ENTERTAIN THEM?

∆EZEKIEL∆

"If you want to win against someone like him, you need to know him first."

Madison’s voice echoed in my head as I stood outside the restricted records room, staring at the biometric scanner like it had personally insulted me.

The agency building felt colder than usual that morning, as if I were standing in a mortuary instead of an office.

The fluorescent lights hummed above me, and agents moved past with files tucked under their arms, their conversations seemed to be low and professional, their expressions remained neutral.

Everything looked normal, and everything felt wrong.

I placed my thumb against the scanner anyway.

The red light blinked, clearly indicating that my access was denied.

"What the hell…" I muttered under my breath, staring at the scanner like it had personally betrayed me.

For a moment I was dangerously close to smashing my fist into the damn thing, but somehow I managed to restrain myself.

"Come on," I grumbled, placing my thumb on it again. "Don’t act like you don’t know me.... I literally work here, you dumbass machine!"

I tried again, slower this time, as if patience alone might convince the machine to show a little respect.

The scanner blinked red again.

ACCESS DENIED. INSUFFICIENT CLEARANCE.

I stared at the message in disbelief.

"Oh, that’s fantastic," I said dryly, pulling my hand back. "Next time just say you hate me. At least that would feel honest."

The machine, unsurprisingly, had nothing to say, while my jaw tightened in frustration.

A junior officer behind the desk glanced at me with something close to pity. "You don’t have clearance for that file, Agent Ezekiel. Orders from above."

Orders from above, I almost laughed at those words.

"Above who?" I asked evenly. "Because I’m assigned to this mission.... If I don't get permission, then how on earth am I going to handle this case?"

He hesitated, being uncomfortable. "That’s all I know, I apologise, but there's nothing I can do for you."

That was the moment it truly sank in, Raymond had not equipped me.

He had not briefed me, he had not even prepared me.

He had simply pointed me toward a lion and said, walk as if he is a ring master and I'm some circus animal.

Madison’s words echoed again, but this time they felt bitter instead of wise.

'Know your enemy.'

How was I supposed to know him when I wasn’t even allowed to read his file or past data properly?

Apart from that one bar encounter, I knew nothing about him. Not his habits, not his weaknesses, not even his routine to keep an eye on him.... Then, how exactly can I get closer to him?

I stepped away from the desk, as humiliation crawled under my skin.

I was an agent sent to hunt the most dangerous man in the country, yet I had no access, no support, and no information.

Just a name, Zachary, that's all I knew.

The name that felt less like a target and more like a storm waiting to swallow me whole.

But slowly I made up my mind as it's too early to give up, "If they would not give me information, then I would find it myself."

That reckless thought followed me out of the building.

Just then, Maddison sent an address to me along with an invitation attached, "A place rumored for Zachary's presence frequently... How about you give it a try?"

This guy is an angel sent from heaven, if not because of him, what can I probably do with just a reckless thought and no actual place to go?

Taking a deep breath, I drove straight to the address sent by Maddison, from outer appearance, it's a kind of club.

This club did not resemble the bar where I had met him for the first and second time.

This one was darker, more exclusive, hidden behind an unmarked steel door and guarded by men.

They didn’t even smile, standing there like gatekeepers to hell.

The bass from inside vibrated through the pavement as if the building itself had a pulse.

I slipped inside with a forged invitation given by Maddison, and a calm expression I did not feel.

The air was thick with perfume, sweat, and something else that lingered beneath it all, something metallic and dangerous.

People moved differently here compared to the bar I visit frequently, conversations were quieter, and laughter felt forced.

Most of them were drunk beyond reason, I kept my head down and watched.

An hour passed.

Then two.

There's no trace of Zachary, but I have seen many new things and all kinds of underground dealings in this place very openly.

I saw familiar faces from underground reports.

I saw men who were rumored to be connected to trafficking, arms deals, and money laundering, I memorized everything I could.

Then I saw him.

Not Zachary, but a different man.

He was drunk, stumbling, clearly out of place. Two larger men gripped his arms and dragged him toward a dim hallway behind the VIP section.

He protested weakly, words slurring, panic sharpening as he realized no one was intervening.

"Please," he cried out in desperation. "I didn’t agree to this.... I'll clear the debt as soon as possible, my daughter is in the emergency ward, please let me go!"

No one reacted. No one cared, and somehow that reminded me of myself.

My stomach twisted.

I told myself to stay seated, I told myself this was not a part of my operation, I told myself I was not here to be a hero.

Then the man cried out again, and something inside me refused to stay quiet.

I stood up and crossed the floor before my mind could stop me.

"Let him go," I said, grabbing one of the men’s wrists.

It was a mistake, but it was too late already.

They looked at me slowly, like predators amused by prey who did not understand its position.

"And who exactly are you?" One of them asked, his voice low and entertained.

"Someone telling you to back off."

The man they had been dragging froze for a moment as their attention shifted toward me from him.

One of them looked me up and down slowly, a crooked smile spreading across his face.

"Well, well," he muttered. "What an interesting little mess we have here."

His grip on the other man loosened slightly as he tilted his head toward me.

"Since you’re feeling so generous tonight," he continued lazily, "how about you replace him?"

Before I could even react, the man they had been dragging was shoved aside like yesterday’s trash.

The poor bastard didn’t wait for a second invitation. The moment their hands left him, he stumbled away and disappeared into the crowd like a ghost escaping hell.

Only then did I realise… That was my second mistake.

"Why on earth do you always poke your nose into everyone’s business, Zeke?" I cursed silently.

My mouth really deserved its own prison sentence at this point, but they didn’t give me time to regret it.

Within seconds I was surrounded, while the man I had tried to save had already vanished, taking full advantage of the sudden shift in attention.

The hallway swallowed us, the music from the main floor muffled by thick walls.

The lighting here was dim, tinted red, casting shadows across faces that did not look human in that glow.

I gulped hard, trying to convince them, or maybe just trying to convince myself.

"Look… this is just a misunderstanding," I said quickly, forcing an awkward smile. "I didn’t mean to... I was just...."

I didn’t get the chance to finish.

One of them suddenly grabbed my collar and slammed me against the wall.

The impact knocked the air out of my lungs as pain shot through my back.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, struggling to catch my breath. "Do you even know who I am?"

"Who do you think you are, walking in here and threatening us?" One of them murmured near my ear, his voice thick with amusement. "Do you really think we care who you are?"

His grip tightened slightly, and a low chuckle brushed against my ear.

"Since you walked in to play the hero and ruined our fun," he continued lazily, "it’s only fair that you cooperate and entertain us instead."

A knot twisted in my stomach.

Entertain them?

For a brief second my brain tried to process what that even meant.

"Dude… what kind of entertainment are we talking about here?" I thought grimly.

Do they expect me to start pole dancing or something? Because if that’s the plan, they’re about to be very disappointed.

Unfortunately, judging by the way their hands were already moving, I had a terrible feeling their definition of entertainment was very different from mine.

One hand pinned my wrists above my head, I wriggled against their grip, "let go of me, you bastard!"

Another hand slid along my waist, testing boundaries.

Their laughter was low and coordinated, as if they had done this many times before.

"This kitten does not just have a beautiful face but also sharp claws!"

I struggled hard, but they were bigger, heavier, and practiced.

"Let go," I snapped, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"Or what?" Someone whispered, his breath hot against my neck. "Are you willing to fight us or spread your legs by yourself?"