Tòumíng went back upstairs, emerging from the basement into the hallway where he'd first entered. The doors to the various rooms were mostly closed now, the earlier group having dispersed back to whatever they'd been doing before Ghost Claw's roll call.
He spotted Ghost Claw standing near the entrance, removing her gas mask briefly to wipe sweat from her forehead before replacing it. She noticed him and walked over.
"Did you and Think Tink The Tinkerer get along?" she asked.
"Something like that..." Tòumíng said diplomatically, deciding not to mention the jet fuel incident. "He's... enthusiastic about his work."
Ghost Claw nodded like this was expected. "He'll fit in well with—"
A door burst open with enough force to slam against the wall. Two figures came tumbling out into the hallway, locked in combat, fists flying, bodies crashing into each other with genuine violence rather than playful roughhousing.
The twins from earlier.
One had ginger hair, wore a black tank top, and had multiple earrings running up both ears. His face was flushed red with anger, his fists connecting with solid thuds against his opponent.
The other had a buzzcut so short his scalp was visible, also in a tank top, his stance more defensive but equally committed to the fight.
"YOU COPIED MY DESIGN!" The ginger one, Marco, based on the name patch visible on his tank top, screamed, throwing a wild haymaker that his brother barely dodged. "THAT NETWORK ARCHITECTURE WAS MINE! I SPENT THREE WEEKS ON THAT CODE!"
"IT'S PUBLIC DOMAIN METHODOLOGY, YOU NARCISSISTIC ASSHOLE!" The buzzcut twin—Polo—shot back, blocking a punch and countering with a jab to Marco's ribs that connected with a meaty thud. "JUST BECAUSE YOU DID IT FIRST DOESN'T MEAN YOU OWN THE ENTIRE CONCEPT!"
They crashed into the wall, grappling now, trying to get each other into headlocks. Both were surprisingly skilled fighters, not just wild swinging, but actual technique. Boxing fundamentals mixed with wrestling holds.
Marco managed to break free and landed a solid cross that snapped Polo's head back. Polo responded with an uppercut that caught Marco under the chin, sending him stumbling backward.
"YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!" Marco recovered and charged forward, tackling Polo around the waist and driving him into the opposite wall. "EVERY PROJECT! EVERY SINGLE PROJECT! I DO THE GROUNDWORK AND YOU SWOOP IN AND CLAIM CREDIT!"
"I OPTIMIZE YOUR SLOPPY CODE!" Polo got his hands on Marco's shoulders and shoved, creating separation. "YOUR NETWORK ARCHITECTURE HAD SEVENTEEN SECURITY VULNERABILITIES! I FIXED THEM AND MADE IT ACTUALLY FUNCTIONAL!"
They circled each other in the hallway, both breathing hard, fists raised, looking for openings. They were remarkably evenly matched, same height, same build, same training apparently.
Marco feinted left and came in with a right hook. Polo blocked and countered with a body shot that drove the air from Marco's lungs. Marco grabbed Polo's arm and tried for a throw, but Polo shifted his weight and reversed it, nearly getting Marco into an armbar before Marco twisted free.
"THOSE WEREN'T VULNERABILITIES! THOSE WERE FEATURES!" Marco was back on his feet, circling again. "FOR FLEXIBILITY!"
"FLEXIBILITY IS WHAT HACKERS CALL 'EASY ACCESS,' YOU MORON!"
They charged simultaneously, meeting in the middle with a clash of fists and grappling hands. The fight was escalating—what had started as anger was becoming genuine violence, the kind where someone was going to get seriously hurt if it continued.
Then a voice cut through the chaos. Low. Calm. Carrying absolute authority despite its quietness.
"Stop."
Both twins froze mid-punch. Literally froze, their fists still raised, their bodies going rigid like someone had hit a pause button.
Tòumíng looked toward the source of the voice.
The tall Russian woman from earlier stood in a doorway, looking down at the twins with an expression of mild disapproval. At her full height—which had to be at least six-foot-five—she was genuinely intimidating, all lean muscle and cold composure.
The twins immediately separated, backing away from each other, their anger dissolving into something closer to fear.
"We have... other things to do," Marco muttered, not making eye contact with the tall woman.
"Yeah. Important things. Code things. Not fighting." Polo was already edging toward his room.
They both disappeared through their respective doors with remarkable speed, the hallway falling silent again.
Ghost Claw gestured toward the tall woman. "Tòumíng, this is Svetlana Stalnaya. Twenty-five years old. One of our contracted bounty hunters."
Svetlana nodded acknowledgment, her expression unchanged.
"Excuse me, wait, what now?!" Tòumíng's voice rose with confusion. "What exactly IS this group? What are you all doing here?"
Ghost Claw seemed to consider how to explain. "We're an unaffiliated pseudo-gang that operates in the vigilante space. We take contracts, handle situations that fall outside legal channels, and sometimes—like with the ruby situation—we go directly against operations run by powerful interests."
Tòumíng stared at her blankly. "That doesn't clarify anything."
Ghost Claw tried again, slower. "We're a group that people hire to take care of criminals. Sometimes we work with law enforcement. Sometimes we work around them. And occasionally, we act independently when we identify threats that aren't being addressed through official channels."
Still blank stare.
"We're Private Military & Security Contractors with extra steps," Ghost Claw said, clearly simplifying as much as possible.
Tòumíng's expression remained confused.
Svetlana's low voice cut in, her accent thick but her English clear. "Is like television show. The Night Manager. Homeland, later seasons. Private operatives doing intelligence work outside official government oversight."
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Tòumíng's face lit up with sudden understanding. "Okay! That makes sense! Like a private security firm but also kind of vigilantes!"
Ghost Claw nodded, relieved the TV comparison had worked. She started pointing around the hallway, indicating different rooms.
"Lucy—the woman with purple hair you met—she's our skip tracer. Finds people who don't want to be found. Svetlana is one of our many contracted bounty hunters, but she likes it here so she's become permanent staff. Think Tink The Tinkerer is a homeless guy we found who developed acquired savant syndrome after a severe head injury. He's our Munitions & Explosives Specialist and reverse engineer, he can take apart anything and figure out how it works."
She continued. "The twins—Marco and Polo—are our cyber specialists. Marco is our Malware Analyst, handles offensive digital operations. Polo does Cloud Forensics, traces digital footprints and recovers data. They fight constantly but they're brilliant when they actually cooperate."
Tòumíng was processing, connecting dots. "So you're basically—"
"And we have others," Ghost Claw interrupted. "Surveillance specialists, interrogation experts, weapons procurement, legal consultants who help us navigate jurisdictional issues—"
"Guys!" Tòumíng's face broke into an excited grin. "This is just like Watch Dogs! You're like DedSec but in real life!"
"THIS IS NOTHING LIKE WATCH DOGS!" Ghost Claw and Svetlana said simultaneously, their voices overlapping in perfect synchronization of offense.