The third floor of Hydro de Benzene was a stark contrast to the second—a quiet space. The crimson carpet wasn’t stained with blood, nor were walls splattered with unclaimed flesh. Unlike the mad laughter and victims’ screams below, an eerie silence reigned, broken only by faint music-box melodies. Instead of torture devices, children’s toys lined the corridor.

  Relieved, Gloria sighed, but Danan, ever vigilant, kept his finger on the assault rifle’s trigger. Too early for ease, too soon to lower his guard, he aimed the muzzle down the corridor, glaring at the evenly spaced wooden doors, tapping the gun’s steel.

  “Seems like nothing’s here,” Gloria said.

  “Maybe…” Danan muttered.

  “Danan, why not relax a bit? Staying tense must be exhausting.”

  “You’re the one who’s exhausted. I’m fine.”

  Always like that… Sighing, Gloria walked down the corridor, spotting a girl. Dressed in a maid outfit, dragging a massive attaché case, she paused at a door, spoke briefly through an intercom, then resumed dragging the case, ruffling the carpet’s fibers.

  Even in this hellhole, they make kids work, huh? Had Gloria not seen the horrors of the first and second floors, he might’ve naively said that and approached her. But, hardened by Hydro de Benzene’s madness and rotting desires, he sensed the danger she exuded, glancing at Danan.

  No way a young girl drags an attaché case aimlessly in a place like this. On closer inspection, her appearance was… off.

  Her glossy black hair, lit by the lights, was a nylon wig, slightly misfitted, revealing a clear boundary with her scalp and painful burn scars on her temples. Her walk was odd, too—her right leg dragged, barely moving.

  Best to avoid her. Nodding to Danan, who held his rifle ready, Gloria moved forward. Passing a door, aligning with the girl, he caught his breath.

  Her face was grotesque, inhuman. Missing what should be there, bearing what shouldn’t. Flayed skin exposed muscle fibers. Mechanical eyes replaced gouged sockets. A shaved-off nose. Teeth bared, oozing blood and saliva. Her cybernetic eyes whirred, locking onto Gloria and Danan, a synthetic voice from a voicebox speaker echoing, “Is something wrong, sirs?”

  “No, nothing. Something up?” Gloria replied.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “I sensed you gasp at my face. My apologies, I am not merchandise.”

  “Merchandise? What—”

  Before he could finish, a device on her chest blared an alarm.

  “Another customer calls. Excuse me.”

  Stumbling toward a door near the stairs, she bowed deeply. “How may I serve you, sir?” The door flung open, a child’s scream echoing.

  A grotesque, obese man—more pig than human—clutched a blonde child, a cigar in his mouth. “Takeout. Process it,” he ordered, pressing the glowing ember into her muscle fibers. Unfazed, either numb to pain or accustomed to abuse, she nodded, eyeing the child rolled before her.

  “May I have your specifications?” she asked.

  “No limbs needed. Just holes and a face. Feed the limbs to the dogs—separate meat and bone.”

  “Understood. Please wait.”

  Click—the attaché case’s latches snapped open, metal clanging. Inside: slaughter tools, cleavers, sedative ampoules, and a pristine syringe. She fired a tranquilizer into the child’s forehead, confirmed unconsciousness, and swiftly severed the limbs, stitching the wounds. In just fifteen minutes, a task even adults would struggle with, she meticulously carved the meat, separated white bones, and bagged them.

  “The product’s shelf life is approximately three days. Please handle with care,” she said.

  “Got it—” the man grunted.

  His gaze shifted to Gloria.

  “Ah—”

  The man, arrogantly stuffing the limbless child into a bag, froze, sweating profusely. Trembling, he collapsed, blood soaking his white bathrobe, teeth chattering.

  “Hey,” Gloria said.

  “G-Glo—”

  “Two questions. How many others are here?”

  “I-I mean, I—”

  “How many mid-city… Silentium execs are buying and using up kids here? Well, your fate can wait. You’re not my target.”

  Eyes burning with crystalline rage, Gloria approached. Danan’s eyes widened. Gloria’s blood-splattered suit, hands, and boots were terrifying, but his voice—laced with raw fury—shocked Danan more.

  “You know child abuse and exploitation are harshly punished, don’t you? No, you can’t claim ignorance. Your position proves it. So, how many have you violated, broken, discarded? Tell me, I’m listening.”

  “I was tricked! By Dick! Please, Commander Gloria, believe me!”

  “Believe you? Without evidence, you think I’d be here? I come to the undercity for a damn good reason. We’re done. Talk to the security police.”

  Drooling, crushed by Gloria’s overwhelming presence, the man muttered, “Don’t underestimate me, kid.”

  “…”

  “I clawed my way up under your father, the previous leader! You think a brat like you can ruin me? I’ll kill you… that’ll settle it!”

  Snapping his fingers, a black-clad figure emerged like a shadow. Sensing lethal intent, Danan grabbed Gloria’s neck, hurling him back, blocking the figure’s invisible blade with his mechanical arm.

  Secret Ninja—clad in violet lightning, the thrown knife grazed Danan’s cheek, burning skin. Both arms likely cybernetic, the blade was unseen, shimmering in the air. A unpredictable strike slashed Danan’s chest, armor and all, blood gushing as he groaned in pain.

  “Danan!” Gloria shouted.

  To any onlooker, Danan’s wound was fatal. Gloria thought him dead, beyond saving.

  But… the Lumina bugs in Danan’s heart would heal this. Despite severed flesh and bone, he stood firm, tossing Hakara to Gloria. Deploying a high-frequency blade from his mechanical arm, he aimed his rifle at the ninja.

  “Don’t scream, rich boy,” he spat, coughing blood, and pulled the trigger.