Chapter 362: What Goes Around
Miles away, in the pretrial detention wing of Sector 16, Harlan sat on the edge of the bottom bunk. His wrists still bore the marks of the handcuffs, his face empty. The cell smelled of cold metal and sweat. Three other inmates already occupied the space.
An hour earlier, two guards had stopped in front of the bars. One of them had spoken in a deliberately too-loud, casual voice, addressing his colleague but loud enough for the entire cell to hear.
"That one... Harlan Reiss. He kidnapped an Apex executive last night. Tied her up in a warehouse and raped her. The police walked in while he was still going at it, and the bastard even insulted her afterward."
He had tapped the bars twice with his keys.
"Yo, ugly. You know the house rule for dogs in heat? What a dog does outside, we give back to him inside. Well, you’re about to understand."
Then the two guards had left. Their footsteps faded down the corridor.
Now the silence was total.
The biggest of the three inmates stood up first. He approached slowly. His two companions followed. One of them slipped a hand into the front of his shorts, adjusting something obvious. The other did the same, a smile on his lips.
The big one stopped right in front of Harlan.
"We heard you, my guy," he said in a low voice. "Congrats. You made it."
He tilted his head slightly.
"But you like to fuck, huh? ’Cause so do we."
The three men took one step forward. Their hands stayed on their shorts. The intention no longer needed to be spoken.
Harlan jumped up and pressed himself against the bars, fingers gripping the cold metal.
"Hey!" he shouted, his voice already broken. "Hey! Is anyone there?! HELP ME! GUARD! GUARD!"
His voice echoed down the empty corridor.
Outside, the two guards had just left the building. The door closed behind them with a dull thud, sealing the fate of the filthiest of rats.
No one answered. No one had time or pity for a rat in jail. Harlan screamed, but nothing would stop the horror that was about to begin.
That night, in cell 14 of the pretrial detention wing of Sector 16, Harlan Reiss learned a hundred times over what he had done to Monique.
And this time, no one came to stop it.
The next day, in the bathroom of the villa, Saya stood in front of the mirror, a pair of scissors in her hand, studying her own haircut. She had already cut off a good length; the strands lay in small piles on the tiles around her bare feet.
Dahlia poked her head through the half-open door and stopped short when she saw the scene.
"Wait," she said, stepping fully inside. "What are you doing?"
"Changing things up a little," Saya said without turning around, continuing to cut methodically. "I was tired of this hairstyle. Too many memories stuck in it."
Dahlia leaned against the doorframe, watching Saya’s reflection in the mirror.
"You’ve got time to give yourself a makeover, but not for a simple ’no’? Because let’s be honest—you’re not going to be on the court for the match against the Dust Dogs, right?"
Saya shook her head gently and finally set the scissors down.
"No. I can’t go back there. Not yet. Maybe never, honestly."
"That’s understandable," Dahlia said. "After everything you went through over there."
"Ma’am offered me something," Saya added, turning toward her at last, a cautious spark of interest in her eyes. "A different role. Not on the court, but still useful—so I can pay my debt."
"What exactly did she tell you?"
"Not the details yet," Saya said, a slight smile appearing on her face—the first in a long time that seemed genuinely sincere. "But she had that look, you know, the smile she gets when she’s planning something big... or something bad. Either way, anything’s better than going back there. I feel so good here I could sleep right on the tiles."
Dahlia let out a small laugh.
"Yeah, it’s a multi-million villa after all. The tiles here are better than the beds in some motels."
In the office he had claimed on the second floor of the villa, Nash sat with his feet on the windowsill, mentally going back over the last lines of the system he hadn’t yet taken the time to fully explore.
Access Unlocked — "The Vacant Throne."
He frowned slightly, focusing on the notification, and almost immediately felt a weight materialize in his right palm.
A heavy, old silver keyring, along with a carefully folded stack of documents, appeared literally between his fingers as the system translated the abstract reward into real physical objects.
He unfolded the documents, quickly scanning the lines—a property deed, an address in the central sector, a brief description of the premises.
The system’s most surprising reward: a mansion.
Former headquarters of a fallen Underground baron, apparently abandoned for years, now officially in his name.
"How does this kind of thing even work?" he wondered. Was it a real baron who had actually existed, or had the system just invented and inserted a piece of history into real life? Either way, he had a signed property deed in his name. A satisfied smile appeared on his face. "I’ll go check it out later."
He put the keys and documents away in a drawer and stood up. There was something far more urgent to deal with before thinking about real estate.
The short court at Hangar 47 already echoed with the familiar sound of basketballs bouncing on the hardwood when Nash arrived in the afternoon.
Nia and Alicia were running through shooting drills, their movements fluid and synchronized, while Jaz, a little farther away, worked on her footwork under the basket, her imposing frame casting a long shadow on the floor.
Mac, leaning against the fence with the three NPCs, occasionally threw dirty looks toward the group of girls, muttering something under his breath that his three sidekicks approved with synchronized nods.
"Nash!" Alicia called first, rushing toward him while clutching the ball, a big smile on her face. "Where were you all night? We heard some crazy stuff—"
"Nash," Nia said, approaching in turn with a more discreet but just as sincere smile, wiping sweat from her forehead.
Jaz abandoned her ball as well and walked over with a heavy but joyful step, a warm smile lighting up her face.
"We were all worried," she said. "Like, really."
"Sorry," Nash said, a calm smile appearing as he looked at all three of them. "Long night. Very long, actually."
Over by the fence, Mac crossed his arms, whispering something to one of the NPCs, who nodded vigorously, a contemptuous little laugh escaping him.
"Listen," Nash said, now addressing the group of girls, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Things are going to get a little different soon. There was movement last night, and—"
He didn’t get to finish the sentence.
The hangar door swung open with a bang. A dragging step echoed across the floor.
Jinzo walked in slowly, his face covered in thick bandages, one eye still half-closed under the swelling, his jaw clearly still painful with every movement.
Everyone stared at him, shocked.
Mac straightened up at once and rushed toward him, the three NPCs on his heels.
"Jinzo, man," Mac said, looking panicked, grabbing his arm. "What the hell happened to you? You look like a zombie. Who did this to you?"
Jinzo pulled free from his grip, his good eye locking directly onto Nash.
"Him," he said, a trembling finger pointed at Nash. "He’s the one who did this to me."
Silence immediately fell over the court. Nia and Alicia exchanged an uneasy look. Jaz stiffened slightly.
"Wait," Mac said, turning toward Nash, his face twisted. "You did that to Jinzo? Like, you just beat him up like that?"
"After everything you already put him through... What’s your problem, you damn monster!" one of the NPCs added, his voice rising a notch, courage borrowed from the group. "He didn’t do anything to you!"
"Yeah!" a second one piled on, louder now, emboldened by the others. "You don’t get to treat people like that just because you’ve got muscles and a team of slave girls at your command!"
Nash stayed silent for a moment, watching Jinzo with a calm that contrasted violently with the growing agitation around him.
"You want to tell them why," he said finally, addressing Jinzo directly, "or would you rather just play the victim?"
Jinzo froze, mouth half-open.
"Go ahead," Nash continued. "Do what you do best. Go leak the story to the media, like you did with the Baby-Boom leak. Tell everyone exactly what happened."
A leaden silence dropped over the entire hangar.
Alicia let the ball she was still holding against her hip fall to the floor; the dull bounce echoed in the total silence. Nia froze completely, her eyes moving slowly from Nash to Jinzo, then to Mac, pure disbelief spreading across her face.
"The—" Jaz took a step forward, her voice tight. "The leak? The one that wrecked the whole team for weeks? The one that made us lose the Baby-Boom?"
"It was you?" Nia said, her voice rising sharply, almost a shout. "It was YOU TWO?"
Mac backed up a step, hands raised in front of him, his face completely drained.
"No, no, wait, it’s— it’s not what you... It was just supposed to be— we just wanted to—"
"Just what?" Jaz hissed, her voice low but loaded with a cold anger that contrasted violently with her usually warm presence. "Just sell us out? Just sell the entire team for your little personal revenge against Nash?"
"It wasn’t against you!" Mac finally shouted, almost panicking now, his desperate gaze searching for support from Jinzo, who remained silent, jaw clenched. "It was— it was just—"
"How did you—" he finally stammered, turning to Nash, his voice trembling. "How do you know that? No one knew, we were so careful, how—"
"Ask Jinzo. He should have an idea," Nash said simply, without even raising his voice.
Jinzo stayed silent a moment longer before the rage took over again, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Fine," he finally spat, his voice shaking. "Fine, you want to play it that way? I’m leaving. I’m quitting this shitty team tonight. I don’t give a fuck anymore."
"Jinzo—" Mac began, panic clearly cutting through his voice.
"Fine. Take Mac and the three other placeholders with you," Nash said, without the slightest trace of concern. "And while you’re at it, try leaking that too."
A shocked silence fell over the group of boys. Mac and the three NPCs exchanged panicked looks.
"You think this ends here?" Jinzo hissed, a bitter, vengeful smile stretching his injured lips. "I’m going to tell everyone what you really are. The kind of team you are. What people risk by playing for you. No one—you hear me, NO ONE—will ever want to wear a Blacklist jersey again after what I’m going to say. You’re finished. You won’t be able to recruit a single guy in the entire Underground."
Nash stayed silent for a moment, a slight smile appearing on his face, almost amused despite the situation.
"Oh? For once you’re halfway correct. Not a single guy—but we already have the next members of the team," he said simply.
Jinzo blinked, momentarily thrown off, before shaking his head. "Liar."
"Not a liar," Nash said. "Just ahead of you, as usual."
A different silence fell this time. Mac and the NPCs looked at each other, unable to decide whether to believe it or not, while Nia, Alicia, and Jaz watched the scene with growing confusion.
"Liar! Liar!!! And then fuck it!!!!" Jinzo said, his voice trembling. "Whoever you find, they’ll know what’s waiting for them. I’ll make sure of that personally."
"I’m pretty sure they’re really enjoying the prospect. So am I," Nash said without flinching.
"Who is it? Tell me who it is! WHO!" Jinzo shouted, taking a step forward, desperate now.
"Find out like everyone else," Nash said calmly. "I’m not spoiling the surprise."
Jinzo clenched his teeth, shaking his head, clearly refusing to believe it, still insisting.
"No, no, you’re going to tell me, I have the right to know who is going to—"
Nash took a step forward. The tension rose at once.
"You already want your second lesson?" he said, his voice still even, but something harder now cutting through the apparent calm.
Jinzo froze completely, his breath cut short, an involuntary step taking him backward.
Nash stared at him a moment longer before slowly turning his head toward Mac and the three NPCs, still clustered behind him, all four pale.
"I warned you," he said, addressing them directly. "That day has come. You no longer have a place here. So, like I told Jinzo yesterday—leave. Leave and never come back."
A deathly silence fell over the hangar.
Jinzo gritted his teeth, his already bruised jaw contracting painfully with the effort. His gaze slid toward Jaz, bitter, almost pleading despite himself.
Jaz, a little unsettled by that look, finally returned a cold stare, without the slightest trace of pity.
"FUCK!" Jinzo finally roared, turning on his heel brutally, his voice breaking on the word. "FUCK! FUCK!"
He left the hangar in long, angry strides without looking back.
The three NPCs exchanged a quick look among themselves, then followed, silent, their dragging steps betraying their own uncertainty.
Mac stayed a moment longer, alone, his gaze moving from the door to Nash, a confusion that was almost pleading twisting his face, as if he were still waiting for an exit, a sign that this wasn’t really ending this way.
Nash simply nodded toward the door.
"Shit," Mac muttered, his voice broken, before lowering his eyes and following the others, his shoulders hunched, disappearing in turn behind the gate.
Silence settled back over the hangar, broken only by the distant sound of their footsteps fading away.
Nash remained still for a moment, staring at the empty doorway, before finally turning toward Nia, Alicia, and Jaz, who had stayed silent for a long time, still in shock from everything that had just unfolded.
"Well, I know you packed your bags not long ago, but... you’re going to move again."