Jax sat quietly in the booth by the window, his gaze fixed on the street corner opposite the ice cream shop. Butch and Viper were still there, heads close together in conspiracy.

Every few seconds, Butch’s eyes would flick toward the window, locking onto Jax with a cold, predatory gleam.

“What are those two plotting?” Jax mused, his grip tightening on his spoon. “Are they actually planning to make a move on me right here?”

A sense of foreboding settled in his gut. Butch was a thug, and thugs were predictable—until they weren’t.

Still, Jax didn’t panic. He wasn’t just some random scavenger anymore. He was the guy with a direct line to The Helios Syndicate. Unless Butch had suffered massive brain trauma recently, attacking a Helios associate in broad daylight was suicide.

After a final exchange of whispers, Butch turned and stomped away, disappearing into the crowd.

Viper lingered for a moment. He glanced up at the shop, his eyes meeting Jax’s through the glass. A flash of panic crossed his features, and he scurried off in the opposite direction.

Jax leaned forward, craning his neck to track the weasel.

“Where is he going?” Jax muttered. “That’s the direction of The Guild Hub office. What kind of game is he playing?”

Unable to solve the puzzle with the pieces he had, Jax decided to stop worrying and focus on the immediate problem: finishing his ice cream.

Beside him, Barnaby was staring at the counter with tragic longing. He had demolished his cone in seconds, leaving only a smear of cream on his lips, which he kept licking hopefully.

“Still hungry?” Jax asked.

Barnaby nodded vigorously, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Fine. Let’s grab some for the road. Hopefully, they won’t melt before we get back to base.”

Jax walked to the counter and ordered a dozen cones. The shop owner, delighted by the bulk order, packed them into a Styrofoam cooler with ice packs.

Barnaby hugged the cooler to his chest like it was a crate of gold bars, following Jax out of the shop.

As they walked toward the city gate, they passed a heavy-duty transport truck idling by the checkpoint. The engine rumbled with raw power, and the smell of diesel hung thick in the air.

Jax felt a pang of envy.

“Man, if only we had wheels,” he sighed. “Rucking twenty clicks a day is killing my knees.”

But vehicles were a pipe dream. The initial cost was astronomical, but the fuel was the real killer. Since the Apocalypse, oil had become liquid gold.

The super-corporations—the Syndicates—had seized control of the remaining refineries and stockpiles. They used fuel to strangle the economy and keep the populace dependent.

It wasn’t that humanity lacked the firepower to fight the Insectoids; they lacked the logistics. Without fuel, tanks were just metal coffins. The Syndicates hoarded their resources, refusing to commit to a full-scale war for fear of weakening their own positions against rival factions.

It was a classic stalemate. The rich got richer behind their high walls, while the poor—the “ants”—scraped by in the dirt.

Jax checked his watch. 14:15 PM.

“We need to move,” he said, picking up the pace. “If we don’t hustle, we’ll be caught out after dark.”

Nightfall meant the Insectoids would surface in force. Jax had no desire to fight a swarm on open ground with only a box of ice cream for backup.

They cleared the gates of Outpost 15 and hit the main road. The sun beat down on them, the heat radiating off the cracked asphalt.

Suddenly, the roar of engines tore through the silence behind them.

Jax turned to see three sidecar motorcycles tearing down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust. Nine men rode the machines, their eyes locked on Jax and Barnaby.

They skidded to a halt, blocking the path.

“Halt!” the lead rider barked, cutting the engine. “You’re Jax, right?”

Jax narrowed his eyes. “That’s me. Who’s asking?”

The leader dismounted, a tall man with a pinched face and a Guild Hub uniform that looked slightly too clean for field work. He eyed Barnaby, then the white cooler in his arms.

“What’s in the box, big guy? Hand it over.”

Jax blinked, genuinely baffled. “Are you serious? It’s ice cream. You guys chase us down here to rob us of dessert?”

The leader didn’t laugh. He stepped toward Barnaby, his hand dropping to the holster at his hip. He seemed wary of the giant’s size.

“Open it,” he ordered, drawing his pistol. “We’re from The Guild Hub. We received a credible tip that you murdered members of the Iron Spear Syndicate and stole their weapons. That’s a violation of Sprawl law.”

Barnaby scowled, clutching the box tighter. He looked at Jax for guidance.

“Brother Jax, if I open it, the cold will get out. The ice cream will melt.”

Jax stepped between Barnaby and the gun, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “Sorry, officer. I’m going to need to see some ID before you start searching my property. Arbitrary search and seizure is a crime, too. For all I know, you’re just bandits in costumes.”

The leader’s face twisted in annoyance. “Playing the hero? Fine. Boys, cuff them! We’ll drag them back and beat the truth out of them in the interrogation room.”

The men behind him dismounted, pulling out ropes and cuffs. They moved with the swagger of bullies who knew they had the numbers.

“Hold it!” Jax shouted, his hand sliding into his pocket. “Don’t think a badge gives you the right to kidnap people. If you touch us without valid credentials, I’ll file a complaint that will bury you.”

The thugs laughed. It was a cruel, mocking sound.

“Listen to him,” one sneered. “Kid’s at death’s door and he’s talking about filing paperwork. You really won’t yield until you see the coffin, will you?”

“Cut the chatter,” another growled. “Just grab them. Who’s going to stop us out here? This is Iron Spear territory now.”

“Exactly. Kill the brats and dump the bodies. Nobody will miss them.”

The mask had slipped. These weren’t just strict officers; they were hitmen.

“So that’s it,” Jax said, his voice cold. “Iron Spear goons impersonating Hub officers. You guys really think you run this town.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a small, intricately carved token.

“Too bad for you. I’m with The Helios Syndicate. You touch a hair on my head, and your entire guild burns before sunrise.”

The thugs froze. The lead goon stared at the token, his eyes widening.

“What? A Helios token?”

“Bullshit,” one of the minions muttered, though his voice wavered. “It’s a fake. How would a scavenger get a Helios token?”

“He’s bluffing! Call it!”

But the leader wasn’t so sure. He stared at Jax, sweat beading on his forehead.

Jax held the token out, his gaze boring into the leader’s soul. “You’re the boss, right? You know what a real token looks like. Come verify it. I dare you.”

The leader hesitated, his brow furrowing into deep lines of worry. He stepped forward cautiously and took the token. He ran his thumb over the seal, checked the weight, and examined the intricate engraving.

His face went pale.

“It’s… it’s real,” he whispered, looking up at Jax with horror. “You’re actually with Helios?”

“Want me to call them?” Jax asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “They have an office in Outpost 15. I can have a squad here in ten minutes.”

The leader shoved the token back at Jax like it was red-hot iron. “No! No need for that.”

He took a deep breath, trying to salvage the situation. “Look, we still have a report. Murder and theft are serious charges. You need to come with us to the station to clear this up.”

“Show me your ID,” Jax demanded. “Real ID.”

The leader gritted his teeth but complied, pulling a leather wallet from his jacket. “I’m Officer Walker, Guild Hub Investigator.”

Jax glanced at the ID. It was genuine.

“So,” Jax said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “An official Guild Hub Investigator colluding with a criminal syndicate to frame innocent civilians. I think my friends at Helios would be very interested in this corruption.”

Walker flinched. He looked ready to bolt, but a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

One of the Iron Spear thugs leaned in, his voice a low growl. “You took the Credits, Walker. Finish the job. We have witnesses. Just arrest him.”

Walker swallowed hard. He was trapped. If he let Jax go, Iron Spear would gut him. If he arrested Jax, Helios might skin him alive. He chose the immediate threat.

“Jax,” Walker said, his voice trembling slightly. “You have to come with us. It’s procedure. If you’re innocent, you’ll be released. Just… don’t resist.”

The thugs moved in, encircling Jax and Barnaby.

“Don’t touch me,” Jax snapped. “I can walk.”

He glared at Walker. “You’ve chosen to go down this dark path to the end, haven’t you, Walker?”

Jax then turned his gaze to the Iron Spear thugs. “Tell Butch I said hello. And tell him to watch his back. I don’t forget debts.”