Servi was about to reply to Itarr when the door slammed open to reveal a violent Carrie. Her face, contorted and twisted in anger, had an expression Servi had never seen before on it.

“Great! Fucking great! Two more Numbered died, we got fucking attacked by sleeping gas, the two Elves fucking escaped, and even the 6th is injured.” 

Died? Not betrayed?  

Servi looked down at her ID and shrugged.  

“Easy there, 9th, what the hell happened?” asked Servi.  

“Didn’t you hear what I fucking said?! We all fell asleep because of some fucking gas the two who fucking died somehow fucking acquired! Then they go off and kill themselves?! Fuck that!” Carrie threw her arms up in exasperation.  

“Look, you said none of that when you came—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Williana!” Carrie retrieved her spear using Instant Retrieval and smashed the coffee maker. She picked up the larger pieces and threw them against the wall, shattering them even more. “Don’t you fucking realize it? This could’ve been the end of me! I WAS KNOCKED OUT! What stopped those two from fucking cutting my neck?!” 

It sounds like she cares more about herself than Deset or the Mafia. Maybe she doesn’t care that much for them after all. Really, I get the feeling she only cares for herself. Wait, she didn’t say anything about the letters. I wonder if the 6th hid them away? We should’ve made copies. 

Servi agreed with Itarr after she stole a glance at her ID. There was a chance the 6th destroyed two of the letters as soon as he discovered them, but it should be fine.  The one that mattered the most still resided in her ring.

“Well, calm down. Obviously, you aren't dead. You said they killed themselves?” 

“Why the fuck are you so calm about this? You do realize you could’ve died, too? Right?” 

Servi nodded. “I know I can die at any moment. That’s why I’m not panicking. I’m ready for it. But enough of that. The two who died provided the gas, right? Then they worked with someone who wanted to rescue Dana and Eletri. The trick is to find out who wanted to free those two.” 

“Yeah, we fucking know that already!!!!! The 6th told a 7th to put out an alert for Dana and Eletri. All of Deset’s observers are on high alert,” Carrie replied, taking a seat. She tossed her spear up on the top bunk bed and sighed.  

“Deset’s observers? What about the rest of the observers?” asked Servi.  

“Dana and Eletri were members of Deset’s Numbered. It falls to us to find them. I wanted to send this to HQ, but that fucking fake cat refused. He said it was something Deset can handle without involving anyone else,” Carrie said.  

“Don’t you think that’s a bit weird? Wouldn’t the betrayal and murder of a Numbered be worth investigating? And then there’s two new deaths and two escapees? What are the chances the 6th is in on this?” Servi said. Her mouth contorted into a sly grin as she laid the foundation. The notes were written, and the doubts were there. It was time to put her plan into action.  

“Thinking like that is what causes rifts and cracks to form in an organization. Take it from me,” Old Man said, popping into the conversation as his mind traveled back to a simpler time. He hopped off his bed and sat down at the table with an audible groan, placing his arms down. The surface top felt nice and cool on his wrinkled skin.

“I don’t care one way or the other. I’m only loyal to myself for the greater good of myself. I don’t need to wake up dead with my throat slit,” Carrie quipped. She sat down and stomped her foot, shaking the table and knocking over an empty cup.  

“I’m just saying that maybe the Mafia isn’t as organized as I thought it was. I mean, three people are dead, Deset’s been attacked, two turncoats escaped during said attack.  And you won't wake up dead.  You'll just be dead."

Carrie stood up and promptly punched the table. “SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH YOUR FUCKING WORD GAMES!!!! I know what you’re trying to do, but I have no control over it. He's the only one who can contact HQ. They're the only ones who can send out a 5th. That means the only way to investigate that fake fucking cat is through the fake cat himself. Wait, are you saying it’s all his fault? Are you really saying he broke his arm on purpose?"

“It would be the perfect plan, wouldn’t it? However, don't take my words as truth. I’m just saying be open to the possibility. That’s how I’ve stayed alive through everything I've been through. Expect and prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. That way, nothing can fucking surprise you. In this case, the worst would be the Boss himself coming to slaughter and rape all of us before burning the town and killing himself. Of course, I don’t think he would do that, so by analyzing all of the info available to me, I’ve come up with a new worst-case: the 6th is preparing for something.

"Why else would he not report it to HQ? Of course, the Boss could come and slaughter and rape us. I'm not denying that. I just think it’s less likely than the 6th betraying Deset. I’m not in any position to do anything. All I have are my thoughts, but my thoughts are how I survived my 20 years of life.” Servi had implanted a seed of doubt into her handler. She only needed it to take root. However, it was something she didn't really need in the grand scheme of things. Servi could use it, that much was true, but it wasn’t a vital element to her ultimate goal.

“Ha, and here I thought you were only good with your body. Didn’t know we had a fucking scholar,” Carrie said, laughing.  

“I’m not a scholar. Hell, I have no schooling whatsoever. I just have my mind and body. But hell.” Servi pointed to her one functioning eye, “I don’t always make the right choices. Just like you, I’m only focused on keeping myself alive.” 

“AAHH!!!!” Carrie violently scratched her red hair, drawing a bit of blood in the process. “Hearing you say all that shit is putting doubts in my mind! Why do I feel like I’m going to be fucking attacked during the mission?” 

“Speaking of that, why does that bald Dwarf hate you? And why were you praising us?” asked Servi.  

“I told you I don’t know! That fat fuck hates Singi. I was praising you two because you two were the ones who came back with the most cash. You see, every pair of new recruits went on a mission last night, or this morning I suppose, and you two brought back the most money. And as your Numbered, I fucking bragged about it every chance I had."

In that case, I wonder if that coffee machine was a gift. Itarr asked.  Servi subtly shook her head, sending lavender strands of fake hair across her eyes.

“Ah, well, my worst-case scenario sense is kicking in again. A part of it feels like he’s going to do something to fuck us up during the deal. I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but it’s just a possibility. What about this? What if that Dwarf is working with the 6th to further accomplish his plans? What if they can further their objectives by fucking up the drug deal? Since he hates Singi, it might be a way to stamp you out of the picture. Why? I don’t know.” 

“I swear to the fucking Gods above, you better be lying!” 

“Carrie, I’m just spouting what I consider to be the worst-case. Hell, the best case is the deal goes off without a hitch, and we all get fucking rich from it. Don’t just focus on the bad. As I said, expect the worst and hope for the best. Live that way, and nothing can surprise you,” Servi said, grinning like a fox. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.  

In her eyes, everything was laid out. She could see the doubts poisoning Carrie’s eyes by the second. The rusty gears in her mind spurned to life, alerting her to a new way of thinking. 

Suddenly, she flourished her spear. Maneuvering it around her body, she brought it up and struck Servi’s face with the butt of it. She fell to the ground clutching her jaw. Her finger ran over something hard and pointy, and that’s when she realized her jaw bone peaked through her pretty skin. When she tried to speak, the bone sawed through her cheek like putting a pen through paper and yanking it down.  

“What about that?! Huh?! Did you fucking think I wouldn’t attack you?!” Carrie snarled. Her eyes, terrified and wide like a frightened animal, did little more than give away her uneasiness to everyone in the room.

Servi rose to her feet and placed a hand on the back of her chair. Old Man stared with wide eyes like he wanted to do something while Carrie flourished her spear again. Picking up her ID, she shook her head no when Itarr asked if she could kill Carrie.  

“Whether you attack me or not makes no difference,” Servi said. The exposed bone went up and down with the movements of her mouth, forcing out more crimson to paint the table and her clothes. Her jaw, no longer aligned with the rest of her face, forced her words to come out muffled and slurred. “If they planned to kill or attack you, then my death wouldn't prevent anything. Why not keep me alive and use me as a shield? If they try to attack you, push me towards them and run away with your own life.” 

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” Carrie shouted. “Shut the fuck up and follow me! Old Man, hurry the fuck up!” She stomped towards the door and slammed it open.  

Without saying anything, Servi and Old Man followed along, but they made sure to keep a few steps between them and their Numbered.  

“You need a rag?” he asked, pulling out a small cloth from his pockets. The not-so-insignificant amount of blood he saw did little to calm his growing fear.  

Servi shook her head and pinched the exposed bone, snapping it off. She stared at the piece, no bigger than a few centimeters, and tossed it behind her. The pathetic noise it made was drowned out by the heavy stomps of an angry Singi. 

“I take that as a no,” Old Man replied. He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets.   

I take it you don’t want me to heal it, so I’ll prevent it from getting any worse. If you do receive healing, I’ll fix it. Is that okay? 

Servi looked down at her ID and nodded before hugging it close.  

As of that moment, Itarr was the very last thing that prevented Servi from losing her mind. It was ironic. At first, Servi’s soul monopolized any control Itarr used to have on her. Now? Itarr was the one who kept Servi sane. It was her presence that prevented Servi from falling victim to her growing desire to let loose the dogs of war and slaughter everyone around her. 

Because as of that moment in time, Momo did not exist inside Servi's thoughts.

“I take it the Human couldn’t keep her shitty little mouth shut? Had to have the shitty cat shut you up?” Baldy mocked the pair, embodying the idiotic Dwarven stereotype with the lack of variety in his insults. He slammed his large stomach, laughing like a madman.

Servi stayed quiet and sat down.  

The usually quiet atmosphere was nowhere to be seen.  

It looks like Warden’s lobby when everyone’s getting ready for a quest? Itarr wrote. Servi felt her ID wiggle and glanced down.   

Baldy didn’t like it. “Human bitch! Eyes on me when I’m fucking explaining things to you, yeah?” he pounded her ID, crushing it into dust. Then he opened his hand and smacked the already injured girl in the side of the head. If her wig and eyepatch weren't fused to her scalp and face, they'd flown off. She fell sideways, her noggin landing on Carrie’s lap as the rest of her body slid off her chair. Servi's chin rested against Carrie's soft thighs, but the Singi looked down with so much disgust. 

The growing anger did nothing but well up inside Servi's body. Pushing against the tiled ground, every bone in her left hand broke four times.

Carrie grabbed Servi’s hair and pushed her away.  Servi didn't try to protect her head, allowing it to slam into the floor unaided. Subtly, she formed a fist so hard her fingers punctured her palms. The self-inflicted pain did little to calm her down, but it was enough.  The bald Dwarf and Earth Elves laughed and pointed.  

“Bossman, don’t kill her now,” cried Oaklin. “She can still die for us, yeah?” 

“Bwhahaha!!! That she can!” Baldy snickered.  Oaklin and Daki joined in, laughing at Servi's pitiful state.

The friendly chuckle the trio shared didn't make any sense. To Servi, who tightly gripped the back of her chair as she stood up and sat back down, eyes glaring, she knew Baldy hated the Elves. Or if not hate, then he held a vast amount of displeasure towards them.  Something must've lit the lantern of friendship in the time before the two groups reconvened.

“It doesn’t matter... It doesn’t matter... It doesn’t matter… They're all going to fucking die...” Servi croaked under her breath. Not even Carrie picked up on her repetitive words, even though she had the best hearing out of all of them.  But it wasn't like she was actively listening to the wounded girl, either. 

“This here is what’s gonna be sold,” Baldy said. He gripped the handle of a black briefcase and slammed it on the white table. It almost buckled underneath the sudden weight.  Opening it, he revealed three smaller glass boxes filled to the brim with the three types of Monotonia.  

“There’s a lotta money riding on this deal, so I’m actually giving you four a fucking chance to show us you’re fucking worth it. If anyone of you fucks it up, I will kill you. It won’t be painless, either. I will take you up to the 6th’s private torture chamber and use every fucking tool he has at his disposal. Human bitch, that goes double for you. Try not to fucking bleed out.” 

“Got it,” she replied. Baldy laughed at her decrepit state, poking her visible bone as if it was a fun game.