The night was pitch-black, with only faint starlight piercing through the clouds.
At the abandoned factory on the outskirts of Queens, a group of men stepped into the long-deserted workshop...
This place had once served as industrial chemical production grounds, shutting down during the economic crisis at the beginning of the last century.
Due to its remote location, it was usually deserted, making it a perfect spot for gangs to handle 'problems' or conduct shady, illegal activities.
"Boss, you think the kid got too scared to show?"
Standing on the factory's rooftop, the middle-aged man listened to his subordinate's question.
They were mid-level members of the gang, men who should've been partying at nightclubs or closing deals with their boss tonight, not waiting around in this godforsaken place for some high schooler.
The frustration was evident...
"He'll come. The kid is smart, he knows there's nowhere to run. A high schooler with no family or friends is perfect for recruitment." The boss was patient...
His employer, Frank D'Amico, was a major drug lord on the West Coast, operating under the guise of a legitimate trading company while secretly running a narcotics smuggling ring.
Recently, the gang had been locked in a brutal turf war with the Irish mob from Hell's Kitchen and the Japanese Yakuza, with casualties mounting on all sides.
They desperately needed fresh blood. That was where Sean came in...
A high schooler who could single-handedly put several street thugs in the hospital? That caught the boss's attention.
He planned to recruit the kid... every boss needed capable enforcers.
As for Sean's own wishes? Irrelevant. If the kid refused, he'd get a firsthand lesson in how dark and cruel the world could be.
"What time is it?" the boss asked with a frown.
"Almost time. When that little shit shows up, we gotta teach him a lesson! Who the hell does he think he is, making us wait around like this?"
A muscular enforcer cracked his knuckles while the others murmured agreement, all eager to 'welcome' their new recruit with their fists.
"Don't go overboard. That kid's gonna make me a fortune." The boss smirked.
To him, the low-level dealers peddling his drugs were nothing more than profit machines.
While bulk transactions went to higher-ups, the street-level distribution fell to men like him. His underlings handed over 30-50% of their earnings, risking prison while the gang's upper echelons pocketed most of the cash.
"Boss, he's here." A lookout called out.
Under the pale moonlight, a figure appeared... Sean, dressed casually, strolling into the abandoned factory as casually as if he were out for an evening walk.
"Looks like the kid needs to learn some respect." Sean's nonchalant attitude irritated the boss.
He'd make sure this arrogant brat got put in his place.
"You've got good timing," the boss sneered, "I once had a guy show up two minutes late. Know what happened? I cut off two of his fingers! That's how you teach a lesson, make sure they never screw up again..."
Sean smiled faintly. The boss's gruesome story might have terrified other high schoolers, but to him? It meant nothing. Their power levels weren't even comparable.
The boss's tough-guy act was downright laughable, like a child trying to intimidate an adult.
"If latecomers lose fingers, what do punctual guys like me get?" Sean asked with feigned curiosity.
"Broom... Go welcome our new recruit. Show him how things work here." The boss grinned, nodding to the hulking enforcer beside him.
Broom cracked his knuckles, his meaty face twisting into a scowl. Built like a grizzly bear standing upright, he radiated pure intimidation.
"I'll go easy on ya, kid," Broom rumbled, "If you don't fight back, I'll only break a few bones."
The others on the rooftop whooped and hollered, already anticipating the high schooler's brutal beating.
Broom stomped toward Sean. When the kid remained silent, he assumed fear had rendered him speechless.
Raising a massive fist, he swung–
*CRACK!*
A sickening snap echoed through the factory. Everyone on the rooftop froze, even the boss.
Broom's forearm bent at a 45-degree angle with white bone protruding through torn flesh.
Blood gushed out, quickly staining the dusty concrete as the enforcer collapsed howling in agony.
"I don't do 'gentle' with men." Sean smiled.
Who would have guessed this clean-cut teenager could snap a 6-foot thug's arm like a dry twig?
"Kill him!" The boss barked the order.
Sean had just cost him a man. Any thoughts of recruitment vanished... this high schooler was a straight-up demon.
The way he'd broken Broom's arm without hesitation, then stood there smiling? Absolutely chilling.
The boss drew his pistol. No matter how tough Sean was, bullets would shred him like any other man.
Gunfire erupted in the night, muzzle flashes stitching a deadly web through the darkness...
But Sean moved like a phantom. His enhanced reflexes made the speeding bullets appear sluggish, their trajectories clearly visible as they tore through the air.
Dodging and weaving with preternatural agility, he scaled the factory wall in seconds.
One by one, gunmen fell, their throats crushed before they could react. The cacophony of gunfire gave way to an eerie silence as Sean, his hands stained red, faced the last man standing.
"Stay back!" The boss trembled, desperately pulling the trigger of his empty pistol.
*Click* *Click*
Nothing...
"You know what they say... Oh right. I hate people pointing guns at my head."
Sean snatched the weapon, crushing it in his grip like aluminium foil. His hands possessed inhuman strength.
"I–I work for Frank D'Amico! Kill me, and you're a dead man!" The boss's bravado shattered completely.
He collapsed to his knees and begged pathetically.
"Frank D'Amico... Don't worry. I'll pay him a visit soon enough." Sean's tone was glacial.
The best way to handle threats? Eliminate them completely, along with anyone who might even think of becoming one...
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Read ahead on my P@treon...
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