The crowd stared.
Even those who'd seen this young soldier in action before were stunned by how effortlessly he'd dropped a man twice his size.
From the crowd emerged a middle-aged man — slicked-back hair, sunglasses, a cigar clamped between scarred lips, flanked by four or five armed bodyguards. The moment he appeared, every voice fell silent. The armed men and women regarded him with visible reverence, those closest to him instinctively stepping back to clear his path.
Bryan looked up at the new arrival — the absurd styling, the theatrical entrance — and his eye twitched. He released the big man and straightened. "Norsen. Your look is as terrible as ever."
"Ha! And you're as punchable as ever, my friend!"
Norsen — the smuggler — removed his sunglasses with a dramatic flourish and pulled Bryan into a bear hug, clapping him hard on the back like a long-lost brother.
After the greeting, Norsen's gaze dropped to the whimpering man on the ground. "Looks like my boy here accidentally offended you."
Without waiting for a response, he raised a hand to his entourage. "Take him away. I don't want to see him again."
The big man, who'd been lying on the ground like a beaten dog, suddenly went rigid with terror. He couldn't die. He had a wife and child to feed.
Adrenaline surged through him. He scrambled to his knees, clutching his injured arm, and begged Norsen: "Boss, I didn't know — I'm sorry — please, give me another chance!"
Then he turned to Bryan, forehead smacking the pavement. "I was blind — forgive me — I'll never do it again, I swear!"
Neither man spared him more than a glance. Norsen genuinely didn't care — people lined up to join his operation. One expendable recruit more or less made no difference. Bryan considered it none of his business and wasn't about to intercede on a stranger's behalf.
Two men grabbed the big man's legs and dragged him away, his screams echoing down the street until they finally faded.
Bryan surveyed the crowd — noticeably larger than his last visit. "Business is booming, I see. You might have the biggest smuggling network in the whole QZ."
"Ha! You flatter me!"
Norsen threw an arm around Bryan's shoulders. "If you hadn't saved my life back then, none of this would exist."
His eyes went to the truck's cargo bed. "Now — show me what you've brought this time."
Bryan checked his watch, then led Norsen to the back. Red-taped boxes lined the interior. He drew his knife, sliced one open, and gestured. "Premium goods this round. Take a look."
Norsen peered inside. Fresh vegetables and fruit — his eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. "Now that's what I'm talking about. Fresh produce in the QZ is reserved for those corrupt bastards in the administration. Strictly rationed. People like us never see this stuff. These boxes alone are worth a fortune in supply cards."
His fingers rubbed together as he calculated the profits. As one of the QZ's largest smuggling operations, even he rarely got to eat fresh vegetables.
Bryan sealed the box back up. "Everything marked with red tape is yours. Have your people move it inside the QZ. Twenty percent is your cut. The rest — someone will come to collect. Whether they take the goods directly or convert to supply cards, they'll work it out with you."
"Got it. Standard arrangement."
Norsen turned to his people. "You heard the man! I need a dozen hands — get this unloaded!"
A team of heavyset workers stepped forward. Wade personally supervised, handing off box after box until half the truck's cargo had been transferred.
As the unloading neared completion, Norsen pulled Bryan aside — away from everyone else — and leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper.
"I picked up some fresh intel. The Fireflies might be about to make a big move. Watch your back."
Bryan's expression shifted, but he controlled it quickly. "Source?"
"Come on — you know my network." Norsen checked over his shoulder before continuing. "One of my boys overheard a Firefly operative who'd slipped into the QZ. Guy let something slip. Can't guarantee accuracy, but..." He shrugged.
Bryan filed it away. The information was vague, but the willingness to share it was worth remembering.
He'd need to find time soon to organize his emergency supplies inside the QZ. Preparations couldn't wait.
The serious business concluded, Norsen's demeanor shifted to his merchant grin. "One more thing. Someone sold me a tip the other day — says he used to be an arms dealer. Claims there's a hidden weapons cache in Tucker. Interested?"
Bryan, still mulling over the QZ situation, wasn't particularly enthused. But he kept the door open. "Just got back from the field. Give me a few days. I'll let you know."
Norsen read the deflection but didn't push. He patted Bryan's shoulder. "No rush. My people head out in two weeks. If you change your mind, you know how to reach me."
With the cargo transferred, Norsen retreated into his entourage and disappeared into a high-rise building, vanishing as dramatically as he'd appeared. His people melted away after him — within moments, the street that had been packed with armed figures was completely deserted.
Bryan climbed back into the driver's seat, reversed out, and headed back the way they'd come.
A short distance down the main road, three vehicles sat waiting — the two cargo trucks, plus a battered civilian car being towed behind one of them, its interior loaded with additional supply boxes.
The military truck pulled alongside the car. Kim and Wade dismounted without a word and transferred every box from the car to the truck bed — filling it to capacity. Not one box more, not one less.
The QZ civilians, sealed inside the cargo trucks, had no idea the convoy had even stopped, much less why.
This haul was the richest they'd ever brought back from a mission. They could have collected more — they'd had the time — but there was no point. Most of the officially reported supplies ended up lining corrupt officials' pockets anyway. Bryan's squad only needed to meet the minimum quota; everything beyond that was theirs to distribute as they saw fit. And they had no intention of padding anyone's kickback.
Kim cut the tow rope connecting the car to the cargo truck. He and Wade climbed back into the military truck.
With everything settled, Bryan signaled the convoy. The three vehicles fell into formation, and the column accelerated toward the QZ's main gate.
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