Conticent

Behind the tents, a large building towered over the area, its neon sign flickering "Little Istanbul." This district used to have another name… though I can’t quite recall what it was. After the natural disasters ravaged Antapolis, the place was left in ruins and eventually forgotten. But a group known as The Big Ones stepped in and did what the government never could—they helped the people. They gave them a place to live, a way to work, a sense of normalcy. And, of course, everything wasn’t all sunshine and birds when The Big Ones were in charge.

As we walked, Leo suddenly grabbed my shoulder, halting me in my tracks. I looked up and noticed seven or eight people near the casino, talking among themselves while looking at the building.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“No idea,” he replied, eyes narrowing. “But I can tell you one thing for sure, C—nothing good. We should hide the fact that we are, well, the law.”

The Big Ones were notorious for their deeply rooted misogyny. They believed women had only two purposes: to bear children and tend to the home, always obedient to their husbands. Widows were despised by them, and the idea of a modern, equal world was something they flat-out rejected. Their rules were brutal and unforgiving. Rumors said they hung gay men by their bags and buried women alive with their newborns if they gave birth to three consecutive daughters.

The side doors of the Little Istanbul slammed open, and out came Atilla Nieben, the leader of The Big Ones. Towering just shy of two meters, easily over 100 kilos, he was a built and intimidating man in his forties. His face was full of scars, and I think his one hand was equal to my two.

He dragged a young woman by her hair, tossing her forward as he grabbed her by the throat. It was clear things were about to get ugly. The street vendors hurriedly packed up their stalls, and the kids playing games nearby scattered.

The woman, crying and desperate, clutched Atilla's legs, using him for support as she struggled to her feet. She begged for her life, pleading for mercy.

“Two days ago,” Atilla’s booming voice echoed, “We were ambushed by the Forgottens. I lost six of my men there. Six. Aaron Skelder, Felix Murad, Adam Pale, Cem Vurgun, Halil Tez, and Richard Batel. I dug every one of their graves myself. Didn’t ask for anyone’s help. I buried my family with my own hands. Do you have any idea how long it takes to dig a grave?”

The woman sobbed, shaking. “N-no, I don’t know.”

“Five hours. Thirty hours without food or water. I couldn’t disgrace them by stopping to eat. Don’t you agree?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

“And what were you doing, Yağmur?” Atilla continued. “You were sitting in the warm, cozy house I gave you. Chatting with the other of my wives. Life was pretty sweet for you, wasn’t it? Am I wrong?”

“No—I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

He raised his index finger, signaling her to be quiet. “You had one job. While I was out there dodging bullets and defending our pride, your only responsibility was to cook the damn meal. That’s it. While I was bleeding for my men, you had one single task: to make dinner.” Atilla’s voice grew more intense.

“I forgot! I swear I forgot! I thought it was Karen’s turn!”

“You forgot? Unbelievable.”

Atilla pulled his gun from his belt, clicking off the safety. Without thinking, I instinctively reached for my service pistol, only to find my holster was empty. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I wasn’t thinking clearly, but what else could I do? If I stayed silent and let this woman die, the guilt would haunt my already sleepless nights. With or without a weapon, I had to do something.

Leo grabbed my arm and yanked me back. When we locked eyes, he gave a firm shake of his head without saying a word. I stared at him for a few seconds with my dull, tired eyes. Eventually, I nodded, straightened my clothes, and turned back to look at Atilla.

“We’re just going to watch?” I asked quietly.

“Atilla’s got over fifty men here, C. What are we gonna do, Jackie-chan our way out of this?” Leo muttered.

“Hmm,” I grumbled. “You’re the boss.”

I wanted Leo to stop me, because I didn’t want to help that woman since it was extremely dangerous.

If I wasn’t a cop, I wouldn’t even turn my head to look at that poor woman. I’d just be thankful that it wasn’t me in her position and move on with my life, like any other people would do in this rotten city.

I wasn’t a bad guy—but I wasn’t some fairy that spread glitter out of my ass, either. Like anyone else in West Antapolis, I asked the same question: What about me? In the end, I had to look out for myself, even as a cop. As one news site put it: In West Antapolis, every good deed has a price, and every bad deed gets a reward. The city had its own rules, and I was more than happy to abide by them—when they didn’t work against me, of course.

“We should’ve listened to Helion,” Leo muttered, a hint of regret in his voice. “Let’s turn back now.”

“I’m with you. Let’s get out of here.”

Atilla pressed the gun against the woman’s forehead, his finger poised on the trigger. But instead of firing, he hesitated, shook his head, and struck her with the butt of the pistol. She collapsed to the ground as he spat on her, then stormed back into the casino, slamming the side door behind him.

Just as Leo and I turned to leave, two burly men and the old guy from the shore blocked our path. We exchanged glances before focusing on them.

“Can we help you?” Leo asked, trying to keep things casual.

“I heard your guns have silver bullets,” one of the men growled. “Like those cops.”

“Show us some ID,” the second man demanded, his eyes narrowing. “Hand over them now.”

Leo gave a nervous chuckle. “Look, guys, we don’t want any trou—”

“Now!” the man barked, cutting him off.

Leo sighed, reluctantly reaching for his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. The old man snatched it from his hand, flipping it open to reveal Leo’s police ID card, the name Leo Adams printed in holographic text. The district and unit details shifted every couple of seconds.

The two men exchanged a glance while the old man, seemingly unimpressed, tossed Leo’s wallet back and walked away.

“You two are coming with us,” the taller one said, stepping closer. “You know what happened to the last cop who wandered into Little Istanbul?”

Leo tensed, forcing a weak grin. “What, you pulled him by the ear and kindly asked him to leave?”

The tall man smirked darkly. “Nah. We killed him and dumped his body in the sea, just like we always do.”

Leo’s grin faltered. “Well, boys, you better hope Moses stays dead. Because you’d be in a whole lot of trouble if he comes back.”

The taller man frowned. “Moses? What the hell are you talking about?”

Leo cleared his throat, realizing he was digging himself deeper. “You know, Moses... the guy who parted the sea. If he were to do the same thing the victims would be revealed and you—”

“Leo,” I interrupted, my voice flat and impatient. “Shut the fuck up.”