Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 686: Damaged trade piece.

The hangar bay was busy and loud. Small blue sparks flew through the air as workers fixed the metal plating on the craft. One could feel the floor shaking from the power of the aircraft’s engines warming up.

Hades stood like a statue carved from shadow, his arms crossed over his chest, watching his men. He wasn’t just bringing a security detail; he was bringing a small, terrifying army.

Two full squads were prepping. One was visible_ men in matte-black tactical gear, checking their rifles with rhythmic clicks and snaps. The other squad was invisible and ready to kill. To the naked eye, they were nothing more than a slight shimmer in the air, a ripple like heat rising off asphalt. Hades knew exactly where every one of them stood. He didn’t believe in "fair fights." He believed in overwhelming finishes, and the invisible squad was for backup.

Dr. Roy, clutching a tablet to his chest like a shield, scurried over to Hades. He looked at the dragonoid pistols and the serrated combat knives being strapped to thighs.

"Hades, really," Roy stammered, his voice sounding thin in the vast hangar. "Don’t you think this is... a bit much? We’re going for a diplomatic exchange, not to conquer the New Eden. This looks like you’re about to start a war."

Hades didn’t move his head. He just shifted his gaze. It was a cold, predatory look_ the kind that made a man realize his internal organs were very soft and vulnerable.

"In this new world, Roy," Hades said, his voice a low vibration, "the difference between a handshake and a funeral is how many guns you bring to the meeting. I am not risking my people because I know exactly how politicians like to complicate matters."

Finch would take one look at the dragonfly aircraft, exo suits, dragonoids and supplies and develop other ideas. Fortress four was the most well put together and developed city in the world. Unless there was someone else out there with a repairman system like his wife.

But, if not, then it was just their fortress and there were too many greedy people lurking in the shadows, wishing to harvest where they had not sown. It was best to make Finch rethink such ideas, if he had them.

Roy’s throat hitched. He didn’t say another word. He just turned on his heel and scurried toward the transport craft, his coat fluttering behind him like the tail of a panicked rabbit.

Hades followed, slowly, grinning like a sly wolf.

Inside the craft, the atmosphere was different. It didn’t smell like war; it smelled like desperation.

Ceasar who was bound in high-tensile energy cuffs, sat on the cold floor of the aircraft, legs strapped to a chair. "At least offer me a real sit." He said_ not that anyone cared. He had finally been told the truth: he was being traded to Finch. And Finch didn’t do ’forgive and forget.’ Finch did ’slow and painful.’

"Hades! Please!" Ceasar blubbered. A string of saliva hung from his busted lip. It was not the only injury he had, two black eyes that matched Carson’s fist accompanied the lip. "You can’t do this. I’m a high-ranking official! This is_ this is human trafficking which is against the international law! I’ll give you anything. I have...." He paused, realizing that he had nothing to offer. "Please Just don’t give me to that psychopath."

Carson, sitting across from him, was casually sharpening a combat knife. The shink-shink-shink of the whetstone was the only rhythm Ceasar heard. He looked up and flashed a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. "Funny," Carson said. "You didn’t care about ’human rights’ when you were treating everyone else like dirt. Now that you’re the dirt, you’ve suddenly found your conscience. That’s adorable, Ceasar. Really."

"I was doing my job of putting this country back together!" Ceasar shrieked, his voice cracking. "Finch will kill me. And you all know this! This is premeditated murder. Where are your hearts? How can you do this? Doesn’t anyone here believe in God?"

That last question caused a few eyebrows to raise in surprise. Some of the soldiers that had crossed paths with Ceasar in the past knew he had no relationship with God. Desperation had brought him to faith!

"Well," Carson chuckled, "I hope he starts with the toes. I know that’s where the best screaming happens. Preach some gospels while they are at it."

The soldiers in the visible squad chuckled. Even the invisible air seemed to vibrate with a cruel, silent mirth. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Ceasar’s fear suddenly curdled into a frantic, ugly rage. He saw the smile on Carson’s face_ a smile of pure, unadulterated triumph_ and he snapped. He lurched upward, his bound hands shaking. He pointed his stubby, trembling fingers directly at Carson’s eyes, leaning in until he was inches away from the soldier’s thighs.

"You think this is funny?" Ceasar hissed, his voice bubbling with venom. "You’re all dead men! This is treason! The world will hear about this. My people will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy. I’ll make sure you rot in a hole so deep you’ll forget what the sun looks like! I’ll poke those laughing eyes right out of your_"

He stretched his fingers out, lunging toward Carson’s boots.

Nobody saw the blade move.

One second, Ceasar was screaming threats, his fingers inches from Carson’s feet. The next, there was a wet, metallic thud.

Ceasar didn’t scream immediately. He just looked down. His fingers_ all five of them from his right hand_ were scattered across the floor of the aircraft like discarded cocktail sausages.

Then, the sound hit. It wasn’t a human noise; it was a high-pitched, tea-kettle whistle of pure agony. Ceasar collapsed backward, clutching his mangled hand to his chest, blood spraying across his dirty silk shirt that he had worn for over a month.

"MY FINGERS! HE CUT OFF MY FINGERS!"

Carson didn’t even look angry. In fact, he looked like he’d just won the lottery. He wiped a single drop of blood off his cheek with his thumb and flicked it away. "I told you to shut up. You didn’t listen. I’m a very big fan of active listening, Ceasar."

Two of the soldiers in the back actually burst out laughing. "He deserved that," one of them hollered.

"Maybe now we will get some peace and quiet."

Dr. Roy, however, looked very displeased. "Carson! Are you insane?" he yelled, rushing forward with a medical kit. "He’s a trade piece! You can’t just dismantle the goods before we deliver them! Finch wanted a man, not a puzzle!"