At eight in the evening, Cain arrived at the bar as promised. Initially, he thought it would be a private invitation, but upon arrival, he realized he was mistaken. The entire tactical squad had gathered—it was more of a team-building event.
"Hey, Barry, you're early," Cain greeted with a smile. He was quite familiar with the tactical squad.
"It's not early. It's already evening," Barry replied stoically.
Barry was a composed and serious man, deeply principled. Initially, he had looked down on Cain, but after certain events, he came to respect the man's character. At their core, they were the same—though their methods differed, the end results were what mattered.
As the two chatted, the door opened again, and Jill walked in. She wore casual attire—a tube-top vest with straps around her neck and a short skirt paired with knee-high boots.
The outfit was youthful, vibrant, and undeniably alluring, reminiscent of her classic in-game look. A towel hung at her waist, as if ready for post-workout use.
Cain's eyes lit up at the sight. "You look stunning."
"Then put in the effort," Barry chuckled, patting Cain's shoulder. "If you want something, go for it. Don't regret inaction later."
Motivated, Cain strode over. He genuinely needed a woman like her in his life.
"Hey, Jill. You look amazing tonight."
Jill smiled at him, "Not as much as the women on the streets."
"To me, you're the most beautiful," Cain said, extending a hand. "How about a drink?"
"Sure."
Jill agreed without hesitation. Had Cain not saved her earlier that day, she wouldn't have entertained the idea. She didn't particularly like him—in fact, she found his shady dealings repulsive.
Cain smirked inwardly. His plan was simple: get Jill drunk.
They took their seats, and Cain ordered a strong cocktail.
"I've always hated chaos. I had to fend for myself from a young age, so I know how brutal life can be. It's a bitch—you either endure it or fight back. I chose to fight. At the very least, I refuse to die quietly."
Jill rested her chin on her hand, sipping her drink occasionally. She was no stranger to alcohol. As Cain spoke, her perception of him began to shift.
Barry intercepted anyone who tried to interrupt, content to play matchmaker for the two.
"So you've had your share of struggles? I owe you an apology—I misjudged you." Jill raised her glass. "A toast to you."
"Don't mention it. You only know someone's true nature after spending time with them. You're the most striking woman I've ever met—strong, independent. I admire that. I like you."
Cain didn't hide his attraction.
Jill tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that accentuated her femininity. "Thanks, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now."
"That's fine. I appreciate your honesty. Even if romance isn't on the table, I'd love to be friends. I don't want to be a saint, but I don't want to be a monster either. With you around, I'll at least have a moral compass."
Cain remained unfazed. He hadn't expected to win her over immediately.
"You're an interesting man," Jill laughed, downing another drink. Unbeknownst to her, they had polished off several rounds of cocktails.
Cain, having preemptively consumed yogurt to cushion the alcohol's effect, was still relatively steady. Jill, however, was visibly tipsy—partly due to Cain's captivating rags-to-riches story, from street thug to detective.
As the night wore on, both were pleasantly buzzed. Cain checked the time.
"It's getting late. Let me walk you home. You've had a long day."
"No need. I can manage," Jill slurred, shaking her head.
Cain pressed on. "I insist. As a friend, it's the least I can do. Besides, we're headed the same way—I've got some business to attend to later."
Jill didn't inquire further. After a brief pause, she relented. "Alright."
They hailed a cab instead of driving. Jill lived in a modest studio apartment—compact, with a living area, bedroom, and a tiny kitchen.
At the apartment entrance, Jill turned to him. "Thanks. I'll be fine from here."
"Goodnight, then," Cain said, feigning departure before abruptly turning back. "Wait, Jill."
Jill raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Mind if I use your bathroom?" Cain rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
Jill burst into laughter. The idea of a gang leader needing to borrow a restroom struck her as absurdly funny.
"Fine. Come on up."
Cain's heart raced. This was his chance.
Inside the apartment, Cain excused himself to the bathroom, adjusting his impressive twenty-centimeter length. Tonight was the night—he'd held back long enough.
Jill lit a cigarette in the living room, a beer on the table.
"You can go now."
Instead of leaving, Cain grabbed the beer.
"Thanks for the hospitality."
Jill headed to the bathroom, "Don't mention it."
Seizing the opportunity, Cain slipped a sleeping pill into another beer and set it aside.
When Jill returned, she swayed slightly.
"Still here?"
"Just taking a breather. Mind if I stay a bit longer?" Cain gestured to the spiked drink.
"Thirsty?"
Jill grabbed a water bottle from the fridge instead.
"Suit yourself. I'm dizzy—just lock up on your way out."
Little did she know, the water had been drugged too.