Nervous Man: Yes, here. It's all there. everything you asked for.

Tall Man took the papers, his stern expression unchanging as he flipped through them. After a moment, he looked up, his eyes meeting the nervous man's.

Tall Man: These had better be accurate. It will be your head on the chopping block if we encounter any surprises.

Nervous Man: I swear, it's all accurate. I risked my life to get those.

The tall man nodded, seemingly satisfied momentarily, and turned to the shorter man.

Tall Man: We need to move quickly. The authorities are tightening their grip on the district. We can't afford any delays.

Shorter Man: Agreed. We'll split up and cover the locations marked on the map. Make sure to destroy any evidence after you collect the assets.

Nervous Man: W-what about the slaves? What should we do with them?

The tall man and the shorter man exchanged a quick glance, their expressions hardening. The tall man's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a cold, measured tone.

Tall Man: Dispose of them.

The nervous man paled, a look of horror spreading across his face.

Nervous Man: Dispose of them? But—

The Shorter Man cut him off, his scowl deepening into an almost feral snarl.

Shorter Man: You heard him. Dispose of them. We can't leave any loose ends.

The nervous man hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. The room seemed to close in around him, the weight of their words pressing down on him like a physical force.

Nervous Man: I... I understand.

Tall Man: Good. Now, get moving. We don't have much time.

As the nervous man opened the door to leave, he saw a striking figure standing just outside—a girl with snakes for hair, each serpent writhing gently. Her eyes glowed with an eerie green light, and her expression was one of cold determination. She wore a pristine maid uniform, the stark contrast of its white apron against her dark, scaled skin making her appearance all the more unsettling.

His heart raced as he quickly shut the door, his back pressing against the wooden surface as he looked at the two men with wide eyes.

Nervous Man:  We have a problem. There's a Medusa girl out there... in a maid's uniform.

The tall man and the shorter man exchanged a glance, their faces paling.

Tall Man: A maid from the countess? Here?

Shorter Man: Damn it, they've found us!

The room seemed to vibrate with their shared anxiety. The tall man moved swiftly, grabbing a hidden dagger from his belt, while the shorter man began gathering the papers from the table, his movements frantic and clumsy.

Tall Man: We need to get out of here. Now.

Shorter Man: What about the evidence? We can't leave it behind!

Tall Man: We don't have time! Get the essentials and move!

The nervous man's breaths came in shallow gasps as he watched them scramble. He felt paralyzed, his mind racing with fear and confusion. The tall man suddenly grabbed him by the arm, snapping him out of his stupor.

Tall Man: You, go out the back. We'll meet at the rendezvous point.

Nervous Man: Y-yes, of course.

As they moved towards the rear exit, the door burst open with a force that sent splinters flying. The Medusa girl stepped into the room, her gaze locking onto the men. Her serpents hissed menacingly, and the air seemed to crackle with an invisible energy.

Medusa Maid: By order of the Countess, you are all under arrest.

The tall man snarled, lunging forward with his dagger, but she was quicker. With a swift, fluid motion, she dodged his attack, her eyes glowing brighter. The tall man froze, his body stiffening as if turned to stone, the dagger falling from his grasp.

Shorter Man: No! Stay away from me!

The medusa girl advanced, her presence commanding and unyielding. The shorter man's resistance crumbled, and he dropped the papers, raising his hands in surrender. The nervous man, trembling and unsure of what to do, remained rooted to the spot, his eyes darting between the medusa maid and the paralyzed tall man.

Medusa Maid: You will pay for your crimes.

The shorter man, trembling violently, took one step back before his legs buckled beneath him. With a strangled cry, he fell to the floor, the pungent scent of urine permeating the air as he lost control of his terror. His eyes rolled back, and he passed out, sprawled pathetically at the feet of the Medusa maid.

Aurea looked down at him with a mixture of disdain and pity. She turned to the nervous man, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

Medusa Maid: Don't even think about running. Stay where you are.

The nervous man nodded frantically, his eyes wide with fear.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Mammina stepped into the room, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded. She surveyed the scene with a practiced eye, her expression remaining impassive.

Mammina: Excellent work, Aurea. You're still as efficient as always.

Aurea's serpents shifted slightly, and she inclined her head in acknowledgment, though her gaze remained as sharp as ever.

Mammina's hand went to the small, rectangular device in her pocket—the "radio" that Graves had instructed her on. It was an odd contraption from the other world, and while Mammina was not entirely sure how it functioned, she remembered Graves's simple instructions: just push the button on the side to make it work.

She pulled the radio from her pocket, examining the device with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Her fingers fumbled for a moment, trying to locate the button. Finally, she found it and pressed it down.

Mammina: Mr. Graves, this is Mammina. The situation has been handled.  the suspects have been dealt with and the evidence has been secured.

Graves' voice crackled through the radio, a mix of static and clarity punctuating his words.

Graves: Miss Mammina, good work on the cleanup. One of my drones has picked up some movement in the eastern part of the city. It looks like there might be more of Darius's associates gathering there. I suggest you head in that direction and see if you can catch them before they disappear.

Mammina: Understood, Mr. Graves. I'll be heading there immediately

Graves: Do you need any backup?

Mammina: No need, but I appreciate the offer.

Graves: Alright. Holler if you need it. Good luck.

Mammina stepped outside, her eyes scanning the surroundings. The streets were now quiet, the chaotic scene inside having faded into the distance. She quickly assessed her route and, with a powerful leap, sprang onto the roof of a nearby building.

Mammina's movements were swift and precise as she leaped from rooftop to rooftop. Her attention was drawn to the small, hovering contraption Graves had called a "drone." The sight of such a tiny machine—no bigger than a fairy—gliding effortlessly through the air was astonishing. Even the most brilliant Dwarves struggled with flight technology.

Suddenly, the radio in her hand crackled to life again. Graves' voice, clear and authoritative, broke through the static.

Graves: Miss Mammina. We've spotted five more suspects in the eastern part of the city. They seem to be converging on a specific location.

Mammina's gaze sharpened as she listened to Graves' directions. Her mind quickly calculated the best route to intercept them.

Mammina: Understood. I'll head straight there.

Graves: Good luck. Remember, they might be more cautious this time. Stay alert.

Mammina: Will do.

Minutes later, Mammina landed softly on the rooftop of a building overlooking a narrow alleyway. Below, she could see the gathering of individuals, their movements hurried and erratic. They were aware of the increasing pressure from the authorities.

With a determined exhale, Mammina sprang from the rooftop, her descent controlled and graceful. She landed lightly in the middle of the alleyway, her presence commanding immediate attention.

Mammina: By the order of the Countess, you are all under arrest.

The command in her voice left no room for doubt. Some of the suspects drew their swords, their expressions a mix of defiance and fear, while others remained frozen, unsure of how to respond. One of the suspects, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, took a hesitant step forward, his sword raised. He sneered, trying to muster a semblance of bravery.

Scarred Man: You think you can take us all on?

Mammina's gaze was unyielding, her expression calm yet resolute.

Mammina: I don't want to make this more troublesome. Surrender now, and no further harm will come to you.

The Scarred Man's sneer turned to shock as he released an arrow at Mammina. With swift reflexes, she plucked the arrow from the air and tossed it aside. Her long ears twitched, and she fixed her gaze on the suspects.

Mammina: Surrender now or face the consequences.

Despite her warning, the Scarred Man charged with a sword. Mammina sidestepped effortlessly, disarming him with a quick strike. As the remaining suspects panicked, Mammina moved with practiced ease, swiftly subduing them with precise strikes and kicks.

Mammina: Final warning. Surrender or suffer the consequences.

Frightened, the suspects dropped their weapons and raised their hands. Mammina secured them and activated her radio.

Mammina: Mr. Graves, the situation is under control. All suspects are detained and ready for transport.

Graves' voice crackled through the radio.

Graves: Good work, Miss Mammina. A team will be sent to collect them.

Mammina: Understood. I'll wait here.