Chapter 17 – Orange uniforms
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On a large bed with smooth satin sheets, a large, fierce-looking well-built man grabbed his forehead and groaned as he was woken up by the sound of loud beeping from a desk beside the bed. The sheets fell down as he got up half-way and revealed his bare muscles, “...What do you want?” he growled at the radio after pressing on the button to answer.

“Boss, we got people here. They got a gun.”

“Guns? Is it the police? Military? How many are there?” The man spoke with an arrogant tone, clicking his tongue as he found the matter troublesome.
“Just one, but we don't know, they might have more concealed. It's just civilians boss. Three adults and one kid.”

He let out a wicked smile and revealed gaps from his missing front teeth, “Civilians? Heh— That makes things easier. Bring them here.”

“B-But boss, t-they got a gun!”
“Are you stupid? Threaten them with the kid. Besides, if they really are civilians, they wouldn't dare point firearms at other people.”

“G-Got it, boss.”

“And don't forget. You have skills, use them. Now, don't call me again unless you have them with you.”

“R-Right, will do, boss.”

Releasing his thumb from the radio's receiver, he placed it back onto the desk. The sheets behind him moved and the arms of a woman emerged to embrace his waist. A soft voice seductively whispered into his ears, “—Come back to bed, it's cold.”

The man didn't immediately reply, he brought his hand up to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Maybe it's the cold, but the scar on my nose f—ing itches.” he thought, before turning around and eagerly answering the woman's call with a mischievous face.

Rough creaking coming from the bed began to echo past the walls of the small room along with moans of pleasure and heavy panting coming from the woman. A moment later, loud beeping interrupted them and caused the man to scoff, bringing out a look of great irritation, “You better have a good reason for calling again.” he snapped at the radio receiver.

“W-We have a problem! They've also got skills! Boss, you gotta come help, they got no. 207 and the others!”

“What!? Are you sure they're civilians? How could you guys be done in by a couple of civilians?”

“I'm not sure about the guy with the gun, but I'm positive about the others. Boss, I managed to snag the kid. What should I do?”

“F—ing hell, do I have to wipe your guys' asses every time? Bring the kid here. If they care about him, they'll come looking. If they don't, just get rid of him.”

“But boss, what about the others?”
“Forget them. I'm sure they'll be spillin' everything by now.”

“A-Alright, boss—“

The man shut off the receiver and stood up from the bed. Kicking the desk in a bout of anger, he shouted, “F—ing idiots!” and proceeded to spit out other curses.

Hanging loosely on a chair by the corner of the room was an orange prison jumpsuit, there was a tag on its left breast with six numbers. The first three numbers on a prisoner's tag usually indicated the prison's area code. The proceeding three numbers then indicated the level of the prisoner's crimes. Levels one to four ranged from petty theft, assault, fraud, and the like.

The man picked up the suit and proceeded to put it on, the tag on his chest read 2-1-1-5-5-1, a level five prisoner. Confined behind bars due to more serious felonies like kidnapping, arson, rape, and murder, among others.

The woman left lying limp on the bed spoke with a smile, “no. 551, where are you going?”

“Gettin' ready to greet some potential guests.” He replied, and left without sparing her naked body another glance.

The woman's smile disappeared after the man left the room, scorn soon arose and took form from her expression as her body disappeared into a mysterious cloud of smoke. Sitting on the corner opposite of the chair, in a similar fashion to how the woman disappeared, appeared another female with the same but younger features. Her eyes looked dull and listless as she drew circles on the floor whilst resting her chin on her knees.

Slowly, she turned her head to the door where the fierce-looking man had left and stood up— her body dissolving into another cloud and reappearing as the woman from earlier. Her clothes, an orange prison outfit, followed her change in appearance with the tag number 2-1-1-1-2-5. Going by her tag, she would now be called no. 155.

...After a few minutes of waiting, no.125 followed the man out of the door and into the second-floor terrace of the lobby of the building. It was a huge space with white marble tiles, as well as large glass doors and windows.

Overlooking the first floor, she saw people downstairs— groups of them huddled in different areas. The people who were dominant in numbers but looked ragged and scared were wearing civilian clothing. They were seated on the floor under orders from the group wearing orange standing over them.

Shrunk down and afraid, their fear came not from the men watching them, but from the man sitting leisurely on a couch, anticipating the arrival of his lackey who had just entered the lobby, stumbling with a struggling boy in his arms.

The boy bit the man's arms and shouted fearlessly as his mouth was freed, “You—You bad people! Let me go! Big bro Yeung will beat you up for this!!!”

“F— brat! You bit my hand!”

Seeing the lackey hit the boy to silence him, the man on the couch— the man with the tag no. 551 stood up and crouched down next to the boy. He brought his right hand next to the boy's face and a small flame appeared, enveloping it.

He then said with a wicked smile, “I'd like to see him try.”

*

“Dammit! These bastards! They just had to bring these pigs along with them! Hey, you!!! Wake up!”
After dealing the final blow to an orc, Song Yeung turned to face three men lying on their bellies with both hands tied to their back. He wondered how his friend, Dokk, could conveniently pull out this many ropes for tying people up from his bag but he knew now wasn't the time to ask.

He slapped one of them awake, “Hey man, where'd you take the kid?” he asked with a threatening tone.

The man wearing an orange prison uniform spat out a bit of blood from his mouth onto the concrete pavement and answered, “F— you!”

Yeung slapped the man once more on his face, rendering him unconscious. He spoke to Lee Dokk who was sitting on one of the convicts tied down, “Dokk, looks like we're going on a detour after all,” he then turned to a worried Anna Wilson and reassured her, “We'll get him back, we'll get Chris back.”

Dokk replied with a serious nod and Anna with silence. Yeung didn't know what else to say. He didn't expect to suddenly meet up with a bunch of people, much less convicted felons. Makes sense that they would adapt to the change of this world faster than normal people, he thought.

Announcement
Been sick with something the past week and I couldn't write. Apologies.
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