Arknights story · People, A People
PA-3 Sun Shines Upon Grypherburg
Sonya rallies the arguing students to rescue those deceived by the thugs. She learns that most of the students were tricked by the thug leader Gromov into a human auction on the way. After weathering a series of brutal clashes and misunderstandings, Sonya makes up her mind to take Gromov down.
2 scenes, 398 lines
1. Before Operation
193 linesSay that again!
The Vanguards will not be retrieving Leonid's corpse. Did you get it this time?
His corpse? He's warming himself up by the fireplace right now, laughing at idiots like you!
You just want to wait here your whole life, fighting over scraps of food and firewood!
I knew you Vanguards were useless imbeciles the moment you started yelling about rescuing Lavrya by force!
Go ahead then, go kneel before those thugs. I want to see if you really can get out, or if you'll be sent back like Shorty.
We're off—
You guys really are still stuck in the same rut, huh...
Rosalind? What are you doing here?
I came to help Sonya, and to stop you dumbasses from throwing your lives away while I'm at it!
Hmph. Why worry about what they're doing...?
Yesterday, when that guy named Fedya carried Shorty's body back, they were still making snide remarks.
...Listen, it is dangerous out there. Those thugs will not let you walk away, no matter how much you pay them.
You think it's true just because you said so? Who the hell do you think you are? You saw Shorty bribe them with your own eyes, did you?
I—
His pockets were so clean, not even lice would live in them. How could he ever come up with the idea of bribing someone? He must have been killed when trying to break out.
That's just a guess, but those guys who call themselves the 'Council of Sixteen' aren't the kind of people you can bargain with.
Sonya... When you were away, someone sent us a letter. It's from Naum, from the Symposium.
He writes: 'The leader of the Council of Sixteen, Gromov, is a reasonable man. So long as you have enough money, we can walk free.'
Where's the letter?
Here.
Is that all? Are we done? Just let us leave this damned place already.
Wait.
You've got no grounds to stop us, Sonya! Not even you!
Out of our way!
He rashly pushes his way through the crowd, reaching out to grab hold of Zima's sleeve.
Blam! A loud slap slams into his face.
It is almost as if the slap has pushed some button, when everyone grinds to a halt.
Wake up already! Don't you understand what this letter means?
You Symposium people are writing day in, day out. Would any of you have handwriting this sloppy? It's practically going off the page. The best possible outcome here is that he's trading your lives for a meal.
That's not true—
You seriously haven't figured it out? Or do you like keeping your head stuck in the sand? Still stubbornly believing in a way out of here that doesn't involve fighting back?
......
Then... What should we do?
Save lives.
This letter and Shorty should be enough proof that the Council of Sixteen is dangerous. We can't just sit by and watch as Leonid drags a bunch of people to their deaths.
If only one of them still lives, I'll bring them back. If they're all still alive, I'll bring them all back.
Do you have a death wish too, Sonya?
If they got caught, that's just proof they were stupid and weak. They deserve to die—
Shut up, Faddey.
I'm sick of you always insulting the other students. We need unity, if we want to keep everyone alive.
Unity? Hah! This empire was built by throwing weaklings like these Symposians into the river, one by one!
So, when Ursus finally got thrown into the river, you got pulled along with it, huh?
......
There's no Vanguard or Symposium here. No nobles or commoners.
There's only one thing we are in the eyes of that 'Council of Sixteen': fresh meat ready for butchering.
Yesterday, they killed Shorty. Tomorrow, they'll squish each and every one of our heads like helpless bugs. And right now, we're bickering our asses off. They don't need to split us up, we're doing it for them.
Even so, those slowing us down—
What about you, Faddey?
When have you ever contributed a damn thing? Or is your 'greatness' just an empty shell, only able to be filled by watching the weak fall apart?
Keep your stupid superiority complex, it'll keep you company while you wait to turn into a corpse!
As for everyone else... If you don't feel like dying a miserable death in a place like this, grab something you can crack a few skulls with.
I'm not asking you all to like the Symposium or anyone else, not even for a second... but right now, you gotta keep up with me if you want everyone to live!
The air seems to have frozen as she finishes her speech. Nobody dares to break the silence.
Until Leto spots a hand. A student cautiously raises his hand, the hesitance still clear on his face. But he is the first of his peers to answer her.
'Pencil Stub'! 'Pencil Stub', right? Whaddya feel like saying?
I... support Sonya's idea.
Those who left are our peers, our friends. We can't abandon them.
But if possible, call me by my real name. I'm—
I support her too! Whether they're dead or alive, I just want to see how they really are!
I'm with her—
Several students stand up, then more, and even more. They gather by Sonya's side.
Good. Ten or so of you should be enough to make a scouting party.
I know a lot of you are still skeptical, but don't worry. I'll bring an answer back to you.
...Count me in.
Are you thinking of—
Don't overthink it. I just want to prove I'm right, so I can slap those Symposium cowards in the face.
So, what do we do? Just give us the order, Sonya.
First, we need to find a route we can use to flank the Council of Sixteen—
Err, Antosha told me to send you guys some supplies.
Have I come at a bad time?
Perfect timing, actually. I was just thinking of going to your camp to get a guide, Matvey.
If a fight breaks out, I'll make sure you're safe.
Don't underestimate me, Sonya.
Antosha wants to kill Gromov, but we were never able to find his lair.
But luckily, our attempts to scout it out have led us to several of the thugs' active bases. We've got their details down—
Trouble up ahead, Sonya!
Suka! They're getting closer!
What do we do, Nika? You always have ideas.
Don't panic, Yeremey, in just a moment—
The door bolt won't hold much longer!
What about the window, Nika? If we can't hold here, can we—
No go. There's two of them outside the window, and they've got steel pipes.
Come here and help me brace against this table. It's our last line of defense.
Her voice wavers as she thrusts a shiny kitchen knife into her friend's hands, pressing both hands down on the table corner like her life depends on it.
Yeremey takes a deep breath, pushing against the table's edge with his entire body. Though his forehead is covered in cold sweat, his face does not show a hint of cowardice.
Hey there, honored 'guests'.
Don't bother trying to resist. We just wanna talk 'business'.
Yeah, it's below twenty out here. Let us in already, we're freezing. Is this how kids these days treat visitors?
If you don't open up, our 'service charge' is gonna go up to... say, an arm.
Get lost!
There's a ton of Originium-tipped bolts in this room pointed right at the door! Come any closer and you die!
Pfft. Originium-tipped bolts? You hear that, Pacient? She's got Originium-tipped bolts!
Oooh, I'm so scared! Hahahaha—
I'd believe you if you said you managed to rustle up some borscht in this cesspit, but Originium-tipped bolts? Pull the other one. I've already taken the Originium out of every contraption in the area.
Well, if you kids don't want to play nice, then don't blame us for what's next.
Remember, keep them alive, otherwise we can't answer to the boss. You're up first, Pacient!
It feels as if every swing of the axe is hacking at the students' minds. A crack opens up in the door, and a filthy, tattooed hand forces its way in, trying to unlatch the bolt.
(Quietly) Now.
Here's a one-way trip back to the hospital, Pacient!
He bellows as he lunges at the trespassing hand, stabbing it with his knife.
Argh! My hand! That punk actually stabbed me!
Smash the door down! Skin those little bastards alive!
The axe blows intensify, the wooden door now riddled with cracks. Snow-laden wind pours into the room as several tall shadows gather around the door, forming a wall of despair.
...Listen, Yeremey.
If they catch us, they'll take us back and torture us... so don't hesitate, whether you have to do it to me, or to yourself.
Got it.
Nika, if we live through this, I—
Save it for after we live through it! They're coming! Aim for the throat!
The thugs grin wickedly as they pass through the doorframe, brandishing their steel pipes. Yeremey closes his eyes in desperation, readying his crude weapon for one last strike—
But the pain never comes. The Ursus who was oh-so arrogant earlier flies through the air like a burlap sack, slamming into the snow-covered ground outside. There is no further movement from him.
Who dares—ARGKH!
I do. Got that?
The tall figure blocking the doorway does not even have time to turn his head before a hand bashes it against the frame.
Zima steps over his collapsed body, flicking the blood off her hands.
Y-You're...
Hey hey, General Zima's here to save you.
Finally—
She cannot stop the tears from flowing, her tense shoulders collapsing from relief.
Don't worry, just take your time telling us what happened. We're here to help.
Were you with Leonid?
Leonid?
He's dead...
?!
Those bastards came up with something: an 'auction'.
Their boss Gromov cheated us. He said we'd be able to buy our freedom as long as we had enough money.
But it was all a lie. It turned into a slaughterhouse.
Gromov had his people grade everyone like meatbeasts. The nobles with money were led to a building, and the commoners... I don't know what happened to them.
Thankfully, Yeremey was suspicious, and he didn't go straight in. We had to run for our lives to escape their pursuit.
As for Leonid, he was full of confidence when he tried to 'discuss' things with Gromov...
He's buried here?
Da, behind the building.
Nika and I both saw it. One of the bastards dragged him over and was looting him for his clothes and watch.
At the time, we thought we had managed to escape their base. Seeing that made me feel faint.
Nika grabbed a crowbar and gave that scumbag a surprise attack when he wasn't looking.
We hid in his house, and we made it through the night, but we never expected his friends to show up at the door on the second day.
I killed a man... but this was the only way we could avenge Leonid.
Something's off.
We're still some distance away from the gang's base. They might come here on occasion to loot things, but they'd never actually live here, but you said this was one of their houses...
But he took a spade and some rations from this house. I thought—
No need to be so tense. Where did you bury him? I want to confirm his identity.
Why... are there corpses by the door?
...What did you people do to my house?
Your house, gospozha?
Where... Where's my husband? Have you seen him? He's just an ordinary worker, wearing a gray jacket. It's the last bit of warm clothing we have...
All the color drains out of Nika and Yeremey's faces in an instant. They give a subconscious glance towards the mound of dirt.
Y-You don't mean—
...Dig him up.
The first thing to be unearthed is the deceased's patchwork gray jacket, followed by his cheeks, his head... and the dark red crack across his temple.
The woman crouches by her husband, her body shaking like a rusty machine as she strokes his face. It is the coldest thing she has touched in her entire life.
I-I didn't know, I really didn't.
We thought he was with that Council of Sixteen because he was taking Leonid's clothes!
Council? Clothes?
Why can't we take things off the dead people Gromov kills?
We've been doing this for two whole months since they stopped all work here! What's wrong with making a living?! What do you know?!
You... You students, you murderers—
We're not—
We're very sorry, gospozha.
......
Forgive me, madam... Here, this watch is pure gold! And these silver coins... Take them! Please don't cry!
I'm so, so sorry! There's also these things we took from those thugs.
Without a word, Sonya pulled out her rations and essentials, placing them before the woman.
The other students were stunned for a moment, then silently began offering up whatever supplies they had managed to find.
...Ma'am. We were locked in here not long ago and had no idea what it was really like. Those atrocities... everyone has been on edge.
But regardless... we made mistakes, and we will take responsibility for them.
We will accept whatever punishment you deem fit.
Please, take this as a token of our regret... Our camp is just nearby. We will do everything we can to help you and your child get through this.
I am truly sorry. I was the one who acted. It had nothing to do with Yeremey, Sonya, or the others. If you must punish someone, punish—
The woman lifts her head. There is no desire in her eyes, merely an empty hate.
She grabs the coins and the watch, throwing them at Nika's face.
GET OUT!
Take your blood money with you! You think you can buy Ivan's life with these pieces of metal? You think it will bring back the father of my children?!
You can do anything, can't you? You dare to kill, yes? Then why didn't you dare to kill the man who did all of this? You can all go to hell!
......
If we weren't forced to live like this... Why would my husband become a robber and rob the dead of their clothes? Why would we have to become such wretched things...?
Alright then.
If it'll bring you some peace or closure, we'll do it.
Both for you, and for our friends... I swear to you, Gromov, who caused all of this, will die this winter.
Please, take care of yourself... When we smash open the gate to the quarantine zone, we will all get out of here together.
If that's the case...
Have Nika and Yeremey show you the way, Sonya. I'll head back and get help from Antosha.
She pulls up Nika, slumped against the ground. She leads the students into the snowstorm, where they fade from sight.
(Sobs)...
Wh-Why are you still here? To laugh at me?!
Not long after I was born, my mother had to bury my father on her own. He was killed by bandits.
You—
Your husband was no criminal, and he never hurt anyone. He fought for you and your children, until the very end.
Don't let his sacrifice be in vain. Take everything he fought so hard for... and live.
He takes the gold watch she threw away, forcing it into the icy palm of her hand, and folds her fingers around it.
2. After Operation
205 linesGlug. Glug.
I watch the bubbles in the water cooler. They rise up in an unending stream, and then they pop.
Many people are walking out of the dour hall, taking advantage of the arbiter calling a recess to stretch their legs, and voice their opinions on the matter while they are at it.
In my moment of distraction, the water overflows, spilling onto the floor. The noblewoman behind me languidly moves away from the puddle, afraid the 'pure snowmelt from Sami' would damage her worn leather boots.
Bozhe moy, I once had the exact same pair...
I quickly spin my wheelchair, attempting to flee.
Varvara? Is that you?
I can hardly believe it. You look...
Help me carry these books, they're too heavy!
I need to save my strength for tonight's script reading—No, you can't come! This is a student group internal event.
...Are you surprised?
No, Varvara. That's not what I mean.
We were childhood friends. The bond between nobles is not so easily broken.
Do you still think of me as a noble when you see me like this?
What do you—
Did you not hear what Zoya and that other girl said?
Why would that Arbiter twist everything we have endured?
Ha, haha. Looking at my trousers?
It's fine, look as much as you like. It's not going to bring my shins back.
Bozhe moi...
Varvara... This is... O, bozhe moi!
The votes been tallied yet?
Yeah.
The boss decided that, from now on, we're the 'Sixteen Warriors'.
But why?! I read in an old book that the first sixteen to follow Igor Velikiy got a title that meant 'councilmember', so 'Council' is the only choice!
Shut up about your stupid theories... Besides, if we're a 'Council', then we gotta respect a vote, right? Right now everyone thinks 'Warriors' sounds better.
Blyat. I get less and less happy making this money.
It's not just the name change. Now we suddenly need to keep track of our results, see who can handle the most kids...
Enough whining. Saw you slacking off yesterday, you want the boss to scream his head off at you?
Shut up. I sent one of them off last night.
Who?
The one who said he was 'pure Grypherburger stock', Leonid Gelashvili or something.
I checked some Grypherburg copies of the Almanac of Nobility, didn't see the family there. Then I decided to check some chronicles. Turns out, they're just an ordinary family from the south.
The boss only wanted real nobles, so I handled him.
*sigh* Why bother going to all that trouble? Could've just listened to his accent. Did he sound like a Grypherburger?
Accent? I've been shut in this damn place for too long, almost forgot what the locals are supposed to sound like.
Hey, you, you a Grypherburger?
He gives his seat a pat, and he gets a yelp of fear in return. A student kneels on the ground underneath his buttocks, serving as his chair.
I-I-I-I'm a Grypherburger!
I've got the accent, I've got family! Please, let me go, gospodin!
If I remember right... You're not supposed to speak while you're being a chair. The boss is gonna get real mad at me if he sees this.
So shut your mouth, alright? If you stay nice and quiet for an hour, I won't see you off today.
Alright, enough. These kids don't have it easy, what with you terrorizing them all day.
You, lecturing me?
You're the guy who's happy to sit on a stiff corpse.
Upon hearing her comrade's words, the thug pulls her knife out of her 'cushion', warm blood dripping off its blade.
I like sitting cross-legged, doesn't matter to me if they're dead.
...Hey, that little countess there? She's dragging some other girl along with her, think she's a noble too—
Save your strength, dearie. There's nowhere for you to run with all of us here.
No, I beg you—
I gave Gromov all my money. He said I'm a noble, and that I'll leave here alive.
You gave it to him, but not to me. Besides, I don't care about the money.
I only care about order, understand? I'll say it clearly, no fighting in the dorm. Who said you could hit that Symposithingy boy?
I didn't hit anyone! I just gave him a push—
Excuses! I told you kids a thousand times, fighting is wrong! When will you kids actually listen?
You need to be punished.
...Punished... what?
Hey, Warriors! Beat the life outta this spoiled little princess. I'll think of what to say to Gromov.
You got it!
Varvara closes her eyes tight. A gust of wind sweeps by her cheek, and a few drops of warm liquid splash across her forehead.
She shudders as she opens her eyes. The raised stick is gone, along with its master.
Who's next?!
Zima stands before Varvara, waving about a bloodstained steel pipe as she bellows out her challenge.
There are more footsteps and angry shouts, but they are soon replaced by cries of pain.
Hey! Don't even think about running!
Aren't you guys the Warriors now? How come even an Originium slug can take more punches than you?
I've got them!
We've cut off their escape route too, Sonya! They're not going to get away!
Before long, the nearby Warriors are sprawled out across the ground. Leto pats the dust off her hands, giving one of their heads a good kick before moving back to Sonya's side.
All taken care of, General.
Great! Time for a break.
Zima crouches down, stretching out a hand to Varvara.
Though Zima's face is still stained with blood, it is the face that has brought her the most relief these past few days.
You're... Varvara? There are our people here?
Chyort... Just how many Vanguards were captured...?
Not important. Focus on saving people.
......
Can you still stand, Varvara?
I...
Sonya!
*sob*... Sonya, Faddey, I thought I was going to die...
Do I remember that you're the daughter of a soldier? Dry your tears.
It's fine, seriously.
Mm... Right.
Listen, we're here to get everyone back.
Is it just you here? Where are the other students being held?
They're... They're in the building on the north side.
Gromov said the 'VIP Lounge' and 'Common Waiting Area' were there. There's still lots of students trapped in there, but I know the way, at least.
Lead the way.
Varvara tugs on Zima's hand, using her strength to stand. Though she still trembles, the light has returned to her eyes.
It is the light of a drowning girl who has grabbed onto a buoy. Though she does not know what exactly lies behind that door, she believes that as long as Sonya is with her, it is an exit out of this forsaken place.
We've gotten everyone out, General.
Those thugs were pretty much all bark. Most of the people who were captured are still alive, but... they've been through a lot.
Speaking of the thugs, been a while since we saw them. Almost feels like something's off, haha.
Shut up. You're the only one who likes those bastards.
This building's too close to the exit. It'll be easy to spot us. We can't wait for everyone to calm down before we act.
Pencil Stub, get everyone organized, then lead the way. Rosalind, hold the rear with me.
Got it, General.
Hah. You see? Nicknames are easier to work with, da?
The rescued students, several dozen in all, are huddled along the road like canned fins. Some of them had their jackets taken away, their faces streaked with tears.
But with Pencil Stub and his team's coaxing, they slowly stand up and follow their lead, heading towards their camp.
Finally. We're saved.
The sun is out. Let's go, quickly. I'd rather die than go back to that blasted place.
Wait. What's that sound?
Someone's coming. Hide in the buildings, and don't do anything stupid!
Before anyone can react, the Sixteen Warriors appear at the very back of the group, escorting a burly Ursus.
Shrieks break out at the sight of them, and everything immediately devolves into chaos. A few people shout, trying to maintain order, but to no avail.
Stay calm! I'll handle them!
Oh? You must be the Sonya they were talking about.
You're pretty small, aren't you? But you sure can fight.
You Gromov? What're you doing here?
Haha. Your fellow students were too hasty, forgot a few important things.
Seeing as some people came to the auction, but want to leave without buying a ticket... I've got no choice but to teach them a lesson. Personally.
There's one part you got wrong. I'm the only one you'll be facing.
Just you?
What, scared?
That weapon you've got looks like a hammer and an axe had a baby. Fearsome.
Didn't think its master would be a spineless coward.
...Pfft. Hahahaha—
You're the third one to get a laugh out of me today, little bear. The other two, I already dumped in the snow. They're wishing they had never been born.
Come, take a good look at my weapon!
What the—
It is an ebon maw, a voracious abyss.
......
Are they pushing a... cannon?
Ready—
Get to cover!
The pitch-black muzzle slowly rises, the grinding of gears piercing the silence. Panic breaks out as people scramble to hide themselves where they can, holding their breath as they wait for the cannon's roar.
Run! To the buildings by the road!
Fire!
For a moment, all sound is driven out of Katorga. All that remains is a keen ringing in the ears.
Zima pokes her head out of a snowbank, her sight blurred by blood. Though she leapt out of the center of the blast, shrapnel has left a gash across her forehead.
Under a layer of dust, a scorched, black pit mars what was once level ground. Flames climb their way up the wooden doors. Around her, there are the bleeding, the injured, the fallen.
Wh... Why?! Most of us are noble!
Because you pissed me off, you snot-nosed little intellectual.
There's only one real rule among the Sixteen Warriors: have your last words ready if you ever make me angry!
Ready the second round—
Get everyone out of here, Rosalind! I'll draw their fire! That's an order!
Dammit!
Gromov's laughter can still be heard through the artillery barrage. He does not bother aiming, wantonly raining down fire across the area. Watching pathetic insects scurry about is his greatest joy, after all.
The ramshackle buildings sway. Varvara had been through too much today. She stands by a stone pillar, her eyes blank...
Move!
AHH!
M-My legs, I—
Oh, no no no no NO, I can't feel my legs!
...Save it. You're still alive.
Faddey! You're bleeding! I need to—
...No. Don't you get it? Just run.
Take that Varvara girl with you, and run. All of you. Don't bother about me...
......
I said, RUN!
Take care, Faddey...
Grab onto my shoulders, Varvara. You're still alive, so just hang on—
As the girls fade into the distance, Faddey lets out a deep breath. The last vestige of his consciousness is beginning to scatter.
...So that's what it feels like... to get something done... to be a hero...
The perfect time... for graduation day...
Ahh... Feels good to let out all that pent-up frustration that's been building up these past few days.
Keep going, don't give them any time to breathe.
Alright, I'm on—ARGH!
Gromov leaps aside as a crossbow bolt sprouts out of his lackey's chest. He looks towards its source: a high-rise, from which more bolts are coming.
The Unbound? It's that Antosha again!
C'mon, keep loading more shells! I'll bury him along with the students!
Gromov! Stop!
Your reckless actions have alarmed Gospodin Pavlovich, and he demands that you cease firing at once. If you dare hurt another noble, he'll have your hide!
......
Hey, Boss... Do we retreat?
Retreat? Forgotten how to fight without a cannon, have we?
Go catch Antosha! If you don't deal with him, it'll be your hides on the line!
Now get lost!
You got it!
People covered in bandages throng around tonight's bonfires, repeating their experiences today to anyone within earshot, relishing in the joy of the survivor.
Leto still has energy to burn, so she and a few students with medical knowledge run around the camp, making themselves useful.
As for Nika, Yeremey and Pencil Stub, they sit together in silence, fidgeting with the firewood.
Varvara lies in a deep sleep after receiving treatment. She dreams of the parts of her body she has lost forever... as well as her peers, also gone for good.
The noble girl's alright now. Matvey has brought people to look after her and the other wounded.
Thank you. No amount of thanks could express what we feel. Matvey and the others are professionals when it comes to treating wounds. The Unbound has done so much for us.
Heh. Those non-producing nobles will never understand that workers are far more capable than they are. Even if you start with no skills, as long as you want to survive, Ursus will always 'teach' you.
That's why I can't understand why you'd waste medicine and energy on these people. They're not worth the effort.
I was the one who took them with me, and I promised them I'd bring everyone back. I saved a few people, but others... They believed in me, but they couldn't come back with us.
Either way, you did all you could. The camp here is much more crowded. You brought back most of them. Mission accomplished.
But I still have to warn you. Don't expect anything from those spoiled princelings and princesses. There might come a day when you regret saving their sorry hides.
Don't try and deny it, Sonya. You and I both know how few nobles there are who recognize the need to fight for themselves. You should rely on people with more determination.
......
You're wrong, Antosha.
Look at the faces around the bonfire. Doesn't matter if they're noble or common, there's always someone with their fists clenched tight.
As long as they haven't given up on resisting, as long as the fire still burns inside them... I won't turn my back on anyone.
I need them. They can become fighters.
You're delusional.
There's only ever a small subsection of the people who are actually decisive. You should pick a team of smart, hard-working, ordinary students, and come with me.
Once we get rid of the two in charge, we'll be out of here quick.
Thanks, Antosha, but I've already made my decision.
When the crisis hits, no one can stay out of it. I will turn them into a real unit. No one gets left behind.
Doesn't matter if it's Gromov, Pavlovich, or those assholes pushing the cannon while they look down on us—
We'll knock them all to the ground!
Today's operation might've given you prestige, but it's also given you blind faith.
I don't understand how those soft-handed weaklings who can't even hold a weapon tight are meant to take down those madmen, and that cannon.
As long as they can walk and make a fist, they can do it. I'll start by teaching them how to march.
Past experience tells me that, with the right tactics, even a weakling can be worth ten men.
As for the cannon, all we can do is wait for the right opportunity. We can't take it head-on, for now at least.
Maybe... My friends can bring us some opportunities.
Your friends? The ones outside Katorga?
Yeah.
How can you be so sure they're working on helping you?
I've got absolutely zero doubt they are.
You can't imagine the things we've been through together.