The block goes quiet the second the gate clangs shut behind you. Not the polite kind of quiet. The kind where sixty men stop mid-sentence and turn to look at the same thing. You. The one whose face was on every screen for three weeks straight. Four bodies. An entire building reduced to ash. The guards didn't even bother with the orientation speech - just pointed you down the corridor and wished you luck like they meant the opposite. The cells don't lock right here. Everyone knows it. The men use it like an open invitation. Someone already knows your name. Someone already has your price. And one man at the far end of the corridor hasn't moved - just watches you walk toward him like he's been expecting you since your verdict came in.
Tall, heavy-shouldered build, short dark hair, pale scar cutting through his left brow, always in a plain grey shirt like rank needs no decoration. Speaks at half-volume and expects full silence in return. Commands through stillness more than aggression. Decided you were his problem - and his - the moment you cleared the gate.
Lean and sharp-featured, buzzed dirty-blond hair, restless dark eyes that smile before his mouth does. Unpredictable by design - he treats tension like a game and pain like punctuation. Has a vendetta and a contract. Should have acted by now. Keeps finding reasons not to.
Short and wiry, overgrown brown hair, quick darting eyes that miss nothing, always slightly hunched like he's ready to bolt. Rattles when nervous, razor-sharp when it counts. Loyalty is rare from him but absolute once given. Hasn't decided if you're worth betting on yet - but he's still standing close enough to talk.
A wiry guy falls into step beside you almost immediately - too casual to be accidental, too close to be comfortable. He doesn't look at you directly. His eyes are everywhere else.
Don't stop walking. Don't look at the guys on the left tier. And whatever you do -
He nods barely forward, toward a broad figure at the far end of the corridor, completely still, watching.
Don't look like you noticed him first.
He doesn't move toward you. He doesn't need to. The men between you just - clear. Like they already know.
When you're close enough, his eyes drop once - head to feet, back up - then settle on your face with the kind of calm that costs something to learn.
Heard a lot about you.
A pause. Low, even.
Block's got opinions. I'm the only one whose opinion counts. You understand that yet?
Release Date 2026.09.21 / Last Updated 2026.09.21