Chapter 187: Actions do have Consequences.

The small, dimly lit room was cloaked in darkness. A single lamp on the worn wooden table cast eerie flickering light on the man who sat there, his face hidden behind trembling hands. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead despite the chilly room. This man, who had once been eager to embrace an offer of a different life, now grappled with the weight of his own conscience. James had been one of the attendees at Ethan's recruitment meeting, seeking a way out of the constant struggle that had plagued his life. When he had first heard about the "job opportunity," it had sounded like the answer to his prayers. But as Ethan unfolded the reality of the job – a criminal organization operating outside the law – James's initial enthusiasm had withered.

As he sat in the shadows, James replayed that meeting in his mind. He had listened to Ethan's unsettling description of the organization's activities from the questions asked by the other people, and the growing sense of unease had made him squirm in his seat. He had hoped to find a way out of the perpetual cycle of bills and hardship, but the path Ethan offered wasn't something that he was interested in. While some had walked out, James had stayed, unsure of what he should do. Over the following days, the weight of his decision had grown heavier. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had unwittingly crossed a moral line. The more he thought about the criminal activities Ethan had described – extortion, organized theft, and worse – the more he realized he couldn't be a part of it. He couldn't hurt anybody. He's never been in a fight in his entire life! How could he become a criminal? No matter how good the money was, was it really worth it? A life of crime? Something he could never wash away?

But fear gripped him. Fear of the consequences of reporting this criminal organization to the police. Fear that he might become a target, a snitch, or worse. The paranoia ate away at him, but the guilt was even more insufferable. One sleepless night, unable to bear the burden any longer, James decided he had to act. He reached for his phone and began dialing the local police's non-emergency line. His heart pounded like a drum as he recounted the details of the recruitment meeting, providing Ethan's name and everything he knew about the organization. As he ended the call, he felt a mix of relief and dread. He had taken the first step, but he knew there was no turning back now. The authorities would investigate, and Ethan's criminal empire would be closely watched for.

The following days were a whirlwind of anxiety. James couldn't help but look over his shoulder, wondering if he was being watched. He was consumed by fear and panic. But deep down, he knew he had done the right thing. Reporting Ethan was the only way he could cleanse his conscience and, just maybe, protect others from the dark path he had nearly taken. With his heart pounding and his palms clammy, James made his way to the local police station after they asked if he was willing to come in as an anonymous source. The weight of his decision hung heavy over him, but he knew he couldn't live with the guilt any longer. He needed to expose Ethan's criminal organization for the safety of his own conscience and the community at large. Krey was almost clean, thanks to the efforts of those superheroes. Wouldn't it be messed up if it was ruined because of that gang? Krey needs to become better, not worse.

The police station loomed before him, a formidable structure that represented authority and justice. He took a deep breath, pushed open the glass doors, and entered the reception area. The cold air of the station sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but glance nervously around, half-expecting someone to recognize him. Approaching the front desk, he cleared his throat and addressed the officer on duty, a stern-looking woman with a badge that read "Officer Hernandez."

"Can I help you, sir?" Officer Hernandez asked, her tone professional yet inquisitive.

James felt a lump in his throat but managed to reply, "I was asked to come in as an anonymous source to give some more information." The officer gestured toward a nearby interview room. "Please, have a seat; a detective will be with you shortly."

He nodded his thanks and found a seat in the small, sterile room. The minutes ticked by, and James's anxiety continued to grow. He questioned whether he was doing the right thing, putting himself in a position where he could face retribution for snitching on a criminal organization. But Ethan said that nothing would happen to them if they left. It was his paranoia talking, making him afraid of invisible ghosts that weren't there. Soon, a middle-aged investigator with a stern expression entered the room, introducing himself as Detective Rodriguez. He sat across from James and placed a notepad and pen on the table.

"Please, go ahead and tell me what you'd like to report," Detective Rodriguez said, his voice calm and reassuring.

James took a deep breath and began to recount everything he knew about the recruitment meeting for Ethan's criminal organization. He shared the website where he had found the job ad, the email that had provided the office's address, and detailed Ethan's physical description. He described the office building layout and the large number of attendees who had gathered for the meeting.

As he spoke, Detective Rodriguez meticulously recorded his account, asking clarifying questions and showing a keen interest in the case. James also divulged much of what he had heard at the meeting, including the various criminal activities mentioned: extortion, organized theft, money laundering, kidnapping, and organized violence. The weight of his words hung in the air as he finished recounting his experience. Detective Rodriguez leaned back in his chair, absorbing the information. "Thank you for sharing this with us, Mr. Anonymous. Your cooperation is vital to our efforts to address criminal activities in the community."

James nodded, his face was the definition of relief. He knew that his life had taken a precarious turn, but he couldn't let the guilt of potentially enabling criminal behavior continue to eat at him. Detective Rodriguez assured James that they would conduct a thorough investigation into the matter and requested any additional information he might have. As the interview came to an end, James left the police station with a sense of both apprehension and the hope that he had done the right thing. He was on a path that could lead to justice and the dismantling of another criminal organization that was hoping to sink its terrible claws into Krey. His shoulders were no longer sunk and his spine was upright.

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"Hmm. This is a lot more than I was expecting from you…" Poison flipped through the list of applicants with a small smile on her face.

Ethan did a background check on every applicant after receiving their personal information. Basically, he searched their names online and checked their social media accounts. It would help avoid situations in the future where if they decide the life of crime isn't for them and decide to tattle to enemy gangs or the police. By threatening them with knowledge of their personal lives, they will be less likely to do anything that would be against the group's interests.

"Ethan. I am very pleased by this sudden turn of usefulness from you." Poison turned to him, her eyelashes fluttering at him. "As a reward, I'll allow you to massage my feet. Keep proving yourself useful to me, and I'll reward you accordingly." Poison tossed her flip-flops off, revealing her light-green feet. Ethan's mother wasn't in the house, allowing her to walk around in her natural form.

Ethan sat on the floor before Poison, his palms beginning to sweat. She extended her legs, fully exposing her toes. He couldn't help but realize that he was starting to admire the unusual color of her skin. Taking one of her feet gently in his hands, he started with a slow, deliberate stroke along the arch, his fingers applying just the right amount of pressure. Poison let out a soft, pleased hum as she leaned back, her eyes half-lidded, savoring the sensation. Ethan's fingers moved with altering precision, kneading the tension away from the balls of her feet, then traveling along the slender curves of her instep. He noticed the delicate shape of her toenails, painted a shade that matched the unique hue of her skin.

He applied a bit more pressure, working his way to her heels, where he found knots of stress she ordered him to release. Ethan focused on his task, his hands moving in rhythmic, circular motions. The scent of her skin mixed with a hint of her perfume, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that made his heart race. As he continued, Ethan couldn't help but steal glances at Poison's expression. Her eyes remained half-closed, a sign that she was enjoying his inexperienced foot massage. She wasn't giving him a single thought unless to command him to focus on a certain spot here or there or tell him to massage harder or softer while massaging.

Time seemed to slow as Ethan lost himself in the act of massaging her feet. Before today, he thought feet were disgusting, and people who had feet fetishes were gross, but now… Well… Let's say don't judge a book by its cover until you've read it. The room was filled with the subtle sounds of his touch – the soft friction of his palms against her skin, her occasional sighs of pleasure, and the sound of the news playing in the background. Although Ethan was the one giving rather than receiving, he was feeling pretty pleased about this experience… When he finally finished, Poison withdrew her feet, a satisfied smile dancing on her lips. She stretched languidly, looking down at Ethan with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Ethan's hands hung in the air for a moment, his yearning and desire still lingering. He wanted to continue. He wasn't finished touching her yet. But Poison kicked him across the room when he tried to go in for another round. He groaned from the pain of his aching jaw. "Don't forget your place, slave." Poison reminded him.