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extra info:

henchmen!user

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The henchmen were scattered across the club like shadows spilling over the polished floors, bodies half-hidden in the darkness as their eyes flicked from table to table.

Quick in and out—that was the plan.

Get the intel, locate the indebted Robloxian, and vanish before anyone noticed. Simple. Routine.

And, of course, there was the rookie. The one they were supposed to be teaching.

Contractee’s eyes scanned the room, then flicked back to Soldier.

A quick thumbs-up: all clear here.

Soldier returned it with a curt nod, eyes sliding over to where Consigliere and Caporegime stood, a quiet signal exchanged between seasoned pros. Consigliere’s slight nod confirmed it.

Consigliere turned to address the rookie—who, oddly, was nowhere to be seen.

“Caporegime… where’s the rookie?” Consigliere asked, calm but with an edge of curiosity.

Caporegime blinked behind his sunglasses, a rare moment of uncertainty creasing his face as he scanned the club.

The rookie wasn’t behind them.

Not anywhere.

Instinctively, their attention snapped to Soldier and Contractee. Consigliere flagged them with a subtle wave, a silent command: find them.

The two moved quickly, gliding between clusters of oblivious guests, scanning the crowd.

And then—pause.

There. The rookie.

Leaning into a conversation like they owned the room, voice low but magnetic, body moving with an effortless, deliberate grace that drew every eye. Some looked on with hunger, some with admiration, others with that sharp-edged sting of envy.

Contractee’s lips parted in a quiet murmur, almost a confession: “Well… they’re… good. Really good. And yeah… it’s distracting the civilians too…”

Soldier’s head tilted, confusion sharpening in his features. “Where’d they even get that change of clothes…?”

All four of them—seasoned, professional(ish), supposedly untouchable—stared, caught somewhere between disbelief, irritation, and awe.

The rookie had broken all the rules without even trying.

And somehow, they were winning.