I've never sought justifications for my actions. There are none. There's no noble purpose or higher mission. I'm a criminal, just like the rest, no matter what noble meaning is attributed to what I did. One can commit crimes for whatever reason, but it doesn't change the fact - I get paid for it, and crimes remain crimes.

Once, I watched a movie called "Noble Avenger." It's the story of a man who killed criminals. All kinds of them - rapists, murderers, robbers, burglars, carjackers, and so on. He exterminated them indiscriminately, and the movie portrayed him as a positive character. A kind of cloaked hero punishing bad people.

Later, as I grew up, I understood the message of that movie. Sometimes, you have to break the law for justice and goodness to triumph. But even at that age, I knew it was nonsense. I saw that it was all wrong, at least because everyone else abides by the law, and he suddenly decided he had the right to be better than the rest.

The truth is that even the most benevolent Robin Hood, the most just law enforcer or defender of the weak, committing a crime, is just an ordinary criminal who has his price. That's it. Any of these pseudo-noble heroes is as corrupt as regular gangsters.

You just have to name their price correctly.

For some - to kill villains, for others - to feed the hungry, for the third - to save the family. And if, for this, they are ready to break the law - they are criminals. Because there is no difference between them - whatever goals they pursue - and ordinary criminals. Both are paid, just some with money, others - with the achievement of the goal. A genuine law-abiding person is one who will not break the law under any circumstances.

I do this because I get paid. My price is the life of my sister. Her life is more important than the lives of all those people. And tell me that she will be saved if I kill a man, I will do it.

At that moment, I realized this very clearly, as if I saw a mirage picturing all this before me.

I arrived at the apartment where I had met Malu and his entire crew three months ago. Naturally, it was he who opened the door for me. As it turned out, apart from him, no one else was present.

"Do you live here or something?" I asked, shaking his hand and stepping inside. The old door creaked shut behind me.

"Sometimes. Unlike my apartment - my actual home - nobody knows about this place. So... Yes, this is the safest place at the moment."

Inside, nothing had changed since the last time, except for a couple of bags, apparently brought in for the job, rifles, ammunition, radios, clothes, and so on. I silently surveyed all the items before me, wondering if this would be enough or not. On one of the stools lay a folder with a stack of papers, presumably the plan for the job provided by Arrow."

"That's a lot of ammunition," I noted. "We're not going there to kill."

"Just a bit, we took three magazines for each of us. Fifty rounds in each. Just in case... you never know..."

"We'll also have to carry bags," I reminded him of his words. "Twenty million - that's two hundred kilograms. That's about thirty-three kilograms each."

"We'll go by car, so don't worry," Malu brushed me off. "Better worry about the bank being in the city center. We still have to get out of there."

"Well, if things are that bad, Arrow wouldn't have tipped us off, right?"

"Right. At least we already have escape routes that we can take quickly. Look," Malu extended the folder that was lying on the stool.

Mostly, it contained information about the bank and everything related to it. Police response time to the panic button, where the alarm runs through, where the cameras are, what the bars are made of, how much security, when the shift changes, when the cash collectors arrive, when traffic is at its peak, and so on.

"We're robbing during the guard shift change? At three o'clock?"

"Arrow suggested the same," Malu smirked. "Yes, I think while they're scratching their balls and jerking each other off, we'll have everything done. But there's another nuance - there are women behind the counters, each with a panic button. And there's a guy in a guard's armored booth. And while we can rush to the women, by the time we get to the guy, he'll already have the siren on. But they all have lunch and rotate so that someone is always on the buttons. At three, the guy leaves the booth to take a break. Another one will get inside. That's when we'll break in."

"And what about the bars and cameras?"

"I've got my guys coming with us, they're reliable. One will connect to the communication and destroy the camera recordings."

"To the communication?" I didn't understand.

"Well, or whatever this crap is called? You know, to tap into, in case the alarm is fired, so as not to be caught off guard," he tried to explain. "He'll bolt there to screw up the electronics right away."

"I get it. Basically, an electronics specialist."

"Yep. And the second one is a technician. There will be locks and bars, but he's a specialist in this field, knows what to take with him and how to deal with it quickly, so don't worry."

"Does Arrow need a specific room?"

"Yes. The one where the house keeps their money. Gray cash. Or illegal; I didn't fully get it. So they won't be able to complain to the police either. And since nothing was stolen..." Malu shrugged.

I see... so that's what he needs, money that the police will not be looking for. But the house will, and Arrow must understand that perfectly well. So, there must be something else.

"And that's it? Just money?"

"There will also be a box. We need to take its contents."

And there's the main goal. I see... although I'm not really interested in what's in there, to be honest. As I was thinking about all this, Malu suddenly asked me.

"Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?"

"Does it matter?"

"Answering a question with a question?" His smirk was malevolent. Malu was one of those rare people who could get wound up even from such a common phrase, taking it as a personal insult.

"A car hit my sister. I need money for the surgery," I decided to respond honestly. There was no room for vague answers or resentment in front of a job like this.

"I see."

"Then I have a counter-question. Why are you so insistent about this job? Why me specifically?"

"Why? Hmm… you know, sometimes you look at someone and fall in love. You feel like this is your person?"

"No offense, but you could be more selective with such allegories, Malu. They're unsettling."

"Fuck off..." he waved dismissively. "The point is, I see you, and I understand that you're a reliable guy. At least I feel like I can trust you. And my feelings in such cases play a decisive role. I can't work with someone who's a complete dickhead or someone who irritates me."

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"And you didn't look for another reliable soldier?"

"I did. And I almost found a guy. He was in for hacking. If you hadn't called, we'd take on this job with him in half a month. But the point is, I don't know him, but I know you, so... you called me, and everything just fell into place. Screw him, I'm taking you on the team."

"But doesn't Syringa irritate you?" I smiled weakly.

"Fuck, you're asking if she irritates me, but you're laughing," he snarled. "You understand that she's a sweetheart, though as dumb as a cork. Even if not always. And, damn it, stubborn…"

"That's for sure…"

She was incredibly stubborn. And sometimes as dumb as a street pole.

We sat down to work out our plan in more detail. The main one, of course, was provided by Arrow, but still, both Malu and I preferred to check everything and tailor it to our needs.

We also had a "safehouse," a secure place we were supposed to escape. It was in an abandoned building in the same old industrial district. Some basement with a fairly strong door and a spacious room, where even a light bulb under the ceiling worked.

"Have you been there?" I asked.

"Been there. A few times. When I had to lay low."

"Is there any other exit besides the entrance from the street?"

"Who the fuck knows. There seems to be a hatch down there."

"And what's there?" I asked curiously.

"There's a whole network of utility tunnels underneath. Probably one of them. Why are you interested?"

"Just wondering," I shrugged. "We need to know where we're going and the escape points from there."

"And did you look for them from here too?" Malu smirked.

"Of course. I can jump out of that window," I nodded to the window in the room, "and land on a tree branch. I won't get hurt much, and I'll be able to run away."

We also had a backup rendezvous point - in case anything went wrong: if we somehow split up, couldn't reach the safehouse, and so on, everyone was supposed to head to the suburbs, to Kovylina Street, 7. Essentially, a backup safehouse.

We spent a long time studying the routes, but the one proposed by Arrow turned out to be the safest and fastest. According to it, we had to get through in barely five minutes - the entire center would be cordoned off after that.

On the other hand, if we're pursued from the start, we can always escape through one alley or another; they literally riddle this part of town. The police won't physically be able to block everything all at once completely. There's a place to drive to the backup car if we need it.

Next, the positions. Two obviously go into the vault. Two in the lobby and one more behind the counter - to ensure no one presses the alarm button. Plus, one outside, watching the door to make sure no one enters. We will, of course, lock the door, but we need someone to monitor the situation outside since it's downtown and there will be quite a few people. You never know what might happen; someone might notice something about the bank, and so on. Lastly, when the job is done, Syringa will drive the car to the emergency exit, which we will use to get out.

Then, discussions began about what to do if we encounter resistance, if the alarm button is pushed, who will deal with the surveillance camera hard drives, and so on. We will have to check the stacks for trackers quickly, but that will be up to those who grab everything. Plus, a jamming device, in case we accidentally miss a tracker, like last time. We'll also need phones, and all of that needs to be doused in bleach just in case - we didn't get the cans for nothing. And so on and so forth.

"Malu."

"What's up?"

"Regarding the money. When we bring the money to Arrow, keep your wits about you, okay?"

"Why the sudden caution?" he eyed me suspiciously.

"Well, it's just that..."

I wanted to say that Arrow entrusted this precisely to us, not someone more reliable and experienced, though he does have such people. So, we're not his people, not the clan's people, which won't tie him to us if we get caught. And it will be easier to get rid of us. But I decided not to be so blunt with such bold statements.

"Just intuition. We need to be on guard. It's a large sum, and I don't trust Arrow."

"Because of the rat?"

"That too. Although it's not a given that these things are connected."

"Not connected? What kind of Barbarossa plan do you have in your head?" he wondered.

"Not a plan, just trying to look at the big picture," I shrugged.

Why was Arrow so keen on Malu taking on this job? Was it for this reason? And my sister, could all this be connected? There are things about which people say, "They wouldn't go to such lengths for you, don't think so highly of yourself," and there are things you can entrust to those you can discard, like trash.

I'm not paranoid or pessimistic - I'm realistic. I see something, put things together, and get something I don't like, which could become a problem.

"Big picture," he snorted. "Fine, screw it, I'll keep my eyes on my ass."

"No need to keep them on your ass. On the back of your head," I corrected, and he glared at me.

"Can't do without showing how smart you are, can you? And why are your hands shaking?" he nodded at my wrists.

"I'm nervous."

"But everything will happen the day after tomorrow," Malu grinned. "You're such a sissy."

"I am who I am," I didn't take offense. I'm used to it and realized arguing with him is pointless. He talks roughly like Alex, just doesn't filter his words, and says whatever comes to mind, even if he doesn't mean to offend. That's just how he is; I can only accept it.

"Here," he extended a pack to me, "Smoke up, calm down."

"I don't smoke," I shook my head.

"Then it's high time you started. Don't worry, you can always quit, but it helps calm the nerves."

I had heard the phrase 'you can always quit' many times, but it didn't seem to work out for everyone. A bit suspicious, isn't it?

On the other hand, considering my job, it couldn't get any worse, and it might even provide a sort of intoxication. It might distract me from all this. And what if it actually helps?

"Alright..." I mumbled and pulled out a cigarette.

"Just don't inhale the smoke straight away."

"What am I supposed to do with it then?" I didn't understand.

"You're not a heavy smoker, right?" He smirked. "First, take a little smoke into your mouth. Then into your lungs, so it's not pure smoke. Otherwise, you'll be choking just like last time."

"Just like a bad boy now. Though I smoke, but I don't drink, at least."

"And we can fix that," he winked. "Once we get the job done, we can go party with some girls."

"Yeah, to beat them with my belly," I smiled back, put the cigarette in my mouth, lit it up, and carefully drew the smoke into my mouth.

Bitterness. It felt like I'd inhaled regular smoke. My throat burned slightly, but this time, the urge to cough was much less. I looked at Malu questioningly, but he just nodded his head.

"Just keep going, keep going..."

And so I did. I kept inhaling until my head started spinning, and I felt slightly nauseous. I didn't calm down, but my head felt as if I had spun around my own axis. By the time I finished the first cigarette, these sensations had firmly taken root in my consciousness. And my appetite had dulled, even though I hadn't eaten a crumb, which was affecting my desire to indulge.

"Lies," I muttered, putting the butt in the ashtray. "I'm not a bit calmer, but now my head's spinning."

"Well, of course, you puffed a whole cigarette for the first time."

"Is that a lot?"

"For a beginner. Too bad I can't do it like in my good old days, although, if I smoke a whole pack at once, I think I'd trip."

"When did you start smoking?"

"Probably around twelve. Or even earlier. I don't remember. But in Lower City, many kids start 'adult life' early."

"So it sounds like a hellish place."

"More like crap is more common, although it looks quite ordinary from the outside. It's not like in the movies where they're shooting each other on the streets or immediately robbing, raping, and killing in the alleys. Yes, it happens, but not on such a scale and not so openly."

He picked up an automatic from the table.

"This, I take it, is ours? The one we borrowed from the drug dealers?"

"Yes, now they give us the ones we looted," he smirked, patting the automatic. "I asked for something less rapid-fire since the ones we got before were eating up ammunition like crazy. This is a Belgian light automatic 'Linger' with not the highest rate of fire, but good accuracy and relatively low maintenance with standard 5.56 cartridges. We can load our own ammunition now, by the way."

"Our own?"

"Armor-piercing. I did manage to keep a few things," he gestured towards the corner of the room where a mattress lay. "Plastique, for instance."

"I thought you gave everything away," I noted.

"I kept some for myself. At the very beginning, I loaded some stuff into the car separately. Wanted to keep the guns too, of course, but… But let's forgive that foolish girl. Anyway, we've got armor-piercing rounds, explosives, even a few flashbangs, and plenty of regular grenades."

"But no guns to use them with."

"Exactly!" He made a gun with his hand and pointed it at me. "Unless you plan on shooting them out of your ass."

"Well, in that case, we could call Syringa a double-barrel."

Malu looked at me, surprised. Then he burst out laughing.

"Syringa! Double-barrel! Lucky you, she can't hear you, fuck!" He grabbed his belly in a fit of laughter. "Fuck… Double-barrel!"

He was guffawing like a madman until he dropped his gun. But even after that, he kept laughing as if he'd drunk a shot. It lasted for a minute, maybe more. His genuine laughter made me smile, too.

"You're something else… God… double-barrel… fuck, I just can't… unbelievable," Malu wiped tears from his eyes. "Are you the main stand-up comedian in your class?"

"No, I just pictured the scene in my head."

"Me too," he exhaled. "Damn… You're never boring, bro. But we've got an important job to do."

He picked up the gun from the table and threw it to me. I caught it with one hand.

"There are one hundred and fifty rounds for each gun, and we need to clean everything so there's no chance of any evidence being left behind. And the guns, too, in case we drop something, and so on."

"And the explosives?"

"What are you planning to blow up?" Malu asked. "We're going to do everything quietly."

After that, we sat and literally scrubbed the guns. Checked them and carefully packed them into bags so nothing would get on them. Checked our clothes, making sure everyone had a set; checked the tools for unlocking and the buildings' plan. We clearly had a lot to do, and it helped me distract myself from what had happened and what was yet to happen.

Natali and Nataliel were afraid I'd become like these people, but the reality was a little different: I didn't just become like them - I became one of them.