Stepping out of the taxi across the road, Max found himself standing still, his eyes fixed on the structure ahead. The Fortis Group headquarters rose high and imposing, a gleaming monument of glass and steel, its outer walls lined with cameras and watchpoints. It was less a corporate office and more a fortress, a citadel of security, built to impress and to intimidate.
Max crossed his arms and let a small grin curl onto his lips. It really does look like an iron fortress. Anyone trying to break into this place would have a nightmare. And maybe… just maybe… this could be a place for me too. If I take over a floor and turn it into a living quarter, I'd have one of the safest homes imaginable.
His eyes wandered up to the neat row of cameras sweeping across the perimeter. And with those cameras outside, I'd even see Aron the moment he tried to come looking for me. No more sneaking around with him breathing down my neck.
He also noticed that Na in his car had decided to drive by the building. He didn't know if Na wasn't taking his job seriously or if he was taking it too seriously. Wondering if Max hadn't noticed him and it was his way of not being too obvious.
Part of him Wondered if Na would even help Max out if he was in a situation where he were to get beat, and there was only one way to find out, which he wasn't too keen on.
For a few minutes, he simply stood there, admiring the view, taking in the sight of what was now his domain. Then, deciding it was time to move, he headed toward the zebra crossing. His hands were tucked casually in his hoodie pockets, his mind still half-drifting on the idea of what this building could mean for his future.
He was halfway across the striped path when a roar of an engine snapped his thoughts in two.
From around the corner, a gleaming white convertible screeched into view, its tires hugging the asphalt as it turned sharply. The car shot forward, the sun bouncing off its polished surface, the deep growl of the engine cutting through the quiet air.
The driver only spotted Max at the last second. Tires shrieked as the man slammed down on the brakes. The car skidded, stopping just short of hitting him.
But Max had already reacted. His body moved on instinct, heart jerking into his throat as he leapt forward, rolled hard onto the tarmac, and came up with his hoodie smeared in dirt.
"Damn it…" Max muttered, patting down his clothes, dust rising off the fabric. "I just washed these."
The man in the car leaned over his door, shouting without hesitation. "What the hell are you doing, kid!"
Max looked up, brushing off his sleeve. The man was in his mid-twenties, his skin tanned, his hair perfectly styled black. He wore a fitted suit with the collar open, a V of his chest showing, and a pair of sleek black sunglasses that gleamed in the sunlight. Even from a distance, Max could tell: this was someone who liked to flaunt his money.
"You didn't see the zebra crossing?" Max shot back, his voice rougher than he intended. "If there's a zebra here, it means people walk across. If it wasn't me, you could've hit someone else."
His tone cracked at the end. He couldn't help it. That sudden flash of fear, the image of headlights bearing down, the echo of another lifetime when he hadn't been fast enough, rattled inside him.
The driver tilted his head, lips twisting into a smirk. "What, you upset because you dirtied yourself? Relax. This isn't like other cars. I've got fast reflexes, the best brakes you'll find. There was no need to throw yourself on the floor like some drama queen."
Max's chest rose and fell with a slow breath. Forget it. No one's hurt. Let it go. That was what he told himself. But the heat rising in his chest demanded one last word.
"I'm telling you to be careful," Max said evenly. "Because next time, someone will get hurt."
The smirk widened. "And who the hell are you to tell me that? The police? Going to arrest me if I don't slow down?" His hand drummed the steering wheel. "I'd like to see you try."
Max's fists clenched at his sides. His feet began carrying him forward, step by step toward the car.
"You idiot!" he shouted, voice echoing down the street. "Do you really think a flashy car, driving fast, showing off, it's worth more than a life?"
The driver's grin only grew sharper, almost amused. "Man, you're some crazy kid. Maybe you need anger management." He reached casually into his glove box, pulled out a wad of crisp hundred-dollar notes, and tossed it lazily out the window. The bills fluttered in the air, scattering across the ground like fallen leaves.
"That should cover your little drama act," the man said coldly. "And a couple sessions of anger management too."
Max froze where he stood, fists trembling. The urge to drag the man out of his seat and show him exactly what anger looked like burned hot in his veins. One beating. Just one. He could justify it, file it under justice, even if it meant a police report, hospital bills, and explanations later.
But before he could move, the man revved the engine. With a flash of white and a screech of tires, the convertible shot forward, disappearing around the corner.
Max stood in the crossing, jaw tight, watching until the car vanished. He scanned the ground for something, anything, he could throw after it. But there was nothing. Only scattered bills tumbling along the asphalt.
Then his eyes followed the direction the car had gone. His gaze lifted just in time to see the white convertible descend into an underground car park.
The car park of the Fortis Building.
Max's lips pulled into a slow, grim smile.
"So. He's one of them."