Code Collector

New clients are always exciting deals. And this situation was no different from when Allen was doing business with Mary or Hilda. This was more of the deal with the couple where they had to rush into the agreement.

It was a matter of life and death and what this old man was facing right now was not far from that. One of the men that surrounded him had already lifted him by the collar and had him pinned on the wall.

The old man was struggling and even when Allen was far from them, he could see how Jack had started shaking. He was afraid, and it shows.

However, Allen didn't want to help Jack right away. He had to know as much as he can in this situation first. What were these men's intention in hurting the old man.

From what he knows so far, Jack is supposed to give them money. For whatever reason, Allen doesn't know yet. Most likely, these people are loan sharks that Jack owes money to. But this would be doubtful in a way that Jack didn't mention any debt before.

"Please don't kill me," Jack pleaded and that was when Allen's body moved on its own.

He ran inside the alley without his disguise, ramming his head and his arms into one of the guys that made them stumble to the side. Allen got on top of the man and conjured his hammer, pointing it above the man's head.

"Who are you and what are you doing?!" the man he was straddling on growled. "Are you from Verta Carta too?"

The man Allen was pinning on the ground was a bald man with a large X scar in the side of his head. He wore black suit and tie that was loosened in every buttons. The other one wore similar in clothing but he had red hair and dark orange eyebrows.

"Verta what?" Allen scrunched his face. "I don't think I understand."

"He's getting away!" the other man yelled. "What are we going to do?"

"You bloody idiot, go after him!" the first man yelled. "Once his peers will know, we'll be dead."

"I think it's too late for that."

All their heads snapped to the direction of the voice. It was Jack, standing in front of the alley, crossing his arms while four more men stood behind him.

All of them were large and buff, their black coats were waving in the air while they wore black tinted visors. These men conjured their weapons, a large sharp sword, and ran to attack the guys who were hurting Jack before.

Allen on the other hand crawled out of the skirmish and saw Jack smiling at him. The old man gestured his hand, signalling him to come. The boy didn't know what else to do, so he just crawled closer to the man.

"Young boy, what brave soul you have," Jack snickered. "Let me properly introduce myself, I am Jack Roberts, leader of Verta Carta Gang."

A gang.

For anyone on Earth thinking that life on the Otherworlds are much more peaceful and organized, they are wrong in many levels. When you group strangers into one camp, give them powers, and almost no authority, many problems would arise.

Starting from gangs, thieves, and even serial killers, camps are only glorified gladiator rings. It's not for the faint of heart but these people inside had no other choice but to survive.

One percent of the people in camps hunt in the Otherworlds to gain power, fame, and some are for fun. The rest are inside one for the money. Especially the bottom fifty percent, the ones who are at the brink of hunger and thirst.

The other fourty nine percent are composed with middle-class Hunters, small business owners, and organizations like the one Jack was in. Or as they liked to call it, gangs.

These gangs aren't like the ones in Earth where they litter around the street and steal money or fight with each other. Gangs in the Otherworlds are much more organized, but are less than the mafia.

They do illegal transactions with buying and selling codes, equipment, and this includes the illegal plants that are located in the Otherworlds. These gangs are doing everything they can for the money.

"But you're…" Allen trailed off in disbelief. That was why Jack had all the information that wasn't in the market as often. He was part of this group where they can get much more credible than the others.

This would only mean that Allen's three primary suspects for the Phantom Cunt case is right. He was going into a right path.

"Child, come with me," Jack said. "My men will take care of these good folks."

"Please, Boss Jack," the first guy pleaded. "We were only doing it because our boss told us to. We never really thought of you as the Phantom Cunt."

"I would never stoop as low as that miserable fool," Jack said. Allen flinched after the man said those words.

His voice was laced with venom. The anger that was intended to convey those words were clear that only a fool would miss how Jack felt about the Phantom Cunt.

"I know your gang wants him as much as us, but this is just under the belt," Jack added. "So forgive my men for doing what they must do. They're just doing their jobs."

Jack and Allen left the alley, hearing only the muffled screams of the men. Jack's thugs must've put rags in their mouths to prevent them from garnering attention.

"You are such an interesting boy," Jack chuckled while leading Allen somewhere. "Do you know why my stall in the market has barely any customers?"

Allen slowly shook his head, "I'm sorry, sir but I do not know."

"Because everyone else there knows that I'm not just from any group," Jack said. "Verta Carta is a gang that specializes into using moles and we're famous for our human trafficking. I took interest in you because you look like a trustworthy man."

"Sir, I don't understand–"

"Do you really think that you can get away with the eyes of an expert liar," Jack turned around to face Allen. "Tell me who you really are, Phantom Cunt."