now, do you?”

The man laughed, joined by the others. “Sentence? Nah, I’m free now. You can’t do shit to me. None of you can.”

“Oh, really?” Adam said, his voice cold and measured.

The criminals broke into mocking laughter, but it was short-lived. Adam stepped forward, his eyes locked onto the leader’s. “I brought you here tonight for a reason. You’re free now, sure—but not for long. Idris is planning to round you up after he gets elected and send you straight back to jail.”

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The laughter died abruptly. Nervous glances passed between the three men.

“What? Why would he do that?” one of them asked, his bravado faltering.

“Because he’s the self-proclaimed savior of this city,” Adam replied smoothly. “You’ve heard him, haven’t you? Always going on about ‘cleaning up the streets,’ ‘stabilizing the city,’ and ‘giving people their purpose.’ Do you really think your looting and assaults over the past month have gone unnoticed?”

“But… he didn’t mean us,” another man said, though his voice lacked conviction.

Adam’s smile was thin and humorless. “Oh, he meant you. It’s only natural, isn’t it? To make an example out of the troublemakers—lock them up to show the city he means business. You’re the perfect scapegoats.”

“That’s bullshit,” the leader muttered. “They opened the prisons. Ain’t no way they’re locking us back up.”

Adam’s gaze turned icy. “They freed political prisoners. Are you political prisoners?”

Silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating.

“Here’s the reality,” Adam continued, pacing slowly. “You have two choices. Vote for Idris and get locked up once he’s in power. Or vote for me, and I’ll ensure you’re pardoned for everything you’ve done. I’ll even go a step further—brand you as heroes of the revolution. After all, mischief was bound to happen during such a chaotic time.”

The men exchanged uneasy glances. “We weren’t planning to vote anyway,” one of them muttered. “Don’t care about that shit.”

Adam stopped and turned to face them, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Well, now you do. Because your future depends on it.”

The leader narrowed his eyes. “How do we know you’re not full of shit?”

Adam gestured toward the policemen behind him. “You know these guys, don’t you? You’ve had your fair share of fights with them. I brought them here tonight, not to start a fight, but to prove a point. I have the police on my side—the very people who’ll be tasked with locking you up if you step out of line. If you don’t vote for me and make the entire neighborhood do the same, you’re finished. Whether it’s me or Idris in power, you’ll end up back in a cell.”

The words hung in the air, a grim promise.

“The entire neighborhood?” the leader repeated, his voice laced with disbelief.

Adam’s expression didn’t waver. “You’re men of influence in this area. People look up to you—whether out of fear or respect, it doesn’t matter. I need every vote from this district. You’ll ensure it happens.”

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken threats and reluctant understanding. The three criminals, once defiant and brash, now wore the look of cornered animals. Finally, the leader nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Fine. We’ll make it happen.”

Adam’s smile returned, this time with a glint of triumph. “Good. Remember, gentlemen—your freedom depends on this.”

Without another word, he turned and left the shack, the policemen trailing behind him. Outside, the slums were as quiet as ever, the air heavy with the promise of coming change. Adam glanced up at the sky, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He met other gangsters throughout the week and had similar conversations with them.