“The Milkman?” That name left Malcolm’s mouth in venomous hatred and he turned it to the man that inquired him about it. “What about him?”

Dalton had remembered when Malcolm was concussed from his battle with Ozul. He uttered that name madly, hitting Dalton over and over with his gravity gun. He had thought nothing of it, until Maya uttered that name.

Right now, Malcolm had the same hatred that Maya had exhibited.

He wanted to know more.

“Maya mentioned him last night. She told me he killed one of the Star Witches,” Dalton said.

“He did,” Malcolm gave a curt nod. “Star Witches are essentially gods and the Milkman killed one of them.”

This was it! He needed to know. He wanted to know. So, he pressed Malcolm further. “How?”

Malcolm stared at him for a good minute before speaking. “I don’t know.” He turned away. His hand gripped into a tiny white ball. “But I want to kill him.”

It was disappointing that he had no idea. But he could still get information on him.

“What did he do to you?”

“He…he did the worst thing possible.” Malcolm expression turned serious. “He-”

He was cut off when the door opened. Ingrid came in first, quickly followed by Eira who was dragging a despondent Riot. She tossed him on the couch right across from where Dalton was sitting almost hitting Malcolm.

“Hey!” He growled.

Eira ignored him and sat herself on one of the armchairs. Ingrid scanned the room and nodded when she saw the four of them.

“I hope you read your files,” she said.

Malcolm chuckled. “I don’t read.”

Ingrid quirked her lips to the side, and turned to the other three. Dalton told her he did. Eira did not give a verbal response, but she gave Ingrid the middle finger, so Dalton assumed that meant no. Riot was still a despondent mess.

“Okay, well, if you read it, then you would know that your target is the Drug Lord. A man that defeated the Demon King of this world.”

“Drug Lord?” Malcolm snorted. “Is his drugs any good?”

“That does not matter, Malcolm. Your job is to kill him.” Ingrid gave him a cutting look. “I would have thought it would be in your interest on who this Drug Lord truly was.”

“Is it your mom?”

That earned one dry laugh from Eira. Ingrid kept her gaze on Malcolm, her lips twisted in a knowing smile, knowing that the identity of the Drug Lord was something he would want to know.

After all, the Drug Lord was Satoshi.

“Is that so?” Ingrid said. “Your job is to kill the Drug Lord. Is that something that is alright with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Malcolm asked.

He absolutely would want to know. Dalton was sure not going to tell him why though.

“Then, that’s fine.” Ingrid said. “I just wanted to make sure you were fine with killing such a terrible man.”

“You bet I’ll kill him, and then I’ll steal all of his drugs and sell or take them,” Malcolm said.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

Ingrid waved her hand. A portal opened underneath all of them.

“Then I suppose I don’t need to explain anything else. Good luck and goodbye.”

#

Jack was sitting at his desk, partaking some of the finest whiskey money while watching the sun rise from the east. The whiskey went down his mouth smoothly, and he closed his eyes savoring the taste. That was, until Nikolai knocked on his door and came in.

The little man was fashioned with the latest mech arm that was the size of a third of his body. His center of gravity was off, and the way he ran made Jack think of a man running with a plunger for a leg. Not surprisingly, he was out of breath.

“Sir. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“If you’re here, than you must have found Mikoto.” Jack poured himself another glass. “So, did he give a good reason why he quit after two years?”

Nikolai hesitated. “That’s the thing sir. We couldn’t.”

“You could not?” Jack repeated the words, not understanding. “Nikolai, do you know why I turn a blind eye to your department’s unsavory and weird events?”

Nikolai turned pale. “You know about that, sir?”

“The underground card playing tournament? Or maybe the goblin fighting ring? Or perhaps the death game involving go-karts and rocket shells?” Jack took a sip. “Please illuminate to me, how this is supposed to be productive?”

“The boys, they need to blow some air.” Nikolai gestured with his hand as if he were serving him a pile of lies. “They’re monsters. If they don’t get it out of their system, then they get a little too blood thirsty when they assassinate their targets.”

“I was sure they were already bloodthirsty, given the fact that all you use are trucks. Which, I must say, are not a cool way to kill.”

That seemed to have made Nikolai snap.

“It is the only way to kill someone! Every other way it garbage!” He of course, stopped after that, when he remembered he was talking to Jack.

“No, no. Please, go ahead and tell me how trucks are better. Most of our clients are suicidal, we could kill them by suicide, or simply just kill them with a gun or knife. Any way that does not involve having trucks smash humans into bloody meat pulps where we have to spend so much money and time haggling with the insurance companies of that planet. So, please tell me how trucks are superior?”

Nikolai looked like he had been slapped. He had the look of a man considering his options and the consequences of the options. So, Jack made sure to reiterate the consequences.

“Just so you know, I will shut down the spigot of money going to your transforming truck robots.”

That made him beg. “No, please don’t! How else are we supposed to have our fighting league?”

“Without any robots.” Jack said. “Now tell me what I want to know! Did you find Mikoto?”

His lips twisted in discomfort, and his eyes avoided his gaze.

“We did.”

“And?”

Nikolai closed his eyes, as if he were about to be slapped.

“We found him dead.”

“Dead?” Jack blinked. That caught him off guard. “What do you mean he’s dead? I just saw him in my office yesterday.”

“Well, that should be impossible,” Nikolai said.

“And why’s that?”

“Because he’s been dead for a few weeks.”