JUDGE THEM I

April 1997. The small city, notorious for its high crime rate and full of illicit activities, has gained the moniker “Criminal City.” The streets are shrouded in darkness, exuding a somewhat eerie atmosphere, with only a handful at the center showcasing a semblance of modern development. Due to its unsavory reputation, the Criminal City is rarely visited by outsiders.

As darkness descends upon this unwelcome city...

An extremely beautiful, yet frightened girl desperately flees from two menacing street bullies relentlessly chasing her. Gasping for breath, she is on the brink of exhaustion.

“Help, please, somebody help...” she pleads as she continues to move forward, expending her last bit of strength. Suddenly, she bumps with a handsome stranger who has just turned the corner to her side. As they collide, she instinctively grabs his jacket to avoid falling, and he involuntarily catches her waist to steady her. She locks her eyes with him as they both slightly rotate, until the stranger deftly steadies her. His resolute eyes instills a sense of trust within her, and she catches hope in his reassuring embrace.

“Please, help me,” she begs with a timid voice. The stranger is absorbed by her ethereal beauty—so dainty and subtle she is. The fear etched on her face only enhances her fragility.

"Hands off me jacket!" the stranger demands, still maintaining a serious manner.

Feeling awkward, the girl swiftly withdraws her hands. Meanwhile, the bullies have stopped and are now watching them from a short distance away.

“Oi, we clocked her first!” one of them exclaims, stretching his arm out horizontally towards her, before yanking it back quickly as he is scared of the stranger.

Turning his attention back to the girl, the stranger asks,

“Who’re ya then?”

“I came from The Capital City. Thieves stole my wallet, so I lost my ID card and money,” she explains.

“Why’d ya rock up ’ere?”

“I was on my way to The Northern City to visit my aunt. The train had a stop here, and that’s when the thieves stole my wallet. By the time I tried to find the police, the train had already departed. Those two bastards have been chasing me since. Please, help me,” she pleads, reaching out and holding onto his arm with both hands. He exudes a strong, streetwise demeanor, yet her intuition tells her he is reliable.

The stranger confronts them directly.

“Ya nicked her wallet?”

“Nah, bruv! When we first saw her, she was practically starkers like that!” one of the bullies retorts with quick, heated words.

“What!?” the girl protests with a loud voice. “I am wearing a dress, you imbecile!”

One of the bullies lunges menacingly at the girl, but the other quickly grabs him and pulls him back, as both visibly intimidated by the presence of the handsome stranger.

“I’m gonna get ya, slag!” the first bully seethes through clenched teeth.

“Pipe down. We don’t need any aggro,” the second bully interjects, still keeping a firm grip on his fellow and attempting to steer him away from the stranger.

“She’s 'ere as a guest. We don’t take the piss with our guests. I’ll sort her out,” the stranger declares.

“But, patron...”

“Sod off!”

Both bullies rashly vanish from sight. Now the stranger takes the opportunity to get a better look at her. She is tall, yet shorter than him, with straight, shiny brown hair that cascades nearly to her waist like silk. Her delicate, milky skin exudes a fresh vitality, accentuating her perfect, finely sculpted face which emanates a powerful feminine energy. Her lips, a luscious brownish-pink, are plump, and her nose is slim with subtle contours. Her sparkling brown eyes, adorned with long and alluring eyelashes, possess a charming vulnerability. The slender frame of her narrow shoulders accentuates her medium-sized breasts.

Wearing a golden-caramel colored dress with straps, she reveals the bewitching curves of her body. While she may be slender, her hips boast elegant curvature that easily captivates the mind of any man, and her voluptuous posterior only adds to her allure. Clad in a cream-colored leather backpack and matching heels, she exudes the elegance of an educated, wealthy family.

Judging by her appearance, she seems to be around 20 years old. The stranger is struck by the realization that Mother Nature crafted her flawlessly, without a single hint of imperfection. As the fear dissipates from her face, a playful smile emerges, revealing her immaculate, straight, white teeth.

“Patron!? Are you a patron?” she asks loftily. “Impressive! Thank you for saving me, ‘patron.’ And goodbye!” She turns to leave.

However, the stranger halts her in her tracks with a question,

“Ya gotta spot to stay?”

“I’ll solve that, thanks,” she replies, carefree.

“Ya got no cash, ’ave ya?” the stranger counters.

“Don’t worry about me, my 'hero'! I can manage that.”

“Ya dunno this town,” the stranger tries to persuade her with a convincing voice.

“Is this some new way to approach a girl? Leave me alone!” With a sense of irritation, she briskly walks away.

Despite his own frustration, his innate sense of generosity does not allow him abandoning the girl in a potentially dangerous situation. Resolving to ensure her safety, he covertly follows her, convinced that she will soon call for help once more. After just a few minutes, she screams, spotting another intimidating man approaching her with a sinister grin in a dimly lit street. The stranger appears just in time and firmly declares,

“Leave 'er be!”

“Who the hell are ya?” the ugly man asks furiously.

“Can’t ya put two and two together?” the stranger responds, standing confidently and placing himself between the girl and the other man. The thug examines him, his eyes widening as he notices a pistol in the stranger’s pocket. Quickly, he tries to make himself scarce. The stranger firmly takes hold of the girl’s arm and leads her away toward a car.

“Hey, let go of me!” the girl protests.

“Ya ain’t got a clue what kind of patch ya’ve stumbled into. Some blokes wouldn’t even set foot ’ere,” the stranger remarks.

“What in the world is this hellish place!?” she exclaims, her voice sounding alluring even amidst her unease. As they arrive at a wide road, the stranger casually swings open the door of his dark blue Audi A6 parked along the roadside.

“Come on, hop in,” he insists.

“No way!” she stubbornly refuses.

“Oi, get in!” he commands, annoyed.

“I’ll just catch a taxi,” she persists.

“An' end up shaggin' a cabbie, no doubt.”

“What?! Would you rather I end up in your bed!?” she retorts, arching an eyebrow provocatively.

“I definitely don’t fancy that,” he states firmly.

“Hah, are you gay?” she teases, giggling. Grinding his teeth, he firmly guides her into the car without responding.

“Nice car,” she comments, attempting to engage in conversation. But he remains silent and serious.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks, her nerves getting the better of her.

“Somewhere safer for ya,” he cryptically replies.

“A hotel?” she asks, searching his face for the answer. His face curves into a disdainful sneer.

“I’m talking to you!” she flares up at his reaction.

“Keep yer gob shut,” he cuts her short, continuing to focus ahead on the road.

She falls into a sullen silence while the car continues its way through the dimly lit, unfamiliar streets of the city. Eventually, the car halts in front of an average two-story house, with a lush green field spreading out before it.

“Where are we?” she asks, her gaze darting around.

“Get out!” the stranger commands, abruptly swinging the car door open.

“I won’t go anywhere with you!” she objects stubbornly, resisting his authoritative stance. Ignoring her protests, the stranger firmly grasps her upper arm and drags her inside the house, swiftly securing the door behind them.

Avoiding her gaze, he removes his jacket, hangs it up, and begins rummaging through his belongings in search of something to drink.

“Open the door!” the girl exclaims defiantly.

“Out there’s more dodgy than in ’ere,” he replies carelessly, feeling calmer now.

“Why does it concern you so much?”

Finally, he turns to her, a hint of responsibility reveals itself in his words.

“This is my manor, an' ya’re just a visitor. In that flimsy bit of rag ya call a dress, ya won’t last ’til mornin'.”

“What? What kind of wild city is this? Are there no laws here? Are all the people here monsters like you?” the girl retorts disdainfully.

Her defiant behavior sparks irritation in him. He steps closer, locking his eyes with hers as he hisses,

“Buzz off, or I’ll show ya whatta proper monster looks like.”

“Open the door, then!” she challenges.

“Go in, not out!” he commands sternly, leaving no room for argument.

Standing near the front door, she gazes into the spacious hall. It spans approximately 10 square meters, with expansive windows on the opposite wall and a grand white dining table surrounded by twelve chairs on the right. Adjacent to the table, a mini bar sits in the right corner, while the entrance to the kitchen is located on the left side of the hall. Wide stairs beckon towards the upper floor. The walls are adorned with beautiful artwork, enhancing the elegance of the space. In the center of the room, a small brown couch, two armchairs, and a delicate glass coffee table create a cozy seating area.

As the stranger returns from the kitchen, a bottle in hand, he leisurely sprawls on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He tilts his head back, inhaling deeply. Observing him closely, she notes the features of a man around 30 years old: tall, with a strong, well-built frame emphasized by wide shoulders and taut muscles.

His dark brown hair falls straight, partially veiling his forehead, framing a masculine, broad face adorned with a pair of brown eyes, a medium nose, and full, luscious lips.

The warmth of his complexion adds to his overall appeal. His bold confidence exudes a captivating charm that can stir desire in women. Recognizing the weight of his responsibilities, she perceives him as a serious individual, capable of providing a sense of security with his broad shoulders.

She steps forward, her voice edged with reproach,

“What terrible manners! Hey, that’s a table!”

He replies with a hint of menace in his voice,

“Ya still ’ere? Scarper, or I’ll have ya laid out on this table. Got it? Or are ya after that?” Slowly, he turns to face her with detached eyes.

Annoyed, she storms away from him, leaving him to brood in silence. He gazes into the distance, lost in pensive contemplation, and takes a deliberate sip from the bottle.

As eventide settles down gorgeously, the street lights in various districts of the Northern City cast their mellow glow like the keys of a piano, producing a symphony of light and shadow. The city is called Northern because it is the only one situated in the far north of the country.

In the heart of the city stands a remarkable and contemporary building, where Mathilda Mathews, a 50-year-old woman, presides over the governance and internal affairs of the Northern City. Asserting their autonomy, the city refuses to abide by the laws imposed by the country, notably those dictated by the capital. In their pursuit of recognition as the nation’s capital, the authorities of the Northern City have established their own set of regulations and consider themselves independent from the central government. This self-declared independence includes the existence of a separate military force, which has the potential to ignite internal conflicts and endanger the lives of local residents.

A few days ago…

Well-groomed and always fit, Mathilda sat in the meeting room of her office in that remarkable building, awaiting her associates. A grotty old man with a bloated sense of self-worth, putting on airs as if he were a sage among fools, made his way into the spacious meeting room with a deliberate and unhurried gait, reminiscent of the leisurely movements of a sloth. Adrian, a seasoned professional in his forties serving as Mathilda’s assistant, welcomed the old man into the meeting room.

“Our current objective is not his elimination, but to extract crucial information regarding his future plans,” Mathilda explained. “We require his cooperation to establish order and address issues across the country. Once the groundwork is set, disposing of him will be effortless, and the nation will be under our control.”

“Indeed,” responded the old man with a raspy voice. “Hence, prepare a specialist to approach him.”

“Unfortunately, past attempts have been thwarted by his robust defenses,” Mathilda sighed.

A knowing grin spread across the old man’s face.

“May I inquire about your suggestion?” Mathilda’s interest piqued.

“He is a young man, isn’t he?”

“So, you propose...?” Mathilda furrowed her brow, scrutinizing his words. The old man nodded in approval.

“I should discuss this with Philip,” Mathilda concluded decisively.

Today…

A slender young brunette man, around twenty-eight, enters the grand hall with a peculiar, limping gait. He has a dark complexion and a prominent nose, and his stooped posture and downturned lips give him a menacing appearance, suggesting aggression or possible substance use.

Inside the hall, Mathilda sits regally in an armchair, flanked by six women. Though these women are between the ages of 25 and 30 and possess attractive full figures, they appear noticeably worn-out. Unconcerned with the women around him, he asks Mathilda impatiently,

“Mother, time’s ticking. Where are the girls?”

Mathilda, taken aback, widens her eyes in surprise and responds:

“What do you mean? They are right behind you!”

With eyes wide as saucers, he turns to his mother, ignoring the women, and incredulously points at the group,

“These? Seriously?”

“Yes, those are the ones!”

His eyes betray a mix of shock and alarm, as if confronted by some alliens, before reluctantly glancing at the women and then back to Mathilda.

“Uugh!” he sighs disappointedly, raising his arms in exasperation before letting them drop. “Mother, the girls don’t have to be your age! We need younger girls!” With deliberate emphasis, raising his eyebrows, he repeats with a low voice, “Virgins!”

Mathilda’s face twists in disgust.

“What era are you living in?” she exclaimes. “Men love mellow, ripe women, look at them, they are so attractive!”

Mathilda nears one of the young woman and gently caresses her cheek. The young man, however, gazes at his mother with a bewildered and forlorn expression, his mouth slightly agape, lips twisting downward in a mixture of desolation and frustration.

“Mom, are you out of your mind?” His exasperated voice finally breaks through. “Russell won’t even give them a glance!”

“What nonsense are you spouting?” Mathilda retorts. “Russell hasn’t had a proper woman until today. He’ll be salivating at the sight of them.”

“Mother, men like Russell love women who are original, unique, and self-assured! Not just someone who’s a sack of fatty meat!”

“Don’t exaggerate!” Mathilda snaps, indignant. “He should be thanking me for what I’ve found!”

“Are you sending him a gift or a spy?” Philip’s voice drips with sarcasm.“Even if Russell succumbs to their charms, he won’t let slip a single piece of valuable information. We need someone who can truly drive him to distraction!”

Mathilda throws her hands up in exasperation, her voice rising. “And where are we supposed to find such a seductive temptress?!”

Philip exhales sharply, dropping his shoulders.“Ugh... Why can’t you manage even the simplest, most minor task without my intervention, Mother?”

“Oh, Philip, my darling boy,” Mathilda coos, her tone shifting from frustration to admiration. “You truly are the cleverest of us all!”

“Don’t try to butter me up, Mother.”

With a final disgusted look, he turns to leave. His uneven, limping gait punctuates each angry step as he leaves his mother to stew in her failed schemes.