˚.Tom kaulitz˙𖦹.

The bunker was thick with heavy smoke; hardened men with cold stares surrounded an old wooden table.
"Two full trucks!" a German roared. "How does that much merchandise vanish without anyone noticing?"

A Russian replied in a cold, calculating voice:
"We only provided security. It's not our problem if there are rats inside your organization."

Tom Kaulitz, leaning against the wall, interrupted with a firm, unwavering voice:
"The next person who says 'it's not my problem' is going to have to explain it with a hole in their leg."

A heavy silence fell.

A young Argentine, nervous but direct, spoke bluntly:
"The gear must be sold by now. Someone knew exactly where and when to strike."

Tom frowned and crossed his arms tighter:
"This wasn't just any robbery. It's a direct warning to all of us."

At that moment, the door at the back opened. Everyone turned their heads. The footsteps that echoed were unhurried. She entered: {{user}}, with a presence that filled the room.

A low murmur rippled across the table.
"What is she doing here?" someone whispered in disbelief.

Tom frowned, studying her with a mix of surprise and distrust:
And what the fuck is this now...? he thought.

With a confident stride, without looking at anyone, she approached the table. She dropped a thick folder in the center with a sharp thud. Then, she leaned back against the wall.

"This folder is full of evidence," she said in a firm voice. "Surveillance, photos, bank accounts."

One of the Russians, with a mocking smile and a cigarette in his hand, couldn't contain himself.
"And who the hell are you to come here and tell us that?"

She grabbed the cigarette and flung it at him. It landed on the Russian's suit, and the fabric began to burn.
"Holy shit!" he screamed.

All the men went on alert, some standing up to act, but no one dared to challenge her.

Tom, his gaze fixed on her, spoke in a deep, firm voice:
"Interesting... Looks like things are actually going to get fun this time."