Chapter 137: Going Up In The World
Judging by Wolf’s comment, he clearly recognized the Rejected Corps, and not from hearsay or reputation. He knew them because of Dud. Just one look at the guy was all it took. It wasn’t the car, it wasn’t the way they were dressed, at least Max didn’t think that was the case, but because of one look at the man in front of them.
Max remembered the days when people would look at him and instantly remember who he was as well, but now was not the time for reminiscing.
Max found himself wondering why that hadn’t occurred to him sooner. Why hadn’t he asked Wolf about them? They were both street gang veterans. There was always a chance their paths had crossed, or at least brushed close.
Then again, Max reminded himself, they came from different cities. That was the main reason he hadn’t brought it up. He figured, since he hadn’t heard of the Rejected Corps before, it was safe to assume Wolf hadn’t either.
Wrong assumption.
They were approaching a crosswalk, waiting as a string of cars passed in front of them, the delay giving them a brief moment alone before they caught up to the others.
"Wait," Max said, cutting through the hum of engines. "You know them? As in, you’ve seen them before?"
Wolf didn’t hesitate. "Not all of them. You don’t need to stress about that. They won’t recognize me."
Max narrowed his eyes. "So how do you know who they are?"
Wolf nodded toward Dud across the street. "I know that guy. Dud. He’s the reason I know anything at all about the Rejected Corps."
He paused for a second, like he was weighing how much to say. Then he added, "He doesn’t know me. We’ve never met. But he stirred up a lot of trouble in the gang scene back in the day. More than you’d think. There were crews out for his head. He was a target for a while."
Max raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. I wasn’t involved, but I kept tabs. He caught my attention. So I learned his face. Found out eventually he ended up joining the Rejected Corps. I don’t know how strong the whole group is now... but that guy? Dud’s dangerous. That’s a fact."
Max thought back to the brief fight in the restaurant a few days ago. Dud had handled himself like a pro. Even then, Max could tell he wasn’t just some tough guy. But if Wolf had taken notice of him in the past, and if Dud had that kind of reputation among gangs...
Maybe Chrono and the rest of the Rejected Corps weren’t the real problem. Maybe it was Dud he needed to watch out for.
"Alright," Max said as the last car passed and the street cleared. He stepped forward, crossing with purpose. "I’ll double your pay."
Wolf gave him a sharp glance.
"But you better be worth every penny," Max added. "No dead weight."
Wolf grinned as he fell into step beside Max.
"You got it, boss. I won’t disappoint."
When they reached the car, they slid into the backseat. The interior was a surprise, sleek, spacious, and decked out with seats that felt more like cushions from a luxury lounge. Max instantly clocked that the back had more room than the front, and every inch screamed high-end.
But that wasn’t the only thing that caught their attention.
Someone was already in the driver’s seat. And it wasn’t Dud.
The man had a beard that masked most of his face and a deadpan expression that didn’t shift an inch when they entered. He wore a hat almost identical to Dud’s, same style, same strange insignia stitched into the top. The match wasn’t a coincidence.
"My name is Na," the man said, his tone clipped and direct. "I’ve been sent by the General to give you a taste of what life is like in the Rejected Corps." He glanced at them through the rearview mirror, sharp eyes locking on Max.
"I see you brought someone with you," Na added. "Let’s hope they’re not a disappointment. Chrono has high expectations for you."
"He won’t be," Max replied without missing a beat. "If we need to prove ourselves, we will."
Na gave a curt nod. "Good answer."
The car pulled away from the curb, slipping smoothly into the flow of city traffic. The world outside became a blur of buildings and neon.
Na spoke again, his voice calm, almost casual. "This car? Costs as much as an apartment. It’s one of the perks we Sergeants get. A luxury, granted by the General himself."
Max exchanged a quick look with Wolf, eyebrows raised.
Na continued, "Unlike most gangs out there, our General believes in rewarding the people who matter."
At that moment, Dud turned around in the passenger seat, meeting their eyes for the first time.
"In case the titles confuse you," he said, his voice steady, "our group runs kind of like a military outfit. Ranks, pay, privileges, they all come from the top. From the General. Chrono."
He paused, making sure they were following.
"Everything you get, everything you keep, it depends on your rank."
"Me and Na? We’re the same rank, Sergeants," Dud explained, his voice low but steady. "Just one step below the General. The ranking system doesn’t really make a lot of sense, to be honest. Everyone came from different units, different pasts, so we simplified things."
Wolf was struggling to keep a straight face. It was obvious, the Rejected Corps were pulling out all the stops to impress them. The car. The conversation. Even the effort in having someone like Na personally show up. It wasn’t just about Max anymore. They were trying to win both of them over.
But they had no idea.
They didn’t realize Max had just agreed to pay enough to buy two of these luxury cars, just to have Wolf at his side. That knowledge, the sheer irony of it, was almost too much for Wolf to handle. It was eating him alive on the inside.
Na spoke again, this time more pointedly. "The reason Chrono is putting his neck on the line for you, Max, and maybe your friend, if he surprises us, is because he sees potential in you."
He glanced in the rearview mirror again, making sure Max was listening.
"He saw potential in Dipter too. The plan was to make him a Lieutenant in the organization. But you beat him. You outmatched him. That changed everything."
Max stayed quiet, his mind already racing ahead.
"Now," Na continued, "Chrono wants you to rise to that level. To become a Lieutenant yourself."
Max thought back to the last time he was wrapped up in a fight alongside Dud. The war with the Chalkline Boys. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the memory burned bright.
The car slowed, then pulled into a lot. Max looked out the window.
They’d stopped in front of a massive restaurant, two stories tall with a huge, stylized dragon coiled around the building’s face. Its body curled in an endless loop, lit up with pulsing neon. A hot pot place. High-end.
Na turned in his seat slightly. "Look, here’s the truth. What we need most right now is strength. Strength to grow the Rejected Corps. Not just in numbers, but in status . We’re aiming for something bigger."
Dud nodded, backing him up. "There aren’t many people who match what we need. The General’s picky. We’re not just grabbing randoms off the street."
Na picked it back up. "We don’t want to be seen as a street gang anymore. That label? It holds us back. We’re aiming higher now. We want to be known as the next tier, an organized group ."
Max’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"And the Chalkline Boys?" Na added. "They’re not some small-time crew, like Dud tried to explain last time. They’ve already made that jump. They’re an organized group. And right now, we’re in the middle of a full-scale war with them."
"If we win this war," Na said, his voice steady, "we rise. All of us. And if you’re with us when that happens, Max... you rise too."
With that, Na stepped out of the car. Dud followed, silent but alert, already scanning the area.
Moments later, a van pulled up, same kind as last time.
"This time," Na said, turning back toward Max, "we want you to show us what you’re made of. Prove you’ve got what it takes to be more than just a fighter. Prove you have the talent to become a Lieutenant in the Rejected Corps."
Max stepped out, boots hitting the pavement with a quiet thud. He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, staring up at the restaurant, two stories of flashing signs and coiling dragons, glowing against the night like a challenge.
’You idiots,’ he thought as the car door shut behind him with a solid click.
’You have no idea who you’re talking to. You’re pitching dreams of power and titles to the leader of the damn White Tigers .’