Servi glanced up, meeting the Singi's blue eyes, and subtly grinned.

“Done,” she said with the softness of a falling leaf. Two swift cuts later, the Kobold’s scaleless neck had two parallel slashes so cleanly cut that it took a few seconds for it to bleed. But she wasn’t done with just that. After all, her target was still alive. Sheathing her spotless weapons behind her, she jabbed both hands into the wound she made and explored, ripping and tearing whatever she could grab like a dog digging a hole. Blood showered the front of her body, soaking and turning her clothes into something akin to a red, crimson-stained dress, and the people behind her were too stunned to acknowledge the muscle and bone slapping against them.  

Blood sputtered from the two wounds like water from a pierced pipe, indicating that he was about to meet the grim reaper. Taking out her left dagger with a hand covered in crimson, Servi carved a portion of the Kobold’s face out, almost like one would cut a cake, and lifted it up. She left a blood-filled, square-shaped crater behind, which exposed part of his white skull.  Red blood bubbled up, overflowing and dyeing his orange face in a hot, sticky mess. The liquid dripped down his throat, joining in with the blood relentlessly pouring from his slit neck. 

A red soul, invisible to all but her, flowed into her ring.  

Servi! Don’t do that! Please! It’s too much! Itarr's terrified pleading came too late.  

In a delicate manner that didn’t fit the mood, she gently positioned her thumb and index fingers and plucked the eye like one would a grape. And after ignoring Itarr again, Servi did the same with the Kobold’s other eyeball.  

The Singi, with the few people brave enough to look over Servi’s shoulders, turned away and vomited their dinner onto the floor. They were all trained and hardened warriors. They had to be since they were chosen by a Numbered, but the horrific sight happening in front of them was far too gruesome.  

“He’s not even dead...” incorrectly whispered a gray Koena from behind.  Ever-so-slightly the orange Kobold jittered and flinched, but he wasn't alive.  It was the last of his nerves firing off before they stopped for good. “I’ve never seen a Human act like this before."

The blue Singi nearby vomited again when he took the freshly excavated eyes from Servi’s hand. He looked at Servi, who remained motionless, and the red Singi. She flourished her black spear and slid the top of it across his neck, but she didn’t cut into him. Understanding what would happen if he refused, the Singi got it over with.  

He wanted to swallow them whole, but the eyes were bigger than he thought. And choking to death while eating another sapient species was at the bottom of his list of ways he wanted to die. Without a choice, tears flowed from his eyes as his sharp teeth pierced one of the forbidden snacks. It was slightly gummy with a little bit of give, like poking into a steak for the first time. Eventually, he punctured through the slight protection and crushed it, filling his mouth with a liquid similar to clear gel. Powering through it, he forced his teeth to snap through the second eye. And although he cried and wailed, he finished the task assigned to him.  

“Perfect! Just fucking perfect!” the red-eared Singi shouted. She slammed the butt of her spear into the ground. “Listen up! It’s currently a bit past 2:32 in the morning, but the night is far from over. We still haven’t even started the initiation. ‘And what is it?’ you might be asking? Well, I won’t tell you. If you sad sacks can go through that door there, you’ll come to a hallway much like the one that used to be in here. Find your number and enter inside. Your two Numbered recruiters will be inside, and they’ll give you the first task. Understood?  

“Oh, there’s no need to say this, but I’ll announce it anyway. All of you fuckers in this room now belong to the Mafia. Follow our rules and instructions, and it’ll be all hunky-dory. You’ll have dupla and all the Monotonia you could ever want. Truth be told, you get a free White Monotonia after every mission.  Refusal to follow instructions for any reason, leaving in the middle of the night without permission, or abandoning a mission or task are grounds for immediate death. And don’t even think about betraying us.  You see those fuckers up there? Imagine that sharp wire wrapped all-around your bodies while I personally skin you alive and make a fucking dress with your skin! It’s not pleasant, is it? That’s right! It’s not. And you see this corpse at my feet? That’s going to happen to you if you don’t move. Now fucking go!” she shouted into her voice loudner, and everyone moved at once and rushed to the narrow door.  

Pushing and shoving, it took more time than they wanted to admit to complete the simple task. But that probably was because the new candidates didn’t realize what would happen when they showed up. They never expected to be locked into the Mafia way of life, and the horrendous display of violence doused any fire left in their heart that fueled their desire to leave.   

But not all felt that way. It wasn't uncommon, but a lot of the new recruits wanted this. They had dark thoughts forming their minds, and having an outlet to act on those desires, like going on tasks for the Mafia, was the best release they could ask for.

Servi knew that.  She also knew that even those that seem to be the most innocent, like that blue Singi who ate the orange Kobold's eyes, often held the darkest interiors that were hidden behind a calm exterior. She spared no sympathy for anyone around her.

As Servi turned around to follow the crowd, she was stopped by a hand. Turning around again, she was face to face with the biggest smile she’d ever seen.  

“Hahaha!” laughed the Singi as she slapped her knee.  “You acted like a dog! A pitiable fucking mutt who wants nothing more than to please her master.” 

The red Singi walked forward and grabbed Servi by the chin. Leaning in close, she seductively whispered. “But luckily for you, this kitty has a soft spot for a maimed loyal dog like yourself,” she opened her mouth, sticking out her soft tongue, and licked Servi’s blood-covered neck. It was still warm and thick, almost like a paste.  

“Ahh… Seeing such blood excites me! And it’s so delicious…” she squirmed her legs together as her lower lips ripened with juice. “You know what? You and him,” she pointed to Old Man, who shuffled to the door, “are now under my command. Hey, old fuck, come here!” 

“Yes?” he replied. He walked over with the speed of someone befitting his age as his hands rested on his lower back.

“Don’t know if you can hear with those shitty things,” she tapped his ear with the butt of her spear, “but tell me who recommended you.” 

“Didn’t get his name, but he had a tattoo on his palm. And he was bald, like me. I met him at a bar, and he said to come here when I said I needed some money. Don’t really know what this whole ‘Mafia’ business is all about, but I’m no strangers to these type of things. And neither are you, apparently.” Old Man nodded towards Servi, who didn't respond.  

“Yeah, yeah, this cutesy shit can be done some other time. Follow me." Like loyal dogs, Servi and Old Man followed behind. Servi used her hands to wipe the wet crimson off of her armor and face. Even though it splattered against the floor, the red Singi leading them didn’t get mad. It was almost like she had to fight back the urge to run over and lap it up.  

“Speaking of which, what do we refer to you as?” Old Man inquired.

“My name’s Carrie, but refer to me as 9th. It's confusing since there are other Numbered with the same rank in Deset, but you two will be reporting to me from now on. If you do have to report to another Numbered, then say their number. You can rarely call a Numbered by their name. As for me, I can call other 9s and 10s by their name because I outrank them, or we're the same rank. When it comes to 8s and 7s, and so on, I need to refer to them as their number. Ah, I almost forgot something.” 

Carrie turned around and tossed her spear at the two naked men. It pierced straight through both stomachs, leaving two holes, and Carrie fought back the urge to rush to the stage and drink their falling blood. Her thrown spear reappeared in her hands when she snapped her fingers.  The weird torture contraption collapsed under the sudden difference in both weight and blood, and Carrie laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

That was the exclusive skill called Instant Retrieval, and it was given to her by Lokar, A Major God of Wind. By marking an item with her blood, she could call her weapon from anywhere by using Skill Energy. The amount required was proportionally related to the distance between Carrie and the item.  

“Wished we could’ve skinned them, but I think they were already dead. It’s only fun when you can hear your little pets' screeching. Hahaha!”  

Itarr shuddered to such a carefree and childlike laugh in response to killing someone in one of the worst ways to die. She didn’t want to fathom the thought that someone like that could be out there but became depressed when she realized the truth.  

 If this had happened when we got ambushed, then I’m sure Servi would’ve said the same thing. I have a bad feeling about all of this. Servi! Please, let’s go! Servi, I don't wanna be here anymore! Servi!!!!

---

“Like hell, I am! You know good and well that you can’t do that shit! Besides, you already have a pair to look after, don't you?”  

A bald man with a tattoo on his palm slammed his arms onto the wooden table. The room they-- Servi, Old Man, and Carrie-- were in was something akin to a barrack. A black bunk bed that had the ability to rotate the top bunk sat in the corner in something of an ‘L shape.’ Across from the door used to enter this room was another door. A small nameplate beside it said ‘Numbered.’ And other than the table the four of them were sitting at, there was nothing else.  

The floors, walls, and ceiling were all white tile, leaving the entire room devoid of nearly anything colorful. It was as if the room itself had no passion. Everything was dull and lifeless like it could be used for punishment.  

“Calm down, Meryl. You know what the rules are, right? Besides, I just so happen to be free, and Williana’s Numbered isn’t here. I don’t know if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere or passed out with his cock in a whore. Though knowing him, it’s the second one.” 

“It’s—” 

“Gods above, man, I’m trying to give you an out. Leave these two with me and go do something else!” 

“But—” 

“Fucking! Go! Already! I'm! Claiming! Seniority! 9 has more authority than 10. Leave!” losing her patience, Carrie tapped her spear against the ground with every syllable.  

“Fine! I’ll fucking go! But it’s not my fault when you fuck it up. You might be strong and fucked up, but that’s all you got!” Meryl stood up and stomped his way out, making sure to audibly slam the door.  

“Fucking finally! Alright,” Carrie stood up and broke the fourth chair with her spear before sitting back down in the one that remained, “I’ll let you know how it’s going to be from now on. One: I am your handler. You get missions from me. Two: I am your handler. You report to me. Three: I am your handler. If you fuck up, it makes me look bad. Four: I am your handler. Don’t fuck up. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Servi and Old Man said at the same time.  

“Now then, you’ll get your missions from me. Then you complete them. Then you come back. That’s how this relationship will play out. Now then, Old Man, you want to make money, yes?” 

“That’s right. That’s why I’m here.” 

“Same here. I need money,” said Servi, adding on to what Old Man said and continuing her lie.  

“Then listen up. If you two perform well enough and impress me, I can give you a chance to make a lot of money. But you only have seven days, well six now, to do it. Actually, you have five days for me to send my report to the brass. The sixth day is for deliberation. They needed to decide who to pick. But that’s then, and this is now, and you fuckers don’t need to know more than that.  What a lucky coincidence that you two so happen to need money AND joined right when there's a chance coming up to make a lot.” 

Hmm… That letter we got from John said something about an event happening seven days from now. It has to be related. But we only just chose to come here not that long ago. Maybe it’s a coincidence? But applicants? I don’t get it.  And it's not that much of a coincidence.  The letter said to lie, and from what I saw, I don't think anyone would ignore a chance to make money. Itarr said.  She tried her hardest to keep a neutral standpoint, but it was difficult.

“You’ll even have the chance to meet the Boss himself. Impress him with whatever’s going on in six days, and you can be a Numbered like me. That means a lot of money. And I mean a lot,” Carrie continued. 

The Boss, you mean the one who wrote that letter?! We might meet him?! Servi, this is great— wait, that doesn’t sound right. Why would they offer the chance to make someone who had just joined into a Numbered? If I assume a Numbered is someone in a leadership position, it just doesn’t make sense. But maybe I’m missing something. Itarr thought the situation over in her mind and concluded that there was something else afoot. And that something might be a trap, but when thinking clearly on it, it made no sense for the lure to be laid out for Servi. In their eyes, she was a lowly Rank 10.  

Servi, I’ll keep thinking about it. And if I get an answer, I’ll tell you. Maybe you'll be able to hear me by then. But with how smart you are, I’m sure you realized that this is the best chance we have to find Momo. You were right when you decided to infiltrate the Mafia. You have to do whatever you can to impress Carrie so we can be picked! 

Servi thought the same thing but came to a slightly different understanding. With her unique abilities, there was the option to sow chaos amongst her fellow Mafia members. And if she could paint everyone else in a harsh light and frame them for crimes against Mafia, that would increase the chances of being picked. Of course, she knew that her way wasn’t a guaranteed shot, but she had the overwhelming advantage.  

And she planned to use everything she could. 

“And that brings us to the missions. There’s a lot to be done, so let’s not waste any fucking time,” Claire pulled out a map and laid it on the table. Pointing to a spot marked with a ’10,’ she continued. “There’s a man that lives in this armor shop, and he hasn’t paid his protection money in a month. He’s asleep now, and he has a wife and two daughters, so he’s very vulnerable.” 

“So you want us to rough him up and get the money?” Old Man asked.

“That’s right. This fucker owes 1,366 dupla. But don’t kill this bitch or his family. This isn’t wet-work. If you want to kill, then you’ll get your chance. And as for payment. You each get 10% of the 1,366 and split half of whatever is extra. Let me say this: if you want me to put in a good word for you two, then you need to bring back more than the 1,366. Break some arms and crack some skulls if you have to, or even steal his stuff. Hell, if his wife has a necklace, take it. Take anything valuable that we can sell to get that fucking money as long as you don’t kill them.”

“Seems simple enough,” remarked Servi.  

“Oh, seems like Williana thinks it’s going to be easy. It should be. It’s a simple collection. If you fuck this up, then you forget about meeting the boss and being promoted. And don’t try to hide anything from me. The Mafia has people we call observers. Their only jobs are to report in at the bases they're assigned to. They’re everywhere, and they don’t make mistakes. And if what you report in doesn’t match word for word, then let’s say that you’ll be food for the crows after I skin you,” Carrie said.

“I see. I do believe this will be easy as well. I must admit I can be quite ‘persuasive,’” the Old Man chuckled, and Carrie laughed.  

“I had you pegged for a senile old man, but maybe you have what it takes. But that’s enough talking. Fuck off already and head to 42 Wallaby Way, and be back before the sun comes up. Oh yeah, if you haven’t ready figured it out, you two will be staying here for a month or so. When we know you are trustworthy, you’ll be allowed to find a place in town. And that means I have to fucking babysit you two jerk offs until then,” Carrie folded the map and stood up. She went to the white door marked ‘Numbered’ and walked inside. As Itarr heard the door shut, she wondered what their handler would be doing while they were away.  

“Come on, Old Man, let’s get this done,” Servi turned around and opened the door to the long hallway.  

“Very well. Thanks for that,” Old Man said, walking through the door.  

“Yeah, whatever,” replied Servi as they made their way back to the main area where Servi first met Carrie. Other than Servi scoping out the place as she wandered the halls, nothing interesting of note occurred. Servi didn’t see anyone who seemed to have information, but that could’ve been because it was so late at night. She did, however, see all of her fellow initiates walk by and join her and Old Man. But it was a silent journey. Either they were all stressed from the first job, or they were afraid and petrified for being conned into a meaningless existence as a member of the Mafia.

If nothing else, it could've been because they weren't sociable.  

Old Man tried to make some small talk, but he met resistance in the form of threats or barely audible grunts and growls. The blue Singi that was forced to eat the eyeballs was clutching his stomach closely. He managed to find the strength to look up, but hatred for Servi was all that was there.  

Servi, all of these people…the 17 of them…I wonder what their respective Numbered told them to make them join? It had to of been a super enticing offer.

After going up through the dark and dank circular staircase and passing through the first floor of Deset, Old Man let out a queer noise as the cool summer air smacked against his wrinkled skin.  

“Lassie, there ain’t nothing more comforting than a nightly breeze. Am I right?” he asked while putting a finger to his scar.  He traced it lengthwise and returned his hand to his side.

Servi sighed and turned to her left. The man who guarded the outside was gone, but the two inside remained. Everyone who had walked with her and Old Man went their separate ways, and they were alone. “I guess. Now come on, we gotta go to 42 Wallaby Way.” 

---

 The moment Carrie closed and locked the door, she jumped into the king-sized bed and stripped. The clothes she wore splattered against the hard wall. Her spear fell over, knocking down a little silver vase on a nearby mahogany table. Its shards crumbled over and fell, landing on the brown tiled floor.   

Mmmmmm!!!! She internally groaned. Her libido nearly overflowed, and she desperately wanted to satisfy it.  

Pinching her nipples and rubbing her bare breasts, she came up with a plan that would achieve the goal of a particular plaything that caught her eye.  

You want money? I’ll give you an offer you can’t refuse. Now, hurry back!  

“I can’t hold it back!!!! AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!” Her lust erupted like a volcano when she imagined her tongue licking Servi's blood-splattered face, forcing her to arch her back as she fingered herself. Her index finger rubbed her erect clit quite violently as the waves of pleasure built up at the potential fun she would be having in a short amount of time.  

Sweat dripping from her moist skin combined with the candlelight from nearby produced a most appealing sheen that highlighted the Singi’s natural beauty. Her thighs, thick and soft, pledged to be licked and enjoyed. Her toned stomach glistened like it was asking to be caressed. Her entire body yearned for a physical embrace that was sexual in nature, and it couldn’t wait. The metaphysical flame of passion couldn’t be extinguished by herself and herself alone.  

It wouldn’t be long until Servi and Old Man came back, but in her mind, the wait would be immense and agonizingly longer than anything she had ever experienced.

In a pathetic attempt to sate her desire, she rolled off the bed and rubbed her glistening fruit against the edge of the mattress. The cover's fabric was just tense and coarse enough to occupy her sexual desire, yet it didn't entirely sate her growing pleasure.