SSS-Rank Corporate Predator System

The Redhook Industrial Park was a graveyard of ambition.

It was a place of dead factories, leaving behind rusted steel frames and broken windows that looked empty in the night.

The air smelled of decay, a mix of stagnant water, old grease, and faint traces of harsh chemicals.

Miles Vane stood in the shadow of a collapsed water tower, a lone ghost in this city of ghosts.

He pulled his hoodie lower, the cloth giving him a small sense of comfort against his skin.

The system in his head, ever the cheerful tour guide, provided a crisp, unwelcome update.

[WARNING: ATMOSPHERIC PARTICULATE COUNT IS 34% HIGHER THAN ACCEPTABLE EPA STANDARDS.]

[RECOMMENDATION: MINIMIZE INHALATION.]

"Right," Miles muttered to the empty dark.

"I'll just hold my breath for the entire ambush."

"Excellent plan."

He checked the burner phone in his pocket.

11:58 PM.

He was early.

Punctuality was a virtue, especially when you were walking into your own mugging.

He let his eyes drift across the designated meeting spot: a wide, cracked concrete loading dock illuminated by a single, flickering sodium lamp that cast everything in a sickly orange glow.

It was the perfect stage.

Lots of open space for the victim to feel exposed.

Lots of shadowy corners for the predators to hide.

It was amateur hour, and he was the guest of honor.

[SCANNING IMMEDIATE VICINITY FOR HOSTILE SIGNATURES,] the system announced, its text scrolling calmly across his vision.

[FOUR UNIQUE SIGNATURES DETECTED.]

[POSITION 1: BEHIND DUMPSTER, 15 METERS LEFT.]

[POSITION 2: INSIDE CRANE CAB, 20 METERS RIGHT.]

[POSITION 3 & 4: ON ROOFTOP OF ADJACENT WAREHOUSE, 30 METERS REAR.]

"A pincer movement with rooftop overwatch," Miles thought, a flicker of dry amusement in his mind.

"Someone's been playing too many video games."

He could feel the faint, dull ache in his shoulder, a phantom pain from his encounter with Spike.

It was a good reminder.

A reminder of what happened when you were the prey.

Tonight, he was the hunter.

A sleek, black car with tinted windows pulled up to the loading dock, its headlights cutting through the gloom.

The engine purred for a moment before cutting out, plunging the area back into an eerie quiet.

The driver's side door opened.

A man stepped out.

He was dressed in a suit that looked far too expensive for the scenery, his hair slicked back, his smile a flash of predatory white in the orange light.

Broker.

He clapped his hands together once, a sharp, theatrical sound.

"Revenant!" Broker called out, his voice smooth as oil. "My man! I was beginning to think you'd stood me up."

Miles stepped out of the shadows, letting the flickering light catch his form.

He kept his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, his posture deliberately slumped, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

He was playing the part of the fool.

The nervous newbie.

"You're Broker?" Miles asked, his voice quiet.

Broker's smile widened. "The one and only. Purveyor of fine technologies to the discerning client."

He gestured to a sleek, metallic briefcase he was holding. "And I have exactly what you're looking for."

Miles began to walk forward, his steps slow and measured.

The system was feeding him a constant stream of information.

[HOSTILE 1: HEART RATE 82 BPM. ADRENALINE LEVELS NOMINAL.]

[HOSTILE 2: HEART RATE 85 BPM. SHIFTING POSITION.]

They were getting ready.

"Didn't think the newbie would actually show," a low voice drifted down from the rooftop, just barely carried on the wind.

It was one of the thugs, whispering to the other.

They thought he couldn't hear them.

The system's audio enhancers picked up every word with perfect clarity.

"Guy types like he's ordering a pizza and thinks he can buy high-tier skills?" the second voice snickered. "This is the easiest thirty grand we'll ever make."

Miles kept his face a blank mask, feigning ignorance.

He stopped about ten feet from Broker.

"You have the data-chip?" he asked, trying to sound nervous.

"Of course, of course," Broker said, his tone oozing fake professionalism. "But first, the payment. Business is business, after all."

Miles pulled out his burner phone, his hand deliberately trembling slightly.

He fumbled with the screen, pretending to open his crypto wallet app.

He was stalling.

Letting them get comfortable.

Letting them commit.

The system went into high alert, a red border flashing in his vision.

[HOSTILE POSITIONS MAPPED: 2 LEFT, 1 RIGHT, 1 REAR.]

[PROBABILITY TREES CALCULATED. OPTIMAL PATH: NEUTRALIZE FLANKERS FIRST.]

Broker watched him, his eyes glittering with greed. "Having a little trouble there, kid? Don't worry, take your time."

The condescension was so thick he could have choked on it.

This man had probably done this a dozen times.

Lure in a new user, flash a shiny piece of tech, then have his goons jump them and take everything.

It was a good business model, right up until you tried to rob the wrong ghost.

"Almost got it," Miles muttered, squinting at his phone.

He was calm.

His mind was a block of ice.

He was running the calculations, mapping the battlefield, and preparing to unleash hell.

This wasn't an ambush.

This was a hunt.

And the rabbit was about to find out the carrot was bait.

Broker gave a subtle, almost invisible signal, a slight nod of his head.

It was the sign.

The two thugs on the rooftop began to stand up, their shapes silhouetted against the dim sky.

The one in the crane cab started to open the door, a heavy wrench in his hand.

The one behind the dumpster began to creep forward, a long knife gleaming in the orange light.

[WARNING: HOSTILE INTENT DETECTED FROM ALL FOUR VECTORS.]

[ADRENALINE SPIKE REGISTERED.]

[ACTIVATING: SILENT WILL LVL 2.]

The last flicker of his own nervous energy vanished, replaced by a profound, chilling focus.

His fear was gone, locked away in its cage.

"Okay," Broker said, his smooth voice suddenly turning hard and cold. "That's close enough."

"Time to pay up, kid."

The thug from behind the dumpster lunged.

The ones from the rooftop jumped down, landing with heavy thuds on the concrete.

The man from the crane charged, his wrench held high.

They were closing in, a tightening net of violence.

Broker just stood there, a smug, triumphant smirk on his face, watching the slaughter begin.

It was four against one.

The odds were impossible.

Perfect.

Just as the first thug's knife sliced through the air where Miles's chest had been, Miles made his move.

He didn't dodge.

He didn't block.

He just… disappeared.

[ACTIVATING: PHANTOM DRIFT.]

The world smeared into a blur of orange and black.

He left a shimmering, ghostly afterimage hanging in the air for a split second, a perfect decoy.

The four thugs converged on the spot, their attacks meeting nothing but empty, greasy air.

They stumbled, crashing into each other in a confused, angry pile.

Broker's smirk vanished, replaced by a look of pure, baffled shock.

He spun around, his eyes wide, searching the shadows. "What? Where did he go?"

The trap had been sprung.

The bait was gone.

And the hunter was now loose in the darkness.