We're All Undercover

Late at night, at a Black Organization hideout.

Vodka groggily woke up.

"Wh-why did I fall asleep?"

He vaguely sensed that something was wrong, yet he could not put his finger on it.

After all, after spending most of the day in that tense and tedious prison cell, he truly was exhausted in both body and mind, pushed beyond his limits.

It was perfectly normal for him to drift off in a daze like that.

"What time is it now?"

Vodka looked up at the little ventilation window:

Outside, a moon had already risen high into the sky.

"Big Brother still isn't back?"

Vodka sighed despondently.

Then he moved his wrists, which had been rubbed bloody by the handcuffs, and wearily leaned against the high wall, collapsing weakly onto the cold floor.

The night grew deeper, the sky darker, and the air colder.

Yet there was still a faint light burning in his eyes:

"Big Brother won't abandon me. He won't."

"He'll definitely believe me!"

Vodka had pinned all his hopes on his Big Brother Gin.

And heaven seemed not to have disappointed him.

Just as he stared himself red-eyed, nearly despairing enough to bash his head against the wall, the heavy iron door finally opened.

Light poured into the dark cell.

It also revealed the tall, steady figure of that man.

"Big Brother!"

Vodka nearly burst into tears.

"Y-you came to let me go?"

Gin did not answer.

He merely walked slowly into the cell and silently turned on the light.

As the room brightened, so did his face, cold and stern as ice.

Bourbon, Kir, Irish, and Curacao then filed into the cell behind him.

Their expressions might not have been as icy as Gin's, but their eyes all held undisguised wariness and hostility.

"Big Brother, you all..."