Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 574: Finding Sting.

Westbrook was always full of life. Many grand buildings already lined the streets, and new ones were being built so quickly that the town had started to look like a small capital city. Each day, more and more survivors made there way over to beg for residence within.

Even some of the billionaires had moved from the strict mountain to the freer town where they could engage in some mischief without Sunshine’s constant watchful eye looking over them.

The town had the biggest and most thriving markets compared to the other towns. It was always busy, and this was why ’Operation Sting’ had to be carried out after the sun set. The squad moved like ninjas at a buffet--stealthy until the good food ran out.

They split up, peeling away to round up the rest of the smuggling list, leaving the "big fish" to the professionals. The big fish had been identified by Lisha and Zulu. They listened and watched old footage captured by drones on the days the smugglers did business. And soon, the name Sting was matched to a face.

The main target at a pool bar called The Rusty summer. It was the kind of place where people went to forget they lived in the apocalypse. Inside, the air was heavy with the smell of old smoke and strong liquor. It was loud and crowded, a small pocket of noise in a world that had gone quiet.

Beneath the dim, flickering lights, a man leaned over a pool table. He hit the chipped balls with a sharp crack, playing with incredible focus as if the game was the only thing that mattered anymore.

He was not like his friends who moved their hips to the live music being sung by a mariachi band whose lead female singer swung her hips like a pendulum of temptation--graceful, slightly exaggerated but in perfect control.

Her faithful fans were dropping small supplies and cash donation at her feet. A young boy, about ten or nine, was collecting these things before they could be stolen.

At the bar, people were wincing as they bought drinks that cost twice what they did in the old world. Only Phillip’s homemade beer was price friendly, but there was not much of it to go around. Some sat in the shadows, whispering about the past, while others laughed too loudly to hide their fear. In the corner, an undercover member of the squad moved, giving a signal to Carson.

Nobody looked up to notice the rare faces in the bar that had never been there before. In here, everyone was busy looking at their cards or the bottom of their glass. They were all hiding from their troubles, trying to pretend that the old world hadn’t already ended.

The man that was playing pool as if it was the answer to a quiz slipped. His ball flew through the air and fell precisely near a specific chair. That too, was a signal to the squad.

"There he is," Carson whispered, nodding toward a man in a grease-stained jacket sitting at the far end of the bar. The man was currently trying to convince a glass of murky brown liquid to stay still. The ball had fallen near his chair, but he did not glance at it.

Hades and Carson stepped deeper into the bar, the floorboards groaning under their boots. Hades slid onto the stool to the man’s left. Carson took the right. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"Sting," Hades said, his voice low and dangerous.

The man blinked slowly, his eyes bloodshot. He looked at Hades, then at Carson, then back at his drink. "Do I... do I know you? Wait you....you look like Hades Quinn." He laughed. "But what would that man seek in a place like this? With all the expensive wines in the bar on the mountain, he would never visit this hellhole."

"You are right, I am him." Hades answered.

"And we have a job for you," Carson lied, leaning in with a sharp, toothy grin. "A big one. Lots of cash. But we don’t talk business in front of too many eyes."

Sting’s face lit up with a drunk, greedy glow. The boss of the base had come to him for a job! Was this his chance to rise through the ranks? "Job? Oh, I like jobs. I’m the best at... at things." He leaned closer. "Especially the ones you don’t want people to know about. Let’s talk outside." He stood up, wobbling slightly, and walked straight into the trap with a happy hiccup.

Minutes later, the "job" became very real and very uncomfortable. Sting was no longer at a bar; he was tied to a bolted-down chair in the back of a command vehicle, the interior lit by the cold, blue glow of computer monitors.

Carson flicked through the man’s wallet, pulling out a battered plastic card. "Andrew Walpole. AKA ’Sting.’ The name is a bit dramatic for a guy who sells stolen canned beans, don’t you think, Andrew?"

"What.....what are you talking about!" Sting protested, though the hiccups were making him bounce slightly in his seat. "Give me back my phone, I have a right to privacy. You cannot do this."

Carson ignored him, scrolling through the man’s confiscated phone. "He’s got encrypted chats, Hades. But no names. Just a contact labeled ’The boss’."

Hades leaned over Sting, his presence filling the cramped vehicle. "Listen to me, Andrew. My patience is back at the medic bay with a dying friend. I don’t have time for the drunk and confused act. I have all this misplaced energy and anger and I need to find a release. Do not let that be you, so spill, who is this boss?"

Sting sobered up real fast. The color drained from his face, replaced by a pasty gray. "I... I need water. My throat is like a desert, man. Oh, I am gonna be sick."

"Get sick on your own time." Hades snapped. "Right now, you’re on a one-way trip to the wilderness. You know the Crocodylus? Those giant, mutated lizards with the three rows of teeth? They’re always very hungry. If you’re lucky, they’ll eat you fast. If you’re unlucky, they’ll play with you first and save you for their babies."

Sting let out a loud, pathetic hiccup. "You can’t do that! That’s... that’s a death sentence! This is a law abiding base, don’t I get a trial first?"

"Not for you. You my friend, are garbage to be disposed off. It is an apocalypse, everyone will just assume something killed you. That is the official story we will be giving to your family." Hades spoke softly but surely, painting a vivid picture. "Give up your boss, and you can go to the prison base. It’s boring, the beds are hard and the food is basic but you’ll be alive and when the apocalypse ends, you will be released. Choose."

Sting looked at the door of the vehicle, then at Hades’ cold eyes. He weighed the options: a hot cell or being a lizard’s snack. "Okay! Okay!" Sting yelped. "The boss... I don’t know his face, I swear! But he’s not one of us, he’s one of you rich fellas. His name is Howard Shaw."

The silence that followed was deafening. Hades and Carson shared a look of pure, dark realization.

"Are you certain?" Carson asked.

Sting nodded vehemently. "He is behind everything but you cannot say that you got that info from me. That man is insane...he will not kill me but he will find ways to make me hurt."