Jason didn’t hesitate. He took one step, grabbed the Landlord’s good arm, and twisted it sharply. A sickening crack echoed through the street, followed by the Landlord’s agonizing shriek.
Santiago and the Dukes froze, shocked by the cold-blooded, professional violence.
Ethan: "Now we can talk, Santiago. I’m not here to take over your little street gang. I’m here to conduct business." He pulled out a wad of high-denomination bills—about $10,000—and threw it casually onto the cracked sidewalk. "I’ll offer you this as a severance package for your n."
Santiago: "You think $10,000 is enough for my respect?"
Ethan: "No. $10,000 is enough to cover the pain of one dislocated arm. Now, let’s talk about the real business." Ethan pointed at the Landlord. "I want that idiot gone. Permanently. You want to show strength and dominance? Bring his head. I’ll pay you $100,000 for his life."
The Dukes stirred again, not in anger, but in greedy anticipation. One hundred thousand dollars was a fortune to them.
"And why the hell should I do your dirty work? You insulted ." Santiago says with his eyes narrowed, weighing the risk.
Ethan: "Because the alternative is fighting Jason, and then . Jason will kill ten of your n before you even pull your trigger. And then I will kill the rest with my bare hands." Ethan let his Professional Boxing Skill subtly heighten his posture, making him look coiled and lethal. "But let’s make this easier. I want the Landlord’s head, and I want a couple of your toughest guys to try to fight —no guns, just fists. If I win, you take the $100,000 for the Landlord and you never step near this building again. If you win, you can have the building back."
The Landlord’s shriek had died down, replaced by the heavy silence of twenty n weighing a $100,000 offer against their leader’s pride.
Santiago, the boss, stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Ethan. "My na is Santiago, and my word is worth as much as my balls, so have no doubt that deals made with are law." He paused, his expression shifting to calculated suspicion. "Why would I betray the Landlord for money?"
"He is finished," Ethan stated simply, shrugging his shoulders slightly. He pointed with his chin at the Landlord, who was now sobbing into the crook of his unbroken arm. "Why hold on to dead weight? He just lost his property to and he can’t pay you what he owes. I can. The Landlord is a problem; I am a solution."
Santiago considered this, a slow, brutal intelligence showing in his eyes. He realized Ethan wasn’t just a rich kid; he was making an offer based on pure profit and power.
"Fine," Santiago finally said, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Let’s do this street style. Three n move forward!"
Three of the Dukes, burly n with scarred knuckles, stepped out of the crowd and lined up.
"You get to choose which one you fight first," Santiago announced. "If you win, we negotiate the rest, including that fat bastard’s life. If you lose, Jason drops the gun and you get to clean the sidewalk with your teeth."
[Street fighting! Ah, much better than those sissy professional rings! Rember, Champion: use the jab to blind, the hook to confuse, and the straight right to send them to their mommies!] The System enthusiastically barked instructions in Ethan’s head.
Ethan’s eyes quickly scanned the three n. The first was tall and lean, relying on reach. The second was pure muscle, likely relying on brute force. The third was short and stocky, often the most difficult to hit cleanly.
"Him," Ethan said, pointing to the tall, lean one. He was the least likely to take a punch, and Ethan needed a quick, dominant victory to break the will of the crowd.
"Tony, you heard the man," Santiago ordered, stepping back.
Tony cracked his knuckles, a confident sneer splitting his face. "I’m gonna snap that suit like a twig, boss."
Ethan took off his tailored jacket and handed it to Jason. He rolled up the cuffs of his expensive white shirt, his stance instantly shifting from wealthy heir to trained fighter. His Professional Boxing Skill activated, analyzing Tony’s posture and weight distribution.
Tony lunged first, throwing a wide, slow haymaker—a typical mistake of an untrained fighter.
Ethan ducked effortlessly beneath the punch. He countered with a blindingly fast left jab that snapped Tony’s head back, staggering him. Before Tony could recover, Ethan stepped inside and delivered a sharp right hook to the ribs, imdiately followed by a powerful straight right to the jaw.
The three hits landed in less than two seconds—crack, crunch, bang.
Tony didn’t even get a chance to groan. His legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the sidewalk like a marionette with cut strings, a trickle of blood already pooling from his split lip. He was out cold.
The street fell completely silent. The confidence of the Dukes evaporated instantly. They weren’t watching a street brawl; they were watching a professional dismantle their fighter with surgical precision.
[Told you! One point for the Champion! I love when you use that skill. It’s almost as satisfying as getting $50,000 for anal sex!] The System cheered with digital delight.
Ethan looked down at the unconscious Tony, then back at Santiago, who looked significantly less confident.
"Your turn," Ethan said, nodding towards the next fighter. "Or shall we skip the fighting and get straight to negotiating the price for the Landlord’s life?"
"You’re good with your fists," Santiago admitted, the respect clear in his voice. He glanced at Jason, who hadn’t moved and still held the assault rifle with chilling ease. "And you’re right. I don’t think that pig could ever pay us back."
He lowered his guard slightly. "I know the old man is also a great fighter, so I’m willing to hear your offer."
Ethan smiled, a slow, predatory expression. He knew he had won. "I don’t want to dominate your turf or replace you," Ethan stated clearly, maintaining the cool, business-like tone. "I just want to conduct business. I will give you the support, the money, the resources—everything you need to expand your influence."
"In return?" Santiago asked, his voice now purely transactional.
"In return, you must simply agree to be my subordinates. You run the street level; I run the money and the protection. You bring information, and you maintain order in my property," Ethan explained. "The $100,000 for the Landlord’s life is just a down paynt."
Santiago looked from the pile of cash to the unconscious Tony, then to Jason, and finally back to Ethan, the rich kid who had just proven he could be more ruthless than any street boss.
[Subordinates! Excellent! Now you have an army of useful idiots! See, Champion, sotis talking is more effective than violence. But not always!] The System concluded, satisfied with the outco.
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