I apologize to Akiko. I don't have time for this right now...

Night falls with a harsh freeze that cuts through clothes and burns exposed skin. The snow is heavy, and blankets are already piled on the sidewalk. Across the street, the museum-turned-studio stands as a dark shadow without its lights.

Before leaving the hotel room, you gathered much of your original equipment. The deal would be happening at a brawling distance, so you grabbed your prized Mexican MPL on the way out.

You look around and figure out most of Dead Wood is dark. The lights are off, except for a few scattered buildings and lone street lamps. Along the walls, you see groups of 3 or 4 men chatting as they keep watch on the exterior.

Behind you is the dirty money of your side quest. Inside your mind is Mikka's crocodile grin and worry about Zuprik as your wingman for the job. You’re playing along, but you can’t help but feel like this could be what puts you in the dirt.

You’re in your coal-black uniform again. The worn leather boots and enveloping hug shield you from the intense weather of a northern fall. Your old gear clings to you with raw familiarity, but you don’t linger on how it brought you to where you are, just where it was leading you now.

You start walking through the ankle-deep blanket of snow, slowing you down slightly, before a little voice stops you from the alleyway of the hotel and the connected store. “Scarlet’s somewhere, and I’m nearby.”

It’s Kenji, but when you turn to face him, he’s nothing more than a dark blob that’s blacker than the shadows he’s tucked away in. You might've missed him entirely if it hadn’t been for the ambient lighting.

“Thanks,” you say, looking around. Roof tops, walls, shadow pockets, you look everywhere but don’t feel like you’re being watched somehow. You suppose it means you’re in the clear, or you’ve gone rusty. How could you not be watched? “Scarlet’s here?”

“Somewhere,” Kenji responds. “Keep walking so you’re not just standing there. Just know you got eyes in high places.”

“Didn’t take you as the religious type,” you reply, walking with the crunch of snow beneath you.

Kenji is quiet and doesn’t reply, so you don’t slow down. You feel calm, and the eerie silence surrounding you brings you a sense of peace. This is a false sense of security that denies even the slightest twist in your stomach. The night is so young, and you can still feel the minty freshness from your toothpaste.

You walk to the northern wall, where darkness sinks heavier than anywhere else. The tall buildings and overhangs from the roofs prevented much of the new snow from reflecting the streetlights, which light the area. You’re not alone here, though. Kenji and Scarlet were somewhere, but in front of you was the unmistakable frame of Zuprik. His overweight face was briefly shown as he lit a cigarette. “We’ll have to walk out a little way. Our pickup is outside the gate. For privacy concerns.”

“I thought that’d happen,” you say, the weight of your weaponry briefly being registered in your mind. “Lead the way, Zuprik.”

“Of course,” he sighs, but doesn’t move. “Let me finish this first. You want a smoke?”

Unlike the guard from a few nights before, your mind has no options—just a quick denial. You had to be sharp and dialed in for the job ahead. There was no telling which direction this could go. “I’m fine,” you say. Zuprik shrugs and continues to let out little clouds of nicotine.

It takes him a few breaths to finally get moving, but he does; you’re not far behind him. There’s a loose piece in the wall that Zuprik uses and slips through. In seconds, you’re outside the walls and marching towards a forest lit by the reflecting snow.

The shapes of the trees and foliage are bathed in a neutral yet dark light, revealing more detail than their outlines alone. Aside from mute breathing, there’s the ever-present sound of the snow crunching under your feet, paired with the occasional muffled snap of a stick buried under all the white.

As you walk deeper into the forest, you can’t help but feel somewhat exposed to the elements and isolated from the others. Scarlet, if she was even there, and Kenji, who would have difficulty following you without being heard or even seen. Anything not white stuck out like it wasn’t natural.

The earth below you shifts sharply down to a steep incline, and now you’re walking into the mouth of a cave with a trail. The path is gone, beneath all the new snowfall that’s shifted all the hues to just a few simple pallets of white, off-white, and different-whites. The cave you’re walking towards is large, and the snow is gradually replaced with soft brown colors from the mud. Gravel, rocks, and stone replace the snow’s crunching sound with a shuffling scuffle from your boots. You swing your weapon into your hands and look over Zuprik’s shoulder. It didn’t feel wrong, but it wasn’t entirely correct either. It was too dark inside to tell who or what was standing there, looking back at you. All you knew for sure was that Zuprik was coming to a stop and was now stuffing his hands into his pockets to pull something out. A gun? No, you watched a flashlight's long and slender handle come out before flicking on.

A woman in dark blue clothes stood there, blonde and pale – she squinted as Zuprik shoned the light on her face. “Come on, if I were the enemy, I would’ve shot you,” she complained, a rifle in her other hand.

Zuprik stepped forward while she stepped back. “You got what we ordered?”

“No, I came here empty-handed,” she said, then snapped. “Of course, I have your stuff. Why else would I be here?”

Zuprik grumbled. “Where is it then?”

“Where’s the money?” The girl said, her green eyes flicking to you. “And who’s that?”

“Call it backup,” Zuprik said, producing a white envelope and handing it to her.

“Have we offered any negative feelings for you to bring back up?” The girl took the envelope and pulled out the cash, thumbing through it.

“Never know in these parts, when the weather is this bad…” he trails off, watching her count.

The girl scoffs. “You’re short by 500 hundred,” she glances up and whistles a tune.

“It’s all there, unless you made a last-minute adjustment to the delivery,” Zuprik says, glancing back at you. You guess this is where things go sideways —the reason for the killing. It’ll be loud inside the cave; every shot will be a trumpet blast for the town to hear.

The girl glances at you and then over her shoulder as other figures appear. “You’re short 500 dollars on the original payment. The last-minute changes wouldn’t have affected this meeting.”

Zuprik laughs under his breath. “Can believe this. Are you accusing me and Mikka of being dishonest?”

The girl lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed entirely as she’s flanked by two of her own. “I’m accusing you of not being able to fucking count. I would have reduced the material if all you did was say it was a mistake, but now I think you’re just trying to short-change me on the value of the bought product.”

Zuprik shakes his head, placing his hand on his sidearm. “What if I said we’d pay the rest after we find out whether it works? This type of… product often has bad batches.”

Again, the girl scoffs, her irritation becoming a fixed expression on her face. “You’re looking to get killed now, aren’t you? Quality control is what makes us jack up our prices in the first place. Human-tested on the spot, per-delivery. I realize that because you’re in a company, you might not realize how much that sets us apart from the other smugglers in the area, but I guaran-fucking-tee you aren’t getting this kind of quality!”

As things get heated up, you figure it’s only a matter of time before something happens. Zuprik knows you’re supposed to help him kill these guys, but you also know this might be the best chance to frag Zuprik.