I Can Extract Game Items

In the aftermath of the chaos, August paced around his wrecked living room with a pale but furious look.

Two of Damon's goons lay tied up on the floor, bruised and utterly immobilized. Their wrists were bound behind their backs with cords he had found around the house, while one of them groaned from a bloody nose, half-awake and dazed.

August clutched his phone with trembling fingers as he dialed yet again. The line rang on the other end for the umpteenth time.

He needed this call to go through. He needed the money now if he had any hope of getting Sophia back.

Finally, the ringing stopped, and a familiar voice answered. "Aleman," Mr. Floozk's voice drawled with its usual cool, calculated calm. "I wasn't expecting you. Our meeting's not until this afternoon, you know."

"I know, I know," August responded quickly, his voice tight. "But I need to ask you a favor, and it can't wait."

"A favor?" Mr. Floozk's voice sharpened with interest. "And here I thought our only business today was the Runic Sword. What seems to be the matter?"

August hesitated as he searched for the right words. "I... there's been an incident," he started with a voice that barely hid the strain. "Someone very important to me has been taken. I need the funds as soon as possible to try and negotiate their release."

On the other end of the line, Mr. Floozk paused. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its usual nonchalance, replaced by a serious edge. "How soon do you need this?"

"Today, now, within the next thirty minutes if possible," the words tumbled out of August's mouth as he swallowed his pride. "Please. I know we planned to meet later, but if you can—"

"I'll be there in less than thirty," Mr. Floozk interrupted, sounding uncharacteristically decisive. "And Aleman," he added, "when I get there, you can tell me everything."

"Thank you," August breathed in relief as he ended the call.

He couldn't lose Sophia.

But before he could leave, he dialed another number. "911, what's your emergency?"

"This is August Revenant. I've just detained two individuals who attacked me in my home. There was a break-in, and... one of them has serious injuries. Could you send someone over?"

The dispatcher confirmed help was on the way. With that, August left the house, sparing only a final look at the two battered goons lying helplessly on his floor.

...

...

The atmosphere in the dimly lit restaurant felt tense as August sat across from Mr. Floozk.

The man, an underground figure with a reputation as ironclad as his forthright stare, was leaning forward with his fingers steepled as he listened intently to August's hurried explanation.

Around them, ten menacing bodyguards stood at the ready, each one scanning the room for any sign of threat.

Mr. Floozk had already transferred the five hundred thousand dollars to August's account without a hint of hesitation, showing an unusual level of trust in someone he'd met only recently. Now, August took a deep breath, carefully choosing what to share.

"...and I know I don't have a choice," August said quietly, barely masking the fury simmering beneath his calm facade. "If I'm going to get her back, I need to give them the money. Damon... he's not someone the local police will bother crossing. He has them in his pocket."

Mr. Floozk's expression turned from cool interest to something darker. He sat back and his facial expression twitched a little at the mention of Damon.

He tilted his head slightly, studying August with a discerning eye.

"So let me get this right," Floozk finally spoke. "This Damon has taken someone close to you, and your plan... is to hand over the cash and hope he lets her go?"

August felt a wave of frustration. "It's not a matter of what I want. I don't have another choice. If I'm going to get her back in one piece, this is the fastest way. I know it's not ideal, but I can't risk her life by trying to play coy."

Mr. Floozk raised an eyebrow as his lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile. "And yet here you are, having dealt with his goons alone. You know, Aleman, I didn't think you were a man so easily intimidated."

August hesitated as his gaze dropped for a moment. "It's not intimidation. I'll do anything to keep her safe, and right now, that means giving them what they want."

For a moment, the two men sat in silence as August's words settled between them. Finally, August rose to his feet, inclining his head toward Mr. Floozk. "Thank you for this. Really. I owe you more than I can say."

He turned to leave, but Floozk's voice stopped him mid-step.

"Hold up," Mr. Floozk commanded with a quiet but unyielding tone."My men and I... we'll be coming with you."

August blinked, taken aback. "Mr. Floozk, you don't have to—"

"It wasn't a question," Floozk cut him off with a smirk. "You may want to handle this delicately, but let's just say a permanent solution is a better way to go."

August hesitated. "Look, I need to make sure she's safe first. I can't risk it."

Floozk gave a light chuckle as his expression hardened. "And you think this Damon cares about playing it safe? Trust me, Aleman, he seems like the type to take advantage of any show of weakness. You want her safe? Let's go in with the right kind of strength. So, do you know where he's keeping her?"

"Not exactly," August admitted, swallowing back a wave of frustration. "But I got the location of his nightclub from one of the goons I... persuaded earlier. It's likely he's keeping her there, or close by."

Without missing a beat, Mr. Floozk pulled out his phone, dialing with a calm authority that showed this was far from his first time orchestrating a situation like this.

"Rosalind," he said into the phone. "I want every available man headed to this location. Full force. Don't leave any stone unturned. I'll be there shortly."

He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his coat pocket, glancing back at August. "Shall we?"

The two made their way outside, where a black car awaited, parked beside the curb. Mr. Floozk's bodyguards flanked them on all sides, deterring any approach.

As Floozk opened the back door, he gestured for August to enter. "Trust me on this one, Aleman. It's better to go in prepared. You'll have your dear one back, and this Damon will understand he crossed the wrong people."

August climbed into the car, trying to steady his racing heart.

...

...

The tension was tangible in the air August sat beside Mr. Floozk in the car, surrounded by the low noise of engines from the convoy of vehicles tailing them.
Your adventure continues at empire

Shadows from passing streetlights flickered across Mr. Floozk's face, casting him in an even more enigmatic light. August glanced at him, sensing something simmering beneath the man's calm demeanor.

Floozk finally broke the silence, carrying an edge of restrained anger. "I didn't just miss our meeting for a casual emergency, Aleman," he began while fixing his gaze on the road ahead. "In this line of work, there are always risks, but what happened... that was personal."

August leaned forward with piqued interest. "What exactly happened?"

Floozk paused, as if considering where to begin. "One of my primary business locations... my men found it in flames. A complete inferno. The fire spread so fast that even with my men there, everything was gone by the time it was under control. And it wasn't just property lost," he continued. "Three of my men were trapped, held hostage before it all went up. A few of my most trusted were killed. All that... and we didn't even catch the ones responsible."

August absorbed this with barely concealed shock. He knew Floozk was a powerful man, practically untouchable in the underworld.

For someone to have attacked him so directly and without fear of consequence was bold—and dangerous.

"That... that sounds like a targeted attack. Whoever did it was trying to send a message," August ventured, keeping his tone low.

Floozk nodded as his expression darkened. "Exactly. It was meant to cripple me. And while I've taken losses before, this was different. The men I lost, the location... that was more than just money. They wanted to hit where it hurt."

August wondered just how far-reaching Damon's influence was. "Did you find out who was behind it?"

Floozk's lips pressed into a thin line before he let out a mirthless chuckle, though his eyes were anything but amused. "That's the kicker, isn't it? My men on the scene reported hearing a single name being echoed repeatedly—like they wanted me to know. Just one name."

Floozk turned to look at August as he finally spoke the name. "Damon."

A look of shock rippled across August's face as he struggled to process the information. "Damon?" he voiced with nearly a whisper. "Are... are you sure? What if it's someone else?"

Floozk chuckled darkly. "Trust me, Aleman. There aren't many people with that name who match this... particular description. This is personal."