The dim warehouse light flickered above, casting uneven shadows along the cracked concrete walls. A man stepped forward, letting the pale glow touch his face. He was lean, all sharp angles and restless energy, wrapped in a dark overcoat that hung loose around his wiry frame. His name was Luka Vargic. In the underworld, they called him The Rat. Not because he talked. Because he thrived in the sewers of the city, digging up secrets that no one else dared to find.
His face was all bones and tension, cheeks sunken, eyes sharp and scanning. Always watching. Always calculating. His hair was a mess of tangled strands, like it hadn't known a comb in days. There was something jittery in the way he moved, like every second he spent still was a second wasted.
But Luka was more than just an informant. He had survived in this city's underbelly for over ten years by becoming essential to the people who held power. He could link names to crimes, make problems vanish, and above all, he knew how to stay alive.
Behind the nervous twitch in his fingers, behind the constant glance over his shoulder, there was a spark of intelligence. A confidence that came from knowing how to read the room faster than anyone else.
Number Nine stepped out of the shadows. His boots landed hard against the floor, each step a warning. His eyes locked onto Luka, cold and unreadable.
"You happy I showed up?" Number Nine's voice cut through the air like a blade. Low, calm, dangerous. "Since when do you send for me?"
Luka lifted his hands in mock surrender, a grin curling at the edge of his lips.
"I didn't send for you," Luka said, his voice cool. "I left breadcrumbs. Molly knew you'd follow them."
Nine stared without blinking. The silence dragged. Luka shifted from foot to foot.
"What do you want?" Nine asked.
The grin faded. Luka dropped his hands, his tone dropping with it.
"Someone's digging," he said. "Into your past."
Nine's eyes narrowed.
"And I should care because?"
Luka stepped in closer. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Because they're good. Smart. They're covering their trail, asking questions about jobs that should've never seen daylight. Stuff from over ten years ago."
Number Nine's jaw clenched.
"Who?"
"I don't know yet." Luka's voice was softer now, almost careful. "But I've got leads. And you know me. I always find the truth."
Nine stared at him for a long second. Then gave a nod.
"Keep digging. Bring me a name."
Luka smirked.
"Of course."
Nine turned away. He had taken two steps before Luka spoke again.
"One more thing."
Nine stopped but didn't turn. Luka's voice lowered again.
"The person asking about you isn't just hunting a name," he said. "They want the jobs no one knew you took. The ones buried deep."
Nine turned. Slow. His eyes sharp enough to cut through steel.
"They're not just after Number Nine," Luka said. "They want who you were before."
The echo of Nine's footsteps filled the warehouse as he approached Luka again. Every step felt deliberate. Heavy.
"You've been quiet for too long," Nine said. "And now you crawl out with ghost stories?"
Before Luka could reply, Nine lunged. One hand closed around Luka's throat. He slammed him against the wall. The air left Luka's lungs in a wheeze, but the grin was still on his face.
"You think I'm a joke?" Nine growled. His grip tightened. "You think I don't see everything?"
Luka's hands clawed at Nine's wrist, but there was no fight in it. Just that grin, wide and steady.
"We both know how this ends," Luka said through his teeth. "You won't kill me."
Nine drew his pistol and pressed the barrel to Luka's temple.
"Maybe I've changed," he said, voice steady as ice.
Luka chuckled, lips barely moving.
"That gun's empty," he whispered. "We both know it."
For a beat, they stood still. The tension was thick enough to strangle the room. Luka's smile grew cocky.
Then Nine pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out like thunder, a roar that bounced off every wall. Luka flinched, eyes wide, as a chunk of concrete from the ceiling crashed to the ground beside him.
Before he could breathe again, the cold barrel was pressed back against his head.
"How about now?" Nine asked.
Luka blinked. The fear in his face flickered. But then, something else took its place. Pride. Satisfaction.
"So it's true," Luka said, voice calm. "You're back."
Nine said nothing. His gaze bore into Luka's for what felt like an eternity. Then, slowly, he lowered the gun and slid it into his coat.
"Keep digging," Nine said. "Bring me a name."
Luka adjusted his coat, brushing the dust from his sleeves. The grin returned.
"You know I will," he said. He tilted his head, smug as ever. "Welcome back, Mr. Nine."
Nine didn't respond. He turned and walked away, each footstep sharp in the silence. The warehouse door groaned shut behind him.
Left alone in the darkness, Luka chuckled under his breath and shook his head.
"Goddamn," he muttered. "The devil's back in town."