Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

The taxi ride to Donald's warehouse was tense. At first, when Ethan told the driver of the location, the driver turned around.

His face was full of shock and disbelief.

"Wait. Wait. Are you really sure you get the location right?" the driver asked.

It was clear that his voice was shaking a little. "You mean that warehouse? Donald's place?"

"You know him? That's good," Ethan replied calmly, his tone steady. "That's the one."

The driver hesitated. "Sorry. I can't take you there."

"I'll pay triple," Ethan replied quickly. "If that is not enough, name me your price."

The driver took a moment. Going to that place? No matter how much money he was offered, he would still hesitate.

"$500," he said, trying to make Ethan give up and leave.

"I'll give you $600."

"What?!"

The driver took a moment to recover before letting out a deep sigh. "Fine. I can only take you about 100 meters from there."

He looked at Ethan, then to Mark. "That place is not safe. People avoid it unless they really have to go. It's scary over there."

"That's fine," Ethan said with a small nod. "Just show me the direction after that. I'll manage."

Mark, seated beside him, remained silent, his sharp eyes observing the driver's reactions.

The driver, still visibly uneasy, didn't say another word after that. His silence spoke volumes, and it was clear he was eager to get the trip over with.

Throughout the ride, his occasional nervous glances in the rearview mirror only reinforced his suspicion that Ethan and Mark weren't typical customers.

To him, they didn't look like the desperate types who needed to borrow money from Donald.

Their calm appearance and confident stance hinted at something serious, maybe a risky business deal or a conflict he wanted to avoid.

The driver stayed quiet because he did not want to upset or get on the nerves of his passengers.

'$600... $600... Do not ask other things,' he kept on reminding himself.

After twenty-something minutes, they finally reached the location.

"We've arrived. This is the furthest I can take you guys." The driver stopped the car abruptly and looked around nervously.

"Please. Get out of the car quickly." He was afraid that others saw him here. During normal times, he would avoid this place at any cost.

"Here's your money," Ethan said while handing out notes more than what they agreed.

The driver avoided eye contact as he accepted the fare from Ethan.

"$700?!" His eyes were wide open when he saw the money, but he said nothing more to Ethan regarding the money.

"The warehouse is just up ahead. You'll see the place right away," he said.

Ethan and Mark stepped out, the distant outline of Donald's warehouse looming ahead. The air felt thick here, filled with tension that made the nearby businesses and homes feel heavy.

After they walked for about fifty meters, they could see that people hurried past the warehouse, avoiding eye contact. It seemed they wanted nothing to do with what was happening nearby.

Mark looked around, his sharp eyes moving from one dark figure to another.

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After a moment, he spoke in a quiet voice. "This place makes me think of a country where I was deployed. Same tension in the air. The same sense of danger."

Ethan looked at Mark and noticed the way his face tightened. There was a quiet tension in his eyes, the kind that came from remembering something painful. Ethan could tell the atmosphere was bringing back old memories. And from the look on Mark's face, those memories had left scars deeper than anything physical.

Ethan spoke up, trying to ease the mood.

"It's okay, Mark. I'm sure this is nothing compared to what you've been through. We're just going up against a few small-time gangsters."

Right after saying it, Ethan felt a strange sense of pride. He almost laughed at himself.

Since when did I start calling gangsters "small-time" like it's no big deal?

He knew the answer. It was the Unlimited System.

Ever since it came into his life, the way he thought and acted had changed. He no longer saw danger the same way. Even in tense situations, he felt calm. In control.

No matter what happened, he had a quiet belief now.

The System would always be there. Watching his back.

The two walked toward the warehouse at a steady pace. They noticed people watching them from doorways and windows.

Some looked curious, others wary, and a few openly hostile. The unspoken question in their gazes was clear, 'Who are these two?'

Ethan and Mark gave off a strong presence that kept troublemakers away.

Mark's large build and military background, along with Ethan's steady confidence, sent a clear message, 'Don't mess with us.'

As they neared the warehouse, Mark turned to Ethan.

"Let me ask you one more time," he said, his tone serious. "You're sure about the cheque? We're taking the losing side here to avoid making this worse."

Ethan nodded, his face calm but firm. "Yeah. Let's settle this quietly, without making it a bigger mess than it needs to be."

He had already thought this through. A part of him wanted to test his Stealth skill, to sneak into Donald's place and handle things from the shadows. It was tempting. But deep down, Ethan knew that would be a mistake.

His Stealth was still at the Basic tier. What if someone powerful was guarding that place? Someone strong enough to challenge him or even Mark?

He realized it wasn't worth the risk. That's why he decided to go with the safer route—money.

And when it came to money, Ethan had no shortage of it. Whether it was a million, ten million, or even more, he could pay it. The only real cost was the slight sting of watching the money leave his account.

Mark studied him for a moment before nodding in return.

"Give me a moment, please, Ethan."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, stepping to the side as he began typing something quickly.

Ethan waited, his eyes scanning the area, always alert.

Mark came back after a moment and put his phone back in his pocket.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go."

As they got closer, the building looked bigger. Its worn exterior showed it had likely been the site of many shady deals.

Ethan and Mark felt the growing tension with each step, but they did not hesitate.

They were ready for whatever was inside.

The warehouse entrance had a group of armed guards nearby. Their presence displayed strength and served as a warning.

Two of them held shotguns, ready to raise them quickly if needed. The others had rifles slung over their shoulders. They looked relaxed, but their eyes were sharp and alert.

"How are they walking around with weapons in broad daylight?" Ethan asked, frowning.

Mark gave a dry chuckle. "Money and influence, Ethan. With enough of both, you'd be surprised what people can get away with."

"That's insane..."

Ethan fell quiet for a moment, thinking. If they could do it, could he? With the kind of wealth he had now, could he buy that same kind of power? Make the rules work in his favor?

'That wouldn't be hard,' he thought. 'Not with the money I have.'

As Ethan and Mark approached, one of the guards, a wiry man with a crooked grin, stepped forward.

"Halt," he barked. His voice was rough, likely from years of smoking, and carried an air of authority. "State your business."

Ethan's expression remained neutral as he replied, "Didn't Donald tell you anything?"

The guards exchanged glances before another, a stocky man with a buzz cut, let out a chuckle. "Oh, so you're that rich kid," he said, his grin widening. "We thought you'd have fled the country by now, brat."

Ethan didn't rise to the bait, keeping his composure steady. Mark, standing beside him, maintained a calm yet imposing presence, his sharp gaze scanning the guards' movements.

"Check them," the wiry guard ordered, motioning to the others.

Two guards stepped forward, their hands rough and practiced as they patted down Ethan and Mark. They searched thoroughly for weapons or hidden devices, but their efforts yielded nothing of interest.

They didn't confiscate their phones or other belongings, a detail that struck Ethan as odd.

It didn't take long for Ethan to realize why. They just didn't care. As Mark had told him, in Brookville, he believed Donald's influence was absolute.

Even if Ethan went to the police, they'd likely sell him out or make things worse for him.

These guards operated with the confidence of men who believed they were untouchable.

Still, Ethan couldn't help but wonder how someone like Donald—a man with no visible charisma or commanding aura—had managed to wield such influence.

It was a question he, Mark, and Jordan had discussed extensively. Their conclusion had been unsettling but logical, Donald was likely a front for someone far more powerful.

A shadowy figure who pulled the strings while Donald served as the face of their operations.

"Move," one of the guards barked, gesturing with his shotgun. The guards formed a formation. Two in front, one on each side, and two more bringing up the rear.