The police van's brakes hissed as it pulled into the precinct's underground garage. Inside, Samuel leaned weakly against the steel wall, his wrists bound with cold cuffs, ankles scraped and bruised. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead sounded louder than it should. His mind was still fogged with pain, magic burnout… and Pinky's final words.
Three hours.
That's how long he'd been out.
And now, they were locking him up.
No explanations. No chance to talk.
Just a slow crawl from battlefield to holding cell.
They dragged him through the station—past desks cluttered with paperwork, sleepy-eyed officers, and one too many coffee-stained mugs. The world looked too normal in here. Too sane.
Too blind.
Eventually, they reached the holding area.
The cell reeked of piss, alcohol, and bad decisions. It was meant for five—crammed with twelve. Drunken men lay passed out in corners. A shirtless gangster with prison tattoos snored against the bars. A punk with neon hair and a bruised jaw argued with a junkie about stolen shoes. Someone had puked in the corner drain, and nobody had bothered to clean it.
And there, wedged in the tightest corner between a twitchy pickpocket and a dude with bloodied knuckles, sat Danny.
Cuffed. Silent. Shoulders hunched.
His eyes were red—not from crying, but pure, boiling rage.
The gate clanged open. Two officers shoved Samuel inside and dumped him down beside a muttering conspiracy nut ranting about alien mind probes.
"Your boyfriend's here," one of the cops sneered, laughing as the gate slammed shut.
Danny didn't look up right away.
Samuel slid down against the wall, his ribs screaming.
"…Danny?" His voice was dry and cracked like a busted speaker.
Danny finally glanced over, eyes narrowing with a mix of relief and frustration. "You're here."
Samuel tried to shift but winced, hissing through his teeth.
"Hell of a team we make," Danny muttered. "Schoolmates to cellmates."
A groan echoed across the cell. Someone was dry-heaving into a plastic bag. Another dude started rapping angrily in three different languages about cigarettes and corruption.
Samuel exhaled slowly. "How long you been here?"
"I've been here four hours. You collapsed hard. They hauled us both in the moment the dust settled. Everything outside turned into a circus. Cops. Reporters. Medics. No one has a damn clue what really happened, and they're too scared to ask."
"…And Pinky?" Samuel asked.
Danny went silent, jaw clenching. A flash memory of her body getting zipped in a bag before transport into the ambulance flashed in his mind.
Due to their telepathic connection, Samuel saw glimpses of the memory flash into his mind as well.
Even though it was shocking, he was getting numb to all this. He didn't speak that out loud.
Danny glanced sideways. "What happened to you?"
Samuel winced, rubbing his temple. "Might've… overused my power. That huge summoning at the end—it drained me dry."
Samuel turned and stared at the peeling wall. The smell of sweat, blood, and bleach clung to the air like trauma.
After a beat, Samuel asked, "Did Maya contact you? Where did she go after putting us in such trouble?"
Danny shook his head. "No. Not a whisper. Somehow, with what happened to Pinky, I feel we are responsible… and so is she. I won't forgive myself—or her—for what happened," he mumbled, his voice low and bitter.
Samuel closed his eyes.
"Hell Order," he called in his mind. "Where is Maya?"
"During your confrontation with the Queen, Maya activated two forbidden protocols—first to preserve the soul of Subject: Pinky, then again to stabilize your overdrawn soul when you unleashed the large-scale Hell Gate."
"Her energy is in deep slumber. Estimated wake time: several days. Alternative recovery options include harvesting additional soul fragments and slaying high-level demons."
Samuel's eyes widened. "Wait… she used forbidden power twice? To protect me—and Pinky?"
Danny sat up straighter. "Then… Pinky is alive? Was that even possible? And what about Maya?!"
"Hell Order?" Samuel pressed.
"Pinky's survival probability is 50%. Subject may have regained consciousness approximately 30 minutes after the incident."
"Maya's revival probability is currently 30%. Multiple forbidden activations have severely strained her core. Additional memory fragments and successful demon banishments are required for accelerated recovery."
Both boys froze.
Danny whispered, "So she didn't give up on us… she went all out just to keep us alive?"
Samuel clenched his fists.
For a moment, the chaos faded. Even in a holding cell filled with vomit, blood, and failure—something inside both of them lit up again.
Hope.
Hope wrapped in fury.
Hope that Maya was still somewhere inside… waiting.
And that Pinky might still be breathing.
Suddenly, the heavy door to the detention block creaked open—and just like that, the room fell into a heavy silence. All eyes turned toward the new arrivals, tension crackling through the air as if even the drunks sobered up to watch.
Two officers entered, followed by a third man in a dark gray suit. No badge on his chest. No visible rank. Just cold, unreadable eyes and a folder thick enough to bury someone's past inside it.
The guy didn't need to announce himself.
The aura around him said it all.
Special Investigation Unit.
The cell fell dead silent.
The man looked around, eyes scanning the caged circus before finally pointing. "Samuel and Danny. You're coming with us."
"Wait—the case is still under our station jurisdiction!" one of the station officers stammered. "We haven't even interrogated them yet—"
"We take over from here. Your Inspector is being notified. Assist us with the transfer protocol." The suited man flashed a thin black card—no name, just a stark government seal no one dared question.
The officers exchanged glances—then obeyed. The man didn't speak any further. He just walked away.
The gate opened. The chaos stirred. Danny stood up slowly as cuffs were re-secured.
As they were escorted out, Samuel glanced at the twitchy pickpocket. There was a demon mark on his shoulder. "You might want to stay clean next time."
The kid blinked. "Huh?"
"Just a tip," Sam said flatly, then walked off. As Samuel and Danny exited the detention room, a faint shimmer flickered over the pickpocket's shoulder. A small, greenish demon—thin, oily-skinned, with eyes like spinning coins—materialized out of thin air and perched there, clutching his collar like a monkey on a leash.
The F-Class demon—known as a Greed Demon, or Desire Amplifier—let out a nervous wheeze. It trembled slightly as it glanced at the retreating backs of the Hell Enforcers.
"Shit... real Hell Enforcers... in a dump like this? I gotta lay low. Can't let them sniff me out... not while I'm still leeching desires off this idiot."
The pickpocket scratched his head cluelessly and muttered about wanting a smoke.
The demon clung tighter, invisible once again to mortal eyes, but deeply shaken. It would be a long night.
They were led down a narrow corridor away from the cells. Samuel looked calm—too calm for someone being extracted by government spooks.
Danny whispered, "What's going to happen, you think?"
Samuel didn't even flinch. "Special Investigation Unit. I'm sure they want to know what's going on."
Danny's brows furrowed. "So what now? Interrogation? Do you think they'll believe us?"
Samuel leaned in slightly, speaking under his breath. "Listen. Keep calm. Keep collected. Follow my lead."
Danny's eyes twitched. "That's how we end up here!"
Knowing Pinky might still be alive slowly reignited the dim souls of Danny and Samuel. Slowly, they were coming back from their depression.
Samuel quickly turned and looked at Danny in shock. He didn't expect such a comeback from Danny. "Great insult. Do you have better idea?" he asked.
Danny shook his head, giving a silent shrug to signal he had no better idea.
Samuel smirked faintly. "Since I'm the so-called troublemaker, let me, the troublemaker, show them why they shouldn't trouble the trouble—because trouble will trouble them back."
Danny replied with a straight face, "If you keep talking like this, I'm sure we'll be in even bigger trouble."
"We can't afford to be stuck here for long. We need to check on Pinky. Maybe she's already revived. May be she really survived—and Maya needs our help."
Danny exhaled slowly, nodding. "What's the play?"
Samuel nodded firmly. "This time, no lies. The truth. Nothing more powerful than the truth."
To be continue.