Scene 1: The Triangle Tactic

  The warehouse was a kill box. Niko had the high ground, the range, and the patience. We had... panic.

  I scanned the architecture, visualizing the vectors. Niko controlled the Y-axis—the vertical asset. To bankrupt his position, I had to leverage the horizontal plane against him using a pincer movement. Geometry, like the market, is all about exploiting the angles where the competition is blind.

  "EXECUTE!" I roared into my phone.

  Phase 1: Distraction. The Cadillac’s engine roared to life. Gara slammed the pedal to the metal. The heavy sedan screeched out from behind the crates, drifting sideways across the open concrete floor like a drunk rhino. "Don't shoot the tires!" Gara screamed, his voice cracking. "These are run-flats! They are expensive!"

  CRACK! CRACK! Two shots rang out. Niko was good. He tracked the moving car perfectly. One bullet sparked off the rear bumper, the other punched a hole through the trunk. "MY PAINT!" Gara wailed, swerving wildly to throw off the aim.

  Phase 2: Suppression. "NOW, DANIEL!" I shouted.

  Daniel, trembling behind the engine block, squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't aim. He just lifted the heavy AA-12 Shotgun over the cover and pulled the trigger.

  BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

  The sound was apocalyptic. The automatic shotgun chewed through the 12-gauge drum magazine in seconds. Slugs and buckshot tore into the upper gantries, shredding metal, shattering glass, and turning Niko’s sniper nest into a hail of shrapnel.

  I watched the brass casings fly through the air, hitting the concrete with a melodic tink-tink-tink. In my head, a cash register was ringing. Two dollars... four dollars... ten dollars... fifty dollars... "Stop!" I winced, watching my profit margin evaporate in smoke. "Cease fire, you idiot! You’re bankrupting us!"

  Daniel let go of the trigger, panting. "Did I get him? Did I kill the bad man?"

  Phase 3: The Trebuchet. High above, Niko was suppressed. He was huddled behind a steel beam, cursing as shotgun slugs chewed up the catwalk around him. He didn't see Benny.

  Benny stepped out from cover. In his hand was a solid iron crowbar, heavy and rusted. He didn't throw it like a baseball. He spun once, like a discus thrower, using the torque of his massive hips and core.

  "Fly."

  The crowbar left his hand with a terrifying WHOOSH. It crossed the 50 meters in a heartbeat.

  Structural Audit complete, I noted silently. The hydraulic piston is the single point of failure. Break that, and his entire asset collapses.

  CLANG!

  The sound was like a church bell being hit by a train. The steel piston buckled. The entire catwalk lurched violently to the right. Niko lost his footing. His rifle slid away. He grabbed a cable just in time to stop himself from falling 10 meters to the concrete.

  "Damn it!" Niko yelled, swinging in the air. "Who throws a crowbar?! That’s not aerodynamic!"

  He looked down. He saw Benny waiting. He saw me waiting. He realized his position was compromised. "Fine," Niko unclipped his harness. "Close quarters it is."

  He slid down the cable, landing silently on the warehouse floor. He drew a combat knife in one hand and a tactical baton in the other.

  Scene 2: Wolf vs. Bear

  Niko stood 1m73. He was lean, wiry, and moved with the twitchy energy of a viper. Benny stood 1m87. He was a slab of granite in a tight suit. He stood in a relaxed Kyokushin Karate stance—feet grounded, hands open but ready.

  "You’re big," Niko sneered, circling Benny, his knife weaving patterns in the air. "But big implies slow. I’m going to cut your hamstrings."

  Niko lunged. It was a blur. A classic Krav Maga feint—fake high, strike low. He slashed at Benny’s thigh. Benny didn't retreat. He checked the kick with his shin. THUD. It sounded like Niko had kicked a lamppost. Niko grimaced, hopping back. "What are your bones made of? Lead?"

  Benny didn't answer. He shuffled forward—the heavy, rhythmic step of a tank. He threw a roundhouse kick. It wasn't fast, but it had the momentum of a falling tree. Niko ducked under it, barely. The wind from the kick ruffled his hair.

  "Too slow!" Niko shouted. He vaulted onto a crate and jumped, landing on Benny’s back. He wrapped his arm around Benny’s thick neck. Rear Naked Choke. "Sleep time, big guy!" Niko hissed, locking his grip.

  Niko squeezed. He was Sayeret Matkal. He knew exactly how to cut off blood flow to the carotid artery. He squeezed until his own veins popped on his forehead. Sweat poured down Niko’s face. He gritted his teeth, using every ounce of his leverage.

  Niko winced, his hand instinctively brushing his swollen jaw for a split second. A minor physical defect, I noted. An unpolished gear in a high-speed machine.

  Benny didn't flinch. He didn't gasp. He just stood there. His neck muscles flared, hard as steel cables. The chokehold was perfect, but the neck was simply... too thick. Too strong.

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  Benny turned his head slightly, ignoring the pressure that would have knocked out a normal man. "Tight," Benny commented, his voice calm.

  "Die, damn you!" Niko screamed, pulling harder.

  Benny reached back. He didn't claw at Niko’s arm. He grabbed Niko’s tactical vest with one hand, like scruffing a kitten. He leaned forward and threw. Ippon Seoi Nage (Shoulder Throw).

  Niko flew over Benny’s shoulder. SLAM.

  He hit the concrete wall hard. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He slid down to the floor, coughing, his vision blurring. His hands shook from the shock of the impact. He looked up. Benny was cracking his neck. CRACK-CRACK. Benny wasn't panting. He wasn't sweating. He looked like he had just finished a light stretch.

  Niko tried to stand, but his legs wobbled. "Okay..." Niko wheezed, wiping blood from his lip. "You’re... durable. I’ll give you that."

  Benny looked at the small assassin. He nodded. "Strong... Mouse."

  Scene 3: The Lowball Negotiation

  "ENOUGH!"

  My voice cut through the dust. I stepped out from behind the pillar, adjusting my glasses. I walked past the debris, holding my briefcase. Benny paused, his fist raised like a hammer. He looked at me, then lowered his hand.

  I walked up to Niko, who was leaning against the wall, trying to regain his breath. He looked at me with murder in his eyes, but his body was too battered to act on it.

  "You fight well, Niko," I said, looking down at him. "Tommy got a bargain at what... $20,000? Maybe less? He’s lowballing you, Niko."

  "I’m not done," Niko spat, though he clutched his ribs. "I just need a minute. Then I’m going to carve your eyes out."

  "Tommy hired you on a freelance contract," I continued, ignoring his threat. "Project-based. High risk. Zero benefits. And knowing Tommy, he probably pays late."

  I opened my briefcase. I didn't take out money. I took out a file—a background check I had run while Gara was buying guns.

  "I know your history, Niko," I read from the paper. "Fired from the Veretti Crew for 'Insubordination'. Fired from the triad for 'Talking too much during a stealth mission'. You have a high turnover rate. You are a Distressed Asset."

  Niko froze. The insult hit harder than Benny’s throw. "I have personality! I bring morale!"

  "You bring headaches," I corrected. "And let’s look at your long-term projection. Freelancing is a young man’s game with a terrible ROI (Return on Investment). No pension. No safety net. One bad mission, one slipped disc, or one slow reaction, and you’re liquidated. You’re trading your life for pocket change with zero equity in your own future. Is that the portfolio you want to retire with?"

  I value contracts, Niko. But a contract with a man who doesn't provide medical insurance or a retirement plan is not a legal document—it’s an exploitative liability. Tommy breached the fundamental laws of human capital long before I stepped into this warehouse.

  Niko blinked, his mouth slightly open. The harsh reality of dying poor and alone hit him. "And," I pointed to his jaw. "You have a toothache."

  Niko’s hand instinctively went to his jaw. "It’s... sensitive. So what?"

  "Dental work in this city is expensive," I smiled. "A root canal and a crown? That’s $3,000. Cash. Tommy won't pay for that."

  I leaned in closer. "I’m offering you a position. Director of Long-Range Security at Aegis Urban Solutions."

  "Salary?" Niko asked, narrowing his eyes.

  "$8,000 a month," I said.

  Niko laughed. A harsh, barking laugh. "Eight grand? Are you insane? I make that in a week! Get lost, four-eyes."

  "Plus 5% commission on High-Value Targets," I added. "And... full corporate benefits. Including a Platinum Dental Plan."

  Niko stopped laughing. "Dental?"

  "Zirconia crowns," I lied effortlessly (or maybe I would find a corrupt dentist). "Full coverage. Immediate treatment. No waiting period. You can have that tooth fixed tomorrow."

  Niko looked at me. Then he looked at Benny, who was standing there like a statue. He looked at the pain in his jaw that had been tormenting him for weeks. He did the math. The freelance market was dry. His reputation was shaky. And his tooth really hurt.

  He dropped his knife. "Zirconia?" Niko asked. "Not that cheap porcelain crap?"

  "Top of the line," I promised.

  Niko sighed. He looked defeated, not by violence, but by capitalism. "Fine. I’m in." He pointed at me. "But I don't wear ties. And I want a corner office."

  "We live in a warehouse, Niko," I said, extending my hand. "Every corner is an office."

  Scene 4: Boardroom Drama

  As the adrenaline faded, the rest of the board members emerged to voice their dissent.

  Daniel crawled out from behind the engine block. He was covered in dust. He looked at Niko with pure hatred. "You hired him?!" Daniel shrieked, pointing the shotgun at Niko. "He shot at me! He shot the crate right next to my head! He nearly ruined my hearing! Look at him! He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt under his tactical vest! He has no fashion sense!"

  Gara ran over to his Cadillac. He traced the bullet hole in the trunk with a trembling finger. "Boss!" Gara whined, tears in his eyes. "Look at this! Structural damage! Resale value decreased by 15%! And you’re paying him $8,000? That’s my budget! That’s our budget! He’s a liability!"

  Niko looked at them and grinned, revealing the bad tooth. "Nice to meet you too, ladies. I promise to shoot the enemies next time. Unless you annoy me."

  Benny walked over. The floor shook with his steps. He stopped in front of Niko. Niko flinched, ready for another fight. But Benny just extended a massive hand. "Fast," Benny rumbled. "Good."

  Niko hesitated, then high-fived the giant. SMACK. "Thanks, big guy. You’re not bad yourself. For a mutant."

  I clapped my hands. "Orientation is over. Daniel, get the first aid kit. Gara, assess the ammo supply. Niko, find a vantage point."

  I walked to the center of the warehouse, looking at my ragtag army. A cowardly giant. A greedy mechanic. A silent monster. And a chatty assassin with a toothache. It was a mess. But it was my mess.

  My gaze settled on Niko. I updated his file in my mind immediately:

  Analysis: Physical Stats: A-Tier. Extreme agility. Fragile frame. Twitchy neural reflexes. Mental Stats: B-Tier. High-speed processor. Narcissistic. Talkative (Liability). Potential: Medium-High. He’s a veteran with zero retirement plan. He doesn’t need a cause; he needs stability and a dentist. He is the perfect long-range surgical tool.

  I closed the mental folder. The portfolio was complete.

  "Tomorrow," I adjusted my glasses, the lens reflecting the grim determination in my eyes.

  "The market doesn't wait for the weak. Tomorrow, we don't just attack Tommy. We perform a Hostile Takeover of his entire existence.

  End of Chapter 10

  The Board is expanding: We now have a Sniper.

  Question for the Shareholders: Who do you think Niko is going to annoy first—Daniel or Gara? And more importantly, should Solomon actually pay for that tooth or just find a cheaper dentist?

  Follow. We are officially entering the growth phase.

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  Copyright ? 2026 by Gats VII. All rights reserved. This story is officially published only on Royal Road, Scribble Hub, and Patreon. If you are reading this elsewhere, it has been stolen.