Ten people.

Those were the total number of participants in the dining hall.

The set-up was intended to be drama-like, but the poor Garza had no idea what was bound to happen. The situation was something that she could not win even if she was informed, and had decided to fight back.

It was something that she would not be able to stop no matter the chances. The set of circumstances had already been decided.

The youngest daughter of Stefano Garza was about to undergo a battle that might challenge her mental fortitude. The story had just started after all.

Two cameramen.

The basic role which they had to perform would serve as the foundation of everything.

At first, Tal was hesitant about the entire plan.

When the announcement had been made, and passed onto him, he did not know what to say. It was ridiculous. He had been assigned to orchestrate something that was not even his specialty.

It must be a mistake, he thought.

There was no way that the Commander would plot something inane.

It was ridiculous.

The paper that he received days ago must be fake. He would rather hear it officially from the one and only Revolution Templonuevo.

What was the man thinking?

No one knew.

It was easy to assume, but the ability to follow the train of thoughts of their Commander could be quite a challenge.

And when Tal had the activity confirmed, he was taken aback. It only took one look from the man before he cowered in submission.

He should feel honored that he had been granted full jurisdiction over the mission. He committed a mistake, and dared question his superior just because he found it ridiculous? He could have prevented a punishment that was about to befall him if he had stayed quiet.

Two wardrobe specialists.

They did not have to be girls for that matter, but they were anyway.

Tal had nothing to comment about it. He told himself that he should personally give his thanks to Drixie Washington once this mission had been settled. Asking for her assistance for the completion of the activity did a number on his ego.

Apart from being an armament expert, he had no other talents to boast about.

Now, being a director of a cliché orchestrated recording was certainly a change of pace. It came nothing on his door when he least expected it.

He was dumbfounded.

Tal was not sure if the Commander was damn serious, or just taunting him?

Nevertheless, it felt like a challenge, so he took it as a challenge. Sure, he was overflowing with weapon resources, but apparently, those were plain materials. Those were not applicable, and utterly useless for now.

He needed manpower more than anything else, and only one person entered his mind when all that brainstorming ended.

Premier Kontonicolas.

That bastard.

He did not expect the geezer turning out as a double-crosser as well. The man was remained tight-lipped for all his worth.

If his calculations were not wrong…

Premier had a set of lackeys working specifically under his direct orders.

What was it called again?

“Ah, Ganaremos…”

Here was a fun fact about Templonuevo Cartel if everyone had not been aware yet:

Every man was motivated with one purpose.

And that purpose was limited to their own knowledge.

No one knew what they were trying to attain, but Revolution Templonuevo was not oblivious. They could be fooling the others, but not him. That man was always one step ahead.

Consequently, greed had become part of human nature.

They could be all part of one organized crime syndicate, but it did not mean that they were all working together with a harmonious relationship on the side.

Helping one another was like a violation of an unspoken rule, hence it was rarely exercised among them.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Drixie Washington looked more savage than ever. For a twenty-three year old woman, she sure was able to establish a ring on her name.

Ganaremos had been bragging of its eight official members since its formation. Each one of them had acquired a tattoo borne of a burning steel which served as a mark along with their specific ranking.

Tal’s eyes burned holes into the number that was etched onto the woman’s pale skin.

She sure had her shit together, he thought.

“It has been a while, Seis,” Tal greeted with a tight smile.

It seemed like the rumors were true.

The austere Templonuevo really had to go that far.

But…

He thought it was still normal—especially if they were talking about him.

Drixie wore a black eye patch which significantly complemented her pale skin. It had been weeks since she received her punishment, but her bubbly personality had not yet returned.

Do not tell me she is letting that affect her? Tal thought that maybe he overestimated her.

To be able to join a special squad would get, literally everyone in the lot, envious. He did know the exact details, but it appeared that Drixie failed a high-end mission, and it cost her two important tools of her life.

She had his index finger dismembered—an important part of her being a sniper.

And she had an eye gouged out—a key which contributed to a shot’s success rate.

Tal eyed her cautiously. “I have heard…”

Drixie raised an eyebrow at him. “I do not need your pity.”

“I am not here to offer you my needless pity, though.”

Silence.

“It has been a while. You really have been stagnant, huh?” Tal commented.

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

He chuckled lowly. “You are not like this before, Drixie. It would be an honor to know the full details from you.”

Drixie tilted her head to the side, and smirked sarcastically. “But you are not worthy enough, Talon. How do we compensate for that?” she taunted.

Tal would admit that Drixie had a way with words.

They really stung this time.

He walked over toward her, and squatted down to meet her harsh gaze. “I will be needing your assistance. It can be a way for you to acquire a new mission from your hero and regain…” he touched her collarbone where the number had been imprinted, “your title.”