The Rizz God System

The office was a buzz of hushed conversations and hurried footsteps the next morning. Elliot sat at his desk, a black coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. His inbox was flooded with routine emails, but his focus remained locked on one message in particular—an encrypted file Bianca had forwarded to him late last night.

"Aaron Blake - Financial Records Review."

The Rizz God System stirred to life in his mind, its voice smooth but serious.

"This file is a goldmine, Elliot. It might be messy, but somewhere in there is the nail for Aaron's coffin. You need to find it."

Elliot glanced around the office. Bianca was in her glass-walled office, her eyes sharp as she typed furiously on her keyboard. Aaron's desk, however, was conspicuously empty.

"Aaron knows the walls are closing in, Elliot. He's scrambling. But desperation makes people sloppy. Use that."

Elliot opened the file and scrolled through line after line of spreadsheets, wire transfers, and vague financial descriptions. The numbers blurred together—shell companies, offshore accounts, unnamed "consultants." But one recurring name caught his eye: Silver Key Holdings.

His stomach clenched. The Silver Key—that bar.

"That's the thread, Elliot. Pull it."

Elliot took a deep breath and shut his laptop. He needed answers, and he wasn't going to find them in numbers. He needed to go to the Silver Key and see what was hiding in plain sight.

---

The Silver Key

The bar was exactly as Elliot remembered—dim lighting, faint jazz, and smoke hanging heavy in the air. But this time, the bartender's gaze lingered on him a little too long as he stepped inside.

Elliot approached the bar, sliding onto a stool. "Whiskey, neat."

The bartender poured the drink without a word, his eyes darting briefly to a closed door at the back of the bar before looking away.

"That door, Elliot," the system whispered. "Something's behind it. But be careful—people like Aaron don't play fair."

Elliot left a crisp bill on the bar and casually made his way toward the door. The brass handle was cold under his palm as he turned it and stepped inside.

The room was small, with dark leather chairs and walls lined with expensive bottles of liquor. But it wasn't the decor that caught Elliot's attention—it was the man sitting in one of the chairs.

It was the same man Elliot had seen Aaron talking to days ago. His sharp suit was impeccable, his silver hair slicked back, and his cold gray eyes locked onto Elliot the moment he stepped inside.

"Well, you're certainly not Aaron," the man said, his voice low and gravelly.

Elliot hesitated. "I could say the same about you."

The man smirked faintly, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. "Aaron's running out of time. And I'm guessing you're the reason for that."

Elliot felt a faint buzz from the system, a silent warning.

"What exactly are you and Aaron involved in?" Elliot asked, his voice firm.

The man's smirk vanished. "You ask too many questions, kid. And questions can be dangerous."

Before Elliot could respond, the door swung open behind him. Two large men in dark suits stepped inside, blocking his exit.

The older man sighed. "Now, normally, I'd have my boys rough you up and toss you onto the curb. But… I admire curiosity. So I'll give you one chance. Walk out that door and forget you ever came here. Because if you don't…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but the threat hung heavy in the air.

Elliot's pulse hammered in his ears as he glanced back at the two men.

"Walk away, Elliot," the system said sharply. "You can't win this fight—not here, not now."

Elliot clenched his fists but nodded stiffly. "Fine."

The men stepped aside, and Elliot walked back out into the smoky bar, his mind racing.

---

The Fallout

Elliot stormed back into the office later that afternoon, his pulse still racing from the encounter. Bianca spotted him immediately and stepped out of her office.

"Elliot? What happened?"

He shook his head. "Aaron's in deeper than we thought. There's a man—a fixer, someone dangerous—who's funding whatever Aaron's been doing. They know I'm digging."

Bianca's face paled slightly, her professional mask slipping for just a moment. "Did they threaten you?"

"Yes," Elliot said simply.

Bianca stepped closer, her voice low. "We need to take this to Richard. This isn't office politics anymore—this is dangerous."

Elliot hesitated. The system buzzed softly.

"Elliot, she's right. But you need more. A smoking gun. Something undeniable."

"We can't go to Richard—not yet," Elliot said. "We need something concrete. If we go now, Aaron will spin it, and Richard might hesitate."

Bianca crossed her arms, her jaw tight with frustration. "So what do we do?"

Elliot exhaled slowly. "We wait. But not for long."

---

Aaron Strikes Back

That evening, Elliot sat at his desk long after the rest of the team had gone home. The glow of his screen illuminated his tired face as he scoured the financial records again, searching for any missed detail.

His phone buzzed on the desk.

New Message from Unknown Number:

"You should stop digging, Graves. Before you dig your own grave."

Elliot's blood ran cold.

"He's watching you, Elliot," the system said, its voice tight with urgency. "Aaron knows you're getting closer. He's scared—and cornered animals are the most dangerous."

Elliot's mind raced. The stakes had shifted again, and now it wasn't just his career on the line—it was his safety.

The door to the office creaked open, and Bianca stepped inside, her face pale.

"Elliot… Aaron's here."

Elliot stood up immediately. "Where?"

"In the parking garage. He's waiting for you."

The air between them felt heavy with unspoken dread.

"Be careful, Elliot," the system whispered. "This isn't just a game anymore."

Elliot nodded, grabbing his coat and slipping his phone into his pocket. Bianca reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Promise me you'll be careful," she said softly, her green eyes filled with worry.

"I will," Elliot said firmly.

He stepped into the elevator, his reflection staring back at him in the mirrored doors as they slid shut. The hum of the elevator filled his ears, his pulse steady but loud in his head.

When the doors opened to the dim parking garage, Elliot stepped out, the faint sound of dripping water echoing in the cold concrete space.

Aaron was leaning against his car, a cigarette in one hand and a knowing smirk on his face.

"Well, Graves… looks like we have a lot to talk about."

The faint red glow of the cigarette ember illuminated Aaron's face as he exhaled a slow breath.

---

To Be Continued…