We parked in the yard of a five-story building, among numerous other cars, and made ourselves comfortable on the seats as best we could. And overnight, to avoid freezing, we didn't turn off the car.

Syringa settled in the front seat, hugging her younger sister, who whimpered in her sleep and even cried a little. I spread out in the back one as best as I could, meaning I didn't - because the back of the seat just wouldn't go down.

Such rest could not have a good effect on our condition, which was unsurprising. Sleeping while sitting up or lying on a small fold-out car seat is far from comfortable. Your body goes numb and hurts as if you're sleeping on rocks. But given the intensity of our day, it was one of the most comfortable nights I've ever had in my life. I flaked out as soon as I closed my eyes.

I woke up because someone was tickling under my nose. With difficulty, I opened my sticky eyes, blinked a few times to regain some clarity of vision, and saw a girl in front of me smiling from ear to ear, her fluffy ears sticking out from under her hair. She had moved to the second row and, looking as if she had never done anything more interesting in her life, ran the tips of her hair under my nose.

"You little..." I muttered, her smile only getting wider. "And good morning to you, too..."

I yawned so hard I almost dislocated my jaw, and the girl managed to stick her finger in my mouth and quickly pull it out when I closed it. What a restless one.

"What's your name, fur-ears?" I gently scratched her behind her fluffy ear, and she... vibrated. It seemed Syringa had something similar when she hugged me.

"Suzie," she squeaked... no, not squeaked, yapped, squinting as if I was tickling her. "I'm Suzie."

"Suzie? Beautiful name. How are you doing, Suzie?"

"I'm fine," the girl immediately blushed, as if I had asked something shameful.

She turned red, lowered her head, and quickly climbed under her sister's side on the front seat, snuggling closer to her. As if acting out of habit, Syringa piled on top of her, hugging her and pressing her to herself, and muttered something. And from under such protection, little piercing emerald eyes looked at me.

Sweet girl.

I winked at her, and Miss Emerald Eyes burrowed deeper into her older sister's embrace, peeking out at me from there like a little wolf.

Syringa, meanwhile, began to stir again, muttering in her sleep:

"Why are you shuffling..." and she pressed her sister even closer to herself, causing the latter to yelp softly like a puppy.

When I looked at them, my gaze naturally caught on her torn ear. So much for a sister... This scar will remind Suzie for the rest of her life who her sister was and what she almost did for the desire to live better. A memory of that life that will remind Susan better than any photograph of what they've been through.

I waited about another hour before Syringa woke up. She did it quite unusually: she abruptly opened her eyes, then suddenly sat up - as if she hadn't been asleep at all. She glanced around the car, then focused on her sister, who was still clinging to her.

"Did she mess around again?" she asked me grimly.

"She tickled my nose," I turned the little one in without a hint of guilt.

"Okami children are always restless," she ruffled her sister's hair. "We're all like that."

Syringa seemed to be defending her as if I was scolding or accusing them of something.

"All kids are like that," I shrugged. "My mother used to say I was even more of a little devil."

"If you were an okami," Syringa smiled, "you would be a real devil."

"Possibly. Now, let's get going. Do you have the internet on your phone?"

"Yes. Why?"

"We need to rent an apartment."

"Why?"

"We need to. But we need to choose the right place. And before that, we need to buy clothes. You can't go around like this," I pointed at her leg. "Don't you need to treat your leg?"

"Those like me have a strong immune system, don't worry," she dismissed. "We are far more resilient and tough than regular people."

"Okay... Fine. Then get behind the wheel for now. We need to find some nondescript shop and buy some clothes."

And that's what we did. There were a lot of cars around at that time, among which we could easily disappear. I purposely sat a little lower in the second row, so it was harder to see me, but I didn't hide so as not to provoke unnecessary questions. As for Syringa, she seated her sister next to her.

We merged into the dense flow of cars, literally vanishing in it, and headed closer to the city center, where we could find a variety of shops. We were looking for something like small storefronts where you could come in, buy quickly, change, and leave. This was especially important for Syringa.

There were indeed a lot of patrol cars in the city, and the radio was blaring exclusively about what had transpired last night. But no police officer stopped us. They all lazily, as far as I could tell, glanced at Syringa and her sister, then shifted their gaze to other cars. They didn't even see me. And it's hard to notice anyone in such a dense, fast-moving stream of vehicles.

Therefore, we were able to get to a market of the "cheap and cheerful" type, where Syringa, after sternly warning Suzie not to fool around, quickly got out of the car and went shopping. Surprisingly, her sister sat almost motionless - until Syringa returned, now dressed in new jeans, a down jacket, and a sweater. For me, she bought an oversized, ugly down coat with fur and something like wide work pants.

"Sorry, I didn't know the size, so I took it by sight."

But by my sight, they were way too small.

"Did they ask questions?"

"Yes, whether I need anything else," Syringa smirked. "Alright, fatso, try them on, and let's move on. You seem to have a plan, right?"

"Fatso! Fatso-fatso-fatso!" Suzie began to tease me, earning a stern look from Syringa, and immediately fell silent, slightly shrinking.

"Listen here, bold little thing. One more stunt like that, and I'll tear your ears off, got it?"

She just silently nodded.

"But you also call me fatso," I pointed out.

"Do you have a problem with that, Box?" Syringa immediately snapped back, squaring her shoulders.

"No, none at all," I ignored her posturing.

If she likes trying to appear strong, why should I judge? As long as it doesn't interfere, let her even lick the car wheels. But not in public. More interestingly, I managed to squeeze into the down jacket and pants somehow. Actually, I was very doubtful of my ability to do it, but it turned out that I had lost some weight recently. Honestly, I didn't even notice, which was a pleasant surprise.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Next on our plan was an apartment.

Using Syringa's phone, I started looking for a suitable place. It took a long while, so Syringa had time to run to some fast food place and buy us something to eat. Truth be told, I didn't feel hungry, but I forced myself to eat everything anyway.

"It's a strange kind of winter..." Syringa muttered. "There's no snow at all."

"They say there won't be any. It's going to be snowless this time."

"That's bad... Otherwise, all this dirt could be covered with clean white snow," she nodded towards the asphalt, which had long been crusted with dirt at the curbs and, in some places, shone with frozen muddy puddles. "The grey is killing."

"I thought it's bullets that kill, but I could be wrong, of course."

"Are you trying to be smart? You're quite cheeky, Box, haven't you noticed?"

"Yes, I have. Now, please, don't disturb me."

"Tsk..." Of course, Syringa couldn't just stay silent, as it would be a blow to her pride.

Though, the same pride doesn't suffer at all in situations where she faces real danger, and she starts muttering like a little child. I've seen it already.

In the end, I did find an apartment. And quite well located. I wasn't looking for a specific one, but I had already determined the parameters it should meet. And the one I found seemed to do just that. All that remained was to go to the place and inspect it ourselves. Which we did immediately. After all, I planned to finish everything tonight. Absolutely everything, starting with Arrow's goons and ending with transferring money for my sister's operation. Unfortunately, unlike me, Nataliel couldn't wait. So, I had to speed up all the events significantly.

When I showed Syringa the apartment, she just grimaced.

"How pathetic..."

"We're not going to live in it," I noted.

"Yes, but... couldn't you find anything nicer?"

I just sighed tiredly, cracked my neck, and looked at her sympathetically. It must be hard to be silly.

"I'm afraid this is the most optimal option, Syringa, so we need to call and arrange it for today."

"It's expensive."

"We have enough for a few days, although we'll take it for a week."

"Don't you mind the waste of money?"

"We have a ten-grand stack. I don't think money plays such an important role right now. Plus, we need to get a car. Several cars."

"Stolen ones?"

"Yes, stolen cars. And phones. Clean ones, just so I can make a single call."

"What are you up to?" she squinted.

"I'll tell you as soon as we rent an apartment and get everything we need."

"So, you suggest I do carjacking?"

"Yes. And I'll buy some stuff, naturally. Also, you'll rent the apartment in your name. You were planning to leave town anyway."

"You know what..."

I never found out what, as Syringa just sighed, started the car, and drove off to rent the apartment. After all, she's a girl, and there will be significantly fewer questions for her than for me.

I don't know who the apartment's owner was, but there were no problems renting it once Syringa paid for a week, along with the deposit. So, soon after, I moved the bag into the apartment.

It was a small one-bedroom on the third floor with a kitchen, bathroom, and hallway - a relatively modest apartment on the corner of the building located on a T-shaped intersection. So, the windows overlooked both roads, making them almost perfectly visible. There was also a small restaurant called "Firework" here. And the road leading to the intersection literally ran into it. In other words, you could easily crash straight into the restaurant if you sped down this street.

"So, here's the plan," I started when we settled in. "First of all, tell your sister not to shove rounds in her mouth; it won't end well."

Syringa jolted, then turned sharply to Suzie, who froze in place with a mouthful of automatic shots and a hand outstretched holding several more. I just watched as the girl got scolded by her older sister, whose eyes bulged at the sight.

"Okay, moving on," I continued when Syringa couldn't think of anything better than to sit her restless sister on her lap and hug her, not letting go. The younger girl started playing with her tail. "We need several cars, which we'll position here and here," I pointed at the spots on the schematic map I had drawn myself. "They'll come for us as soon as we propose a meeting. Arrow won't be with them."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he's a coward. But if he joins them, all the better. It'll save us some time. Does he have any impulsers working for him that we need to be wary of?"

"There are four serving him. Of course, there are others who can shoot lightning from their fingers or light a cigarette with them, but those four are the most dangerous. All four are physical."

People with impulse are generally classified into three types: physical, material, and mental.

"Physical" refers to fire, electricity, and anything that can be created on a physical level. The critical distinction is that you can make it out of nothing. Of course, fire needs air, but that's a minor detail. The main thing is that it's not there, but it appears due to your power. There's also dark matter, but that's extremely rare.

"Material" is the manipulation of matter. For example, earth, water, or air. They are not created because they already exist, like moisture in the air, water in a lake, air itself, and earth underfoot. They are simply manipulated, changing their form, concentration, and structure. So, such type directly affects the matter.

"Mental" refers to everything that is not visible, if you exaggerate. In essence, it's body influence and telekinesis. Creating various barriers that stop bullets, acceleration, energy drainage, or mind control, such as instilling fear, dulling attention, or controlling the enemy. By the way, mind control and any direct influence on a person is almost impossible due to one's energy field, which is very difficult to break through. Therefore, those who can do this are highly valued assets absolutely everywhere.

So, every person with impulse usually has abilities of one of three types: physical, mental, and material. Each type has its direction: electricity or fire; water, earth or air; telekinesis, mind control, or other interesting things.

And there are those who can work in all the three types in all their directions - provided they have the power for it.

"Can anyone set up barriers?" I decided to clarify right away.

"One can," Syringa explained. "He's an air type. Two are fire, and one is electricity."

Air barriers were akin to mental ones, yet distinctly different.

Mental barriers simply stopped projectiles. Be it a missile or a bullet, the mental barrier would halt it all. The real question was whether the impulse user had enough strength. A storm of gunfire from regular guns could literally overwhelm them, draining their energy completely. But against a single powerful projectile, say, a sub-caliber shell from a tank, they could hold their ground.

An air barrier was like an invisible wall, too, but it was physically there. A plane of intensified density where bullets would get stuck. Hence, the principle - the higher the penetration, the better your attack performs against it. Here, it wasn't about the number but the power. The stronger the impulse user, the sturdier the barrier. It might not withstand a missile, but no matter how many bullets you fired, it would hold them back as long as the user could maintain the barrier.

Therein lay the difference - one was vulnerable to the number of projectiles, the other to their power.

I suspected that we wouldn't be dealing with a particularly strong impulse user here.

"He'll definitely bring a barrier user," I asserted. "He's probably going to send more people to retrieve the flash drive and tie up loose ends. He's anticipating our resistance and plans to quell it with numbers. To avoid having his own men killed, who could potentially tie him back to this, he'll send the physical impulser with barriers. And... another one with a fire impulse."

"Why not electricity?"

"Because fire is excellent for attacks. It can be used to smoke out someone or burn traces. Do you know how many men he has?"

"Well... six buddies, four of whom have impulse. Those are his inner circle. Then there are the underlings he controls, who aren't exactly his pals. Maybe ten to fifteen of them. Could even be twenty."

It wasn't many, but it wasn't a small number either. Generally, the clan was organized this way: the head had assistants who managed specific areas or handled significant businesses - these were the captains. There were about four in the Hassa clan. Each captain had several underlings in their territories - soldiers. Some of them watched over specific streets and collected tribute, others handled business, and some were akin to hitmen.

Arrow belonged to those overseeing significant trading posts in specific territories. Not just little shops, but a small market too, usually divided between him and a Chinese gang. Hence the number of support personnel. Besides him, I knew four other soldiers operating in this area, all working for a single capo.

"We'll need at least three cars. Four would be better."

"Alright, say we get them, what's your part in this?"

"I'll buy cell phones based on the number of cars, with temporary numbers," I explained. It was as simple as paying twenty bucks for a SIM card that worked for a specific period or came with a certain number of talk minutes. "Plus, we need to hit a hardware store to get the stuff we need for our evening party - wouldn't want to disappoint Arrow."

I didn't go into the details of the case. I'll just explain it to her before the very beginning.

"You're so considerate," Syringa said with a sour smile.

"You have no idea how much. He's probably expecting to get his flash drive from us, so I see no reason not to show up and hand it to him personally.

"And what's on it?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know, but judging by the size, it's not a simple flash drive. It's quite possible that it will require a password, which, if not entered, will fry the computer or the drive itself. Or it might remember all login attempts and then notify the owners. So I don't even touch it."

"But to snatch something like that from the house is suicide."

"He might have wanted to blackmail them," I suggested. "But it doesn't matter. Though if you want, we can ask him soon."