Kínitos squinted, something nagging at the back of his mind. That face. The way he moved. He looks familiar. And then it clicked.
The Vietnamese shop. The gunfire. The man who'd fled with his bodyguards while bullets tore through the street.
"That's him," Kínitos said quietly.
Monty followed his gaze. "Who?"
"The guy from this morning. The one running from the store when everything went to shit." Kínitos's jaw tightened. "What the hell is he doing here?"
The modded car pulled away from the curb, engines purring low and powerful. It disappeared down the street, bodyguards still flanking it on foot for half a block before peeling off.
The woman noticed them staring. "You know him?"
"Not exactly," Kínitos said. "But we saw him earlier today. He was at another location tied to the Saint Patro."
Her expression darkened. "That's Marco Delgado. He's one of the Saint Patro's top guys. Handles their weapons deals." She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "If he's here, it means something big is going down tomorrow."
Monty exchanged a look with Kínitos.
"Weapons deals. High-tech gear. That's what we're tracking."
"Yeah." Kínitos pulled up his watch again, checking the mission details. "And if he's involved, that meeting tomorrow isn't just intel-gathering. It's the real deal."
They said goodbye to the woman, watching her slip back into her apartment building. She gave them one last uncertain look before closing the door.
"Alright," Kínitos said, eyes locked on the direction the modded car had gone. "We need to follow him."
"On foot?" Monty asked skeptically. "That car's already gone."
"Then we find a ride."
They took off running, weaving through the narrow streets of District 18. The modded car's engine rumble was still faintly audible—distinctive, deep, impossible to miss.
They rounded a corner and spotted a taxi idling near a corner store.
Kínitos yanked the back door open. "We need you to follow that black car. The one with the heavy mods."
The driver—an older man with a cigarette dangling from his lips—raised an eyebrow. "You cops?"
"Does it matter?" Monty slid in beside Kínitos, pulling the door shut. "We'll pay double."
The driver shrugged, flicking ash out the window. "Your money."
The taxi lurched forward, tires squealing as they peeled out. The modded car was three blocks ahead now, weaving through traffic with practiced ease. The taxi driver kept pace, staying just far enough back to avoid suspicion.
Kínitos leaned forward, watching the car's every turn. "Don't lose him."
"I won't," the driver muttered. "But if he figures out we're tailing him, you're on your own."
Thursday, 2:30 PM
The small café smelled like burnt coffee and grease. Kínitos and Monty sat at a corner table near the window, each with a small sandwich on a paper plate. Neither had eaten much.
Across the street, the house stood quiet. Unremarkably quiet. It was a modest two-story building tucked between taller structures, nothing fancy. The modded car had pulled into the driveway an hour ago, and Marco Delgado and his bodyguards had gone inside.
Since then? Nothing.
"No one's come out," Monty said, staring at the untouched half of his sandwich. "Not even for a smoke break."
Kínitos took a slow bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Maybe they're having a long meeting."
"For over an hour?" Monty shook his head.
"Something's off."
Kínitos's watch buzzed softly. He glanced down—still no updates from Jade. Just the mission parameters they'd been given that morning. He looked back at the house. The windows were dark. No movement behind the curtains. No shadows passing by.
"You think there's another exit?" Monty asked.
"Probably." Kínitos set his sandwich down. "But we can't exactly knock on the door and ask."
Monty leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "So what do we do? Sit here all day?"
Kínitos didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed locked on the house, studying every detail—the overgrown hedges, the cracked driveway, the way the front door sat slightly crooked in its frame. Why is no one coming out?
"Want to play a game?" Kínitos asked.
Monty glanced over, one eyebrow raised.
"What?"
"Letters of the alphabet."
"…Okay?" Monty said, uncertain where this was going.
"I'll go first," Kínitos said, scanning the street. His eyes landed on a man walking past the café, biting into a piece of fruit. "A… for apple." He nodded toward the man outside. Monty followed his gaze, then let out a quiet laugh despite himself.
"Seriously? We're playing I Spy?"
"You got something better to do while we wait?"
Monty sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. He looked around, eyes scanning the storefronts across the street. "Fine. B… for bodega." He pointed at the corner store two buildings down from the house.
Kínitos smirked. "C… for car." He gestured at the modded vehicle still sitting in the driveway.
"D… for dumbass," Monty said flatly, pointing at Kínitos.
Kínitos snorted. "Real mature."
"Your turn." Replied Monti with a smile
"E… for ignorant," Kínitos said, eyes still scanning.
Monty frowned. "Ignorant doesn't start with an E."
"F… for fool," Monti shot back without missing a beat.
"Real funny." Monty leaned forward, squinting at the house.
"Your turn. G."
Kínitos opened his mouth, but the word caught in his throat. His eyes locked on the top floor window—the same one where he'd seen the silhouette moments ago. The curtain had shifted. And through the gap, clear as day, he saw it.
A man holding something long and dark. Metal glinted in the dim light filtering through.
Another man across from him, examining it. Turning it over in his hands.
"G… for guns," Kínitos said quietly.