Chapter 336: The Risk of Being Seen
A while later, kilometers away from the decaying Dust Dogs court, the atmosphere inside Blacklist’s main training center, Hangar 47 for now, was completely different. It was almost 8 p.m., and the huge industrial structure was practically empty.
Jinzo was currently hidden in the thick shadow of a row of vending machines, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to control his ragged breathing.
His shirt was completely soaked with cold sweat, and his mouth was dry. Stress was a real bitch, and he was wondering more and more whether he shouldn’t have just run away.
But fuck it. If he was going to be a rat, he might as well see it through to the end. Hector had demanded immediate data on Blacklist’s next strategic moves, and it was up to him to steal them tonight.
Every little noise inside the hollow hangar knotted his stomach with panic. The distant hum of the ventilation system sounded like an alarm siren, and the occasional creak of the metal roof made him jump. If he got caught here, Victoria wouldn’t just fire him — she would make sure he ended up at the bottom of the river, or worse, leave him alive to savor his punishment.
Holding his breath, Jinzo stepped out of the shadows and began his search. He moved like a ghost, his sneakers making no sound on the floor. His first target was the main administrative office on the ground floor. He approached the glass door, heart hammering against his ribs. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cloned access card that Mac had managed to steal from a staff member, and pressed it against the scanner.
Click.
The little LED blinked green. Jinzo let out a trembling sigh and slipped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. The office was pitch black. He didn’t dare turn on the lights, instead pulling out a small capped penlight. He began frantically searching through the physical files on the desk, his fingers shaking so hard that he accidentally knocked over a plastic pencil cup.
The sharp noise echoed through the room.
"Shit, shit," he whispered, freezing in place for thirty seconds, eyes locked on the windows, waiting for a guard to shout. But no one came.
He moved away from the desks and targeted the main digital terminal in the corner. He slid an encrypted USB key into the port, eyes glued to the progress bar as it started downloading Victoria’s files and financial charts.
15%... 32%... 64%...
Suddenly, a heavy noise sounded in the hallway outside. Jinzo’s blood ran cold. He ripped the USB out before the download even finished, diving straight under the big desk, clutching his knees to his chin. He squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding so hard he was sure whoever was outside could hear it.
Through the gap under the desk, he saw the weak beam of a flashlight sweep across the room. It was an old night-shift staff member, muttering to himself while checking the locks. The footsteps dragged near the door for five suffocating minutes before finally moving away down the corridor.
Jinzo crawled out from under the desk, his body shaking violently from the adrenaline comedown. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, realizing he couldn’t stay in this office any longer. He had to check the upstairs offices, that was where Nash and Victoria usually prepared their plans.
He left the office and climbed the metal spiral staircase leading to the first floor, eyes constantly scanning the dark corners of Hangar 47. He reached the upper walkway, passing the darkened gym and the recovery capsules. He entered the meeting room, a space filled with whiteboards and digital screens.
He began searching the drawers, tossing aside markers and old notebooks, looking for any confidential document. He was so consumed by his frantic, paranoid search, his mind hyper-focused on the fear of getting caught, that he completely failed to notice the silent silhouette standing right in the doorway behind him.
"Looking for meaning in your life, Jinzo?"
Jinzo felt his soul leave his body. His entire body went rigid, muscles locking as a pure jolt of terror shot up his spine.
That voice. Victoria would have been the worst person he could run into... But actually... No. There was someone worse than Victoria. There was the one who gave Victoria her orders.
The worst person in the world.
He turned around slowly, face completely pale and eyes wide with horror.
Nash was leaning casually against the doorframe. He wasn’t wearing his sports gear or a fancy suit, just a simple comfortable hoodie and sweatpants. He was holding a half-eaten protein bar in one hand, looking like he’d stumbled into the room by pure chance during a late-night hunger run. His expression was completely normal, friendly, showing absolutely zero suspicion.
This was the moment to choose a religion.
"N-Nash!" Jinzo stammered, his voice rising a notch. He quickly tried to shove his hands into his pockets to hide how hard they were shaking, but he got tangled up, his elbow knocking against a whiteboard. "You... uh... God, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here so late?"
"I could ask you the same thing, man," Nash said with a light laugh, taking a bite of his bar. He walked into the room with slow, relaxed steps. "I just can’t relax before a big match. Still got all the adrenaline running, you know? Figured I’d walk around the hangar a bit to clear my head, maybe train a little at night."
"Yeah... yeah, totally, so you’re... You’re really a sports freak, huh?! Always disciplined..." Jinzo lied, his voice trembling as he forced out a tense fake laugh. He felt a thick drop of sweat slowly sliding down the side of his neck, and his stomach was turning with nausea. "Same for me. Couldn’t stay in my room. Thought I left my custom wristbands in one of these drawers after the morning session, so I came up to check."
"Ah, that works," Nash said, nodding, walking straight to the whiteboard to lean his shoulder against it. He looked Jinzo right in the face, eyes shining. "Gotta protect the wrists, man. Especially with the playoffs coming up. We’re gonna need you at a hundred percent. By the way, how’s your leg after yesterday’s defensive drills? You looked a little stiff on the lateral moves."
"Oh, it’s... it’s fine. Totally fine, Nash. Just a little tight," Jinzo blurted, his mind screaming at him to keep distance from this giant who was getting way too close, but his legs felt like lead.
Was this sleep paralysis? The demon that sits on your chest when you’re trying to wake up? Maybe he was dreaming, and Nash was that demon.
He just kept forcing a stiff, miserable smile, trying to play the loyal teammate for the first time in his life, while his guts melted under the stress.
Nash should have noticed. He should have noticed that Jinzo never spoke to him in such a friendly tone. Why wasn’t he noticing? If he noticed, it would be the most natural reaction. He needed him to notice... But Nash kept talking, casually asking about the team dynamic, the cafeteria food, and throwing out little jokes about Victoria getting super strict with the financial budgets.
He was acting so natural, so completely unaware that Jinzo was currently out of character that Jinzo started counting the seconds until his death.
Then, right in the middle of a sentence about shoe sponsors, Nash suddenly stopped talking. The friendly expression on Nash’s face vanished instantly. He stared at Jinzo in silence, then his eyes turned cold, deep, and half-closed.
The transition was so sudden, so robotic, that Jinzo’s breath completely locked in his throat. His heart stopped. He was sure this was the end. Nash knew. He was going to call Victoria or break his jaw on the spot, or both, in any order.
For five agonizing seconds, neither of them moved. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, to the point that Jinzo could literally hear the blood buzzing in his own ears.
Then, just as suddenly as it had disappeared, Nash’s big warm smile returned, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He slapped Jinzo’s shoulder with a big friendly clap, the sudden physical contact almost making the traitor jump through the ceiling.
"Anyway, it’s nothing," Nash said, his voice becoming bright and cheerful again. "I was just thinking about a weird baseline rotation we should try against the next team. My brain refuses to shut up tonight. Go on, man. Go rest. You look completely drained, your face is practically white. Don’t mess up your sleep for some wristbands."
"Yeah... for sure. See you tomorrow, Nash," Jinzo mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.
He didn’t waste a single second. He practically ran past Nash, down the metal walkway and the stairs as fast as his trembling legs could carry him, his mind completely fried by the terrifying psychological rollercoaster he had just been through.
Jinzo stepped out through the main entrance of Hangar 47, the cool night air hitting his sweat-soaked face. He took a huge, greedy gulp of oxygen, trying to calm his racing pulse. He started walking down the dark alley leading toward the subway station, but after a few hundred meters, a deep, gnawing paranoia seized his brain.
Why was Nash really here at this hour? And that silence of Nash’s... That sudden frozen look in the middle of the room. That wasn’t normal.
Did he really buy my story? Jinzo thought, his grip tightening on his jacket. What if he’s following me right now? What if he’s waiting for me to lead him straight to the Apex contacts?
The fear was too intense to ignore. Instead of heading to the station, Jinzo made a dangerous and impulsive decision. He decided to turn back. He slipped into a narrow service alley that ran along the side of the hangar, moving silently through the shadows, determined to follow Nash to see if the captain was setting a trap for him.
He sneaked back into the building through a side fire door he had left slightly open with a small stone earlier. The main hangar floor was dead silent. Jinzo crawled along the dark upper walkways, peeking down at the huge empty basketball court.
And there, bingo. He saw Nash.
The captain hadn’t left at all. He was standing right in the center of the dark court, lit by a single hanging spotlight that cast a bright circle of light on the hardwood.
And that vision, at that moment, was maybe the most terrifying thing Jinzo had ever seen. All that was missing was Nash speaking out loud and summoning 666 demons around Jinzo.
But the only thing Nash summoned was his smartphone from his pocket, the screen casting a blue, bright glow on his calm face. He started casually typing a message, taking his time, completely relaxed.
Jinzo crouched low behind a thick iron support beam on the walkway, pressing his body firmly against the cold metal. He didn’t dare move a single muscle.
Minutes began to tick by. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes.
Jinzo’s limbs started going completely numb, the muscles in his calves and thighs locking up from staying crouched in the same frozen position for so long, and his chest hurt from forcing himself to take only tiny silent breaths.
His fingers were stiff against the metal beam, completely numb from the cold draft blowing through the heights of the roof.
But he couldn’t move. The fear of making a noise left him completely pinned in place.
Suddenly, the heavy main doors of Hangar 47 creaked open. Jinzo’s eyes widened in the darkness as a silhouette entered the arena.
Another giant, a very familiar giantess: Jaz.
She was wearing a loose sports jacket, and she looked incredibly excited, a huge bright smile splitting her face as she trotted across the court toward Nash.
Jinzo stared down at her from his post, his mind completely blank with confusion. His jaw went slack.
Jaz? he thought, his brain spinning out of control. What the fuck is she doing here in the middle of the night? Why is she meeting Nash in secret like this?
Down on the court, Jaz reached Nash and immediately gave him a high-five, her joyful laugh echoing softly through the empty hangar as Nash put his phone away and smiled back at her.
From his hiding spot in the dark, completely frozen and numb, Jinzo could only watch with total confusion.