The suited man’s hand emerged with a vial. The liquid inside the vial swirled, and the gray dust-like particles inside caught the moonlight.

Threat level: minimal on a vial. Blah blah blah. Well, what about vanilla analysis?

[Modified Dust Vial]

[Description: Lethal combat enhancer.]

[Effects: Efficiency base+15 x 105%, Max Load base+15 x 105%, restores essence by 50% of max.]

[Duration: 600 seconds.]

Hold on a minute. This looked like the same substance he got from the storage box when he first found it, although this was weaker. It was the crutch he used to finally beat the knight.

Suddenly, tendrils of his passive skill caught onto movement on the rooftop. Two figures crouched in shadows near the skylight, wearing metallic like paddings on their arms, legs, and torso. Their outlines were blurry, but they were definitely there. Signature was blurry as well, barely detectable if he hadn’t felt the metal bending as they stepped onto the roof. Couldn’t even get a reading on their ether levels, not knowing if they’re awakened or attuned.

One carried a bastard sword strapped to their back. But the other held a mace, and this one wore a helmet, metal or something else. Both weapons made no sense. Why bring a sword to a gunfight?

The warehouse door creaked open. A group of five men shuffled in, dressed in cheap outfits that screamed ‘trying too hard to look like criminals.’

An absolute unit of a man led the first group. His tank top stretched across his chest like it might rip at any second. His biceps looked like they’d been inflated with a bike pump. Every step he took made his muscles bounce up and down in what Gale assumed was supposed to be intimidating.

Behind Tank Top came another group. This one was led by someone who had clearly raided a costume shop. The red leather jacket and red pants he wore could’ve been spotted a kilometre away in a sea of crowd. Gold chains hung from his neck, screaming ‘look at me, I’m a gangster.’ He was at least a head shorter than Tank Top with average physique.

They stopped at a single fluorescent light bulb at the centre of the warehouse, shining harshly against the concrete. A folding table stood beside that light.

“You got the stuff?” Red Jacket asked, voice unnaturally low, as if he were trying to act intimidating.

Tank Top crossed his arms. “You got the cash?”

One of Red Jacket’s men stepped forward with a briefcase. The latches clicked open, revealing stacks of 100 dollar Canadian bills under the light.

Tank Top nodded to someone behind him. Two of his guys brought forward black cases with Glory Industries logos stamped on the sides. They put them down on the folding table and opened them, revealing multiple guns inside.

“Modified M4s and AKs, a few red and gray marbles, and of course, Glory’s own artificed flaming homing ammunition,” Tank Top said. “Fresh from Glory’s own stock. M4s got some custom chambers, targeting systems, the works.”

Red Jacket ran his fingers over one of the rifles. “And the dust?”

Tank Top pulled out a metal case. Inside, vials of purple tinged liquid that contained tiny particles of gray grains. He grinned and said, “Stronger than the street stuff. Kicks like a mule, but the high… worth every penny.”

“How many doses before crystallization?” Red Jacket asked.

“Three, maybe four if you’re lucky. But who cares? By then they’ll be hooked enough to keep buying.”

The two men in suits at the catwalk turned their heads towards each other.

‘Wait for the whale.’

‘You got the hook?’

‘Hook is ready.’

Dad’s ASL lessons came in handy. Handy for silent hunting. However, there was no way a whale could walk on land. Unless… this was Aur after all. Anything anywhere whenever could happen.

Red Jacket hefted one of the rifles and aimed down its sight. “These better work as advertised. Last batch jammed up during a job.”

“Relax. It’s straight from the source this time,” Tank Top said. “Pulled these right from Glory’s private stock. Same stuff his own people use.”

The two persons on the roof shifted slightly. The one with the mace inserted ether into the weapon but stopped as soon as the other person waved. It was enough for Gale to get a feel for the signature. It was a different kind of signature, more like what Annett had used in the forest.

Red Jacket’s crew started moving the cases of weapons out the door while Tank Top counted the stacks of cash inside the case that Red Jacket gave him. The whole scene played out like a bad crime show, complete with tough guy posturing and references to whoever ‘the boss’ was.

“Word is the UK’s sniffing around,” Red Jacket snapped his finger at his men. “Getting real interested in Glory’s operation.”

Tank Top snorted. “UK’s got their hands full with the Jiuling right now. Something about territory disputes in Vancouver.”

“Still…” Red Jacket tossed over the M4 to one of his men nearby the door. “Maybe we should slow down the shipments. Let things cool off.”

“Boss wants the product moved,” Tank Top said. “Says Glory’s getting paranoid. Started locking down access to the good stuff.”

“Speaking of paranoid,” Red Jacket said. “You hear about the warehouse hit couple of weeks ago? Professional fixer. Left sixteen bodies.”

Tank Top’s face contorted. “Yeah, I heard. Glory’s own gear used against his people.”

“Makes you wonder who’s really pulling the strings,” Red Jacket said. “First the UK shows up, then the Jiuling start making noise, now this?”

Gale noticed the two persons above tense up. The mace lit up with slight energy when they heard the word “UK.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. He should leave. A fight was definitely going to break out of here, but it was like watching a train wreck happen.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Tank Top waved his hands dismissively. “Not our problem. We move the product, we get money. Simple as that.”

“Nothing’s simple anymore,” Red Jacket said. “Glory’s empire’s got cracks showing. Smart money says something big’s coming.”

“Yeah? Well, boss above says shut up and do the job.” Tank Top chuckled.

Red Jacket pulled out a phone. “What’s our schedule looking like? The boys need to know when and where the next shipment is.”

“Right here works fine. Next Friday, same time.” Tank Top said. “Place is perfect. Clean. Off the books.”

“Here?” Red Jacket’s golden chains rattled. “You’re getting sloppy, man. Using the same spot twice?”

“Why change what works?” Tank Top said. “Been running gear through here three months now. No problems.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?!”Red Jacket stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re getting comfortable. Comfortable gets us dead.”

Tank Top laughed so loud that the windows seemed to shake. “Dead? Brother, you worry too much. Those UK boys? They’re hitting empty warehouses on the east side. Some tip got them chasing their own tails.”

“And the Jiuling?” Red Jacket said.

“Please.” Tank Top waved his hand. “Witches got them tied up in Vancouver. They’re too busy playing territory games to notice what’s happening here.”

Red Jacket looked at the dark corners of the warehouse. “Glory’s got eyes everywhere. If he finds out we’re moving his tech without permission…”

“Glory doesn’t know shit about this place,” Tank Top said. “Man’s too busy playing corporate kingpin to notice what his own people are doing. Trust me, we’re golden.”

Red Jacket’s eyes narrowed. “You sound awfully sure about that.”

“I am sure,” Tank Top said. “Look around. Perfect setup. Loading dock’s hidden from the street. No cameras except ours. Security patrols avoid this whole block thanks to a few well-placed bribes. We’re invisible.”

One of Red Jacket’s crew whispered something in his ear. He nodded, gold chains catching the fluorescent light as it jiggled.

“What about the other warehouses?” Red Jacket asked. “Glory’s been auditing all his warehouses in Oshawa…”

Tank Top snorted. “Yeah, the obvious ones. Places where product’s moving too fast, drawing attention. We’re smarter than that. Keep it slow, steady. Under the radar.”

“And the UK raids?” Red Jacket said. “They’re getting closer.”

“Man, you’re not listening,” Tank Top said. “Those raids? We fed them bad intel. Send them to empty buildings while we work. By the time they figure it out, product’s long gone.”

A drop of sweat fell from Gale’s chin, hitting the concrete below with a soft pat.

Red Jacket’s head snapped to where the drop fell. His hand went inside his jacket.

“The fuck was that?” he hissed.

“Probably just condensation from the pipes,” Tank Top put his hands on one of the AKs on the folding table.

“Condensation my ass,” Red Jacket snarled. “You said this place was secure.”

“It is secure!” Tank Top shouted.

“Then explain that.” Red Jacket pointed to where the drop had landed. “Because that looked an awful lot like someone’s up there watching us.”

Tank Top clenched his jaw. “Fine. We’ll move next time. Happy?”

“No, I’m not fucking happy,” Red Jacket snapped. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You get lazy, comfortable. Stop taking precautions. And now someone’s probably got eyes on our whole operation.”

“Next week,” Tank Top said. “Different location. I’ll text you the details.”

“Make it somewhere clean,” Red Jacket said as he backed toward the door. “And sweep this place. Top to bottom. If someone’s watching us…”

“I’ll handle it,” Tank Top said. “Just be ready to move the product when I call.”

Red Jacket’s crew started gathering their cases by the door. Their boss, on the other hand, kept glancing up and down at the catwalks and the aisles.

Tank Top’s men maintained their positions, hands never far from their weapons.

“And Tank?” Red Jacket paused at the door. “If this comes back to bite us, it’s on your head. Glory won’t care who fucked up. We’ll all die.”

Four sharp claps pierced and echoed through the warehouse. Tank Top and Red Jacket looked to the source. The suits at the catwalk and Gale also turned their attention towards it.

A figure stepped in from the shadows into the edge of fluorescent light. Pristine suit with a perfectly placed maroon tie and a gold clip. Dress shoes tapped against the concrete as the man walked forward. His stride looked like a casual walk in the park.

The light caught his features: an adolescent face that looked barely over 25, blond hair neatly brushed back without gel, glasses that reflected a green and blue HUD and a small grin.

Isn’t that Ollie? Five years older, but unmistakably the same person who’d fought beside him in the forest.

Tank Top’s men raised their weapons, but their boss held up a hand. “Well, well. If it isn’t the big boogie man himself.”

“At ease, gentlemen.” Ollie spread his arms wide with a smirk that grew larger as he walked forward. “Is that any way to greet your employer?”

Red Jacket backed closer to the door, eyes looking between Ollie and the multiple spots for cover. “Glory. Didn’t expect you to grace us with your presence.”

“Clearly.” Ollie walked between the two groups, running his fingers along one of the weapon cases on the folding table. “Though I must say, I’m impressed by your initiative. Setting up your own distribution network, using my facilities…”

Ollie chuckled.

“Very entrepreneurial.”

“Look, Mr. Glory,” Tank Top started, “we can explain everything.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Ollie picked up one of the modified M4s, examining it under the harsh lights.

“And I’m sure it’s a fascinating story. But here’s what interests me. You’ve managed to move product without attracting attention. Kept things quiet, professional.” He set the gun down. “That’s a valuable skill set.”

Red Jacket’s hand tremored still in his jacket’s pocket. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” Ollie said. “You clearly have the infrastructure in place. The contacts. The discretion. Why waste all that talent?”

Tank Top’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “You want to bring us in officially?”

“With proper oversight, of course.” Ollie smiled. “And a more… equitable distribution of profits.”

“This is bullshit,” Red Jacket spat. “He’s playing us. Probably has a team ready to move in right now.”

“No team,” Ollie spread his arms again. “No backup. Just me, having a civilized conversation about business opportunities.”

Tank Top laughed, “A conversation? You don’t even have a piece on you. What kind of idiot walks in here unarmed?”

Above, the suited men tensed and hand signalled.

‘Whale in position.’

‘Hook in position. Wait for my signal.’

Gale cycled his essence. This was a fight he couldn’t run away from now. He didn’t know what happened to Ollie since the last time he saw him, but that stuff could wait. I’m not running anymore. I promised.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” Ollie said, still smiling. “Did I ever say I was unarmed?”

Tank Top’s laugh grew louder. “Boys, check this out. Glory thinks he can scare us with no gun. Probably got some prototype bullshit hidden up his sleeve.”

“Shut up,” Red Jacket hissed. “Just shut up and kill him. He knows too much.”

“Kill me?” Ollie sighed. “And here I thought we were having such a productive discussion.”

“Enough talk!” Red Jacket drew his pistol. “Light him up!”

The warehouse erupted in gunfire. Ollie slid to cover, sliding between bullets like a ghost. His hand snapped forward as he flicked up a small gray marble into the air. The marble arced onto his head and spun in a high pitch, then suddenly orbited him.

“Come now, gentlemen,” Ollie said, sidestepping bullets that homed in on him. “Let’s discuss this like reasonable businessmen.”

Red trails traced the path of each bullet from Red Jacket’s glock, superheating the air as they passed. Tank Top’s AK clacked rounds that left blue contrails as they rounded the corner onto Ollie.

“Reasonable?” Tank Top bellowed, emptying his magazine in a spray of gunfire. “You walked in here thinking you could just take over?”

Ollie dashed between two streams of bullets. The gray marble spun at an imperceivable speed around him. Bullets that would have met Ollie’s body deflected and disintegrated by the gray marble. “Take over? Please. I prefer to think of it as a merger. Your choice, gentlemen.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep