(TW: Mentions of Illegal Activities).

Oh boy, I just grabbed a pen on the spot and wrote this. Hint: this is set during the Riffoki "date".

Now that he had successfully sneaked the walkie-talkie to his room, Eron was starting to suspect it was not a good idea.

Would he say he "stole" it? Not really. But the cold feeling of the item in his pocket and the dull appearance it had were intimidating him. He wanted to find out whether it really belonged to Barur, and it did cross his mind that his fingerprints would get on it, so he caught it with the hem of his t-shirt and kept it in his pocket.

He was not an idiot, he was a journalist. (He didn't need a licence to tell him that).

Upon arriving home, he grabbed a pair of plastic gloves from the kitchen and dove into his room. He put them on and started to examine the object.

It was much different from usual walkie-talkies, for sure, made of black, icy metal. But it had no buttons, none that he could see yet anyway.

He found one soon enough though, a start button on it's side. Not thinking much of it, he clicked.

A deep demanding voice erupted from the speaker. Eron jumped back, almost dropping the device. 'Baru! What's taking so long? The second package ain't here and I've been waiting since the fucking morning. Ya better not get the cops on our throats again.'

Eron paled. There were more people behind this!

At his lack of answer, the man chuckled, 'Oh, Boss is so getting done with ya if ya don't get these arms sneaked out. 'miright Crats?'

Another voice, evidently amused, raised through the talkie, 'It'll be so fun watching him skin the newbie alive.'

A hand seemed to snatch device from the first. 'Give me that dumbass.' The newest took a few steps further. The first seemed very furious at the insult. "Crats" replied something like "He ain't wrong, Gredd."

'Baru,' the last started. 'You began this business hours ago. You have 30 minutes to deliver these to Cryptos at the northern outskirts like we agreed. I have matters to attend to so you better not screw it up while I'm gone.'

'Ayo, he's boasting about his "special mission" again.' Gredd complained in the background. 'Tone it a notch, Xathor. Just someone you gotta- fetch.' He mouthed the last word with sadistic venom.

Xathor ignored him, 'So, you gonna get your job done?'

Eron's anxiety was at it's peek. They wouldn't take long to realize they were not talking to Baru and God knows what will happen to him if he got involved further.

His panic kept him silent for longer than he thought and sure enough, the men picked up on its meaning.

'You are not Baru, are you?'

An inconvenient 'Uh-' accidentally escaped him. Eron slapped a hand over his mouth but it was too late. They had picked up on the high pitch of his voice.

A series of foul words were whispered by Xathor, 'You little spy! You better fucking run before we come for you. You are not getting away with it.

As more choice words and threats flew at Eron, he panicked and turned it off, throwing the walkie-talkie out the window and onto the street. Goddamn it they were a whole gang at the very least and they were after him. What the hell did he get himself into?

He first tried to stop hyperventilating. Deep breaths, Eron. Deep breaths.

Next, he launched from the room and out the door. He could here his mom calling him for dinner, but right now, he frankly couldn't care less. Luckily, the walkie-talkie was intact and turned off on the empty street. He grabbed it and took off to the nearest police station.

Yup, that was a very bad idea.

God, this was the moment I was waiting for. Revealing the darkans!

When I started the book, I didn't really mean to give Eron this much of a significant role, but I can not disappoint my readers. It actually gave the story a more interesting turn than I ever expected.

The pic above fits the mood perfectly tho...