They had parked a little away from the abandoned docks as they didn’t want to be seen straight away, and have to deal with the situation up front. The SUV idled in a pocket of shadow created by the large storage buildings; engines breathed softly and the world felt wide and distant. Inside the car, jackets creased under tense shoulders and every quiet movement sounded larger than it should.
Still from where they were, once they turned behind one of the large storage buildings they could see all of the containers and the countless people that were in the area. The sight was like a frozen storm, rows of stacked metal, bodies moving in small lines, figures picked out against the rust and the sky.
"That’s more then what attacked us." Darno said.
His voice was small in the car but it carried. He wasn’t surprised; the feel of the place had suggested that this was more than a simple grab-and-rush. There was weight here, planning, preparation, presence.
"Right, and if they wanted to do a simple deal there would be no need to bring so many people. There is another purpose to this whole thing." Max added and then turned to Aron. "Can you check out how many people there are, and if there are any openings for us to head in.
"IF we know where Sheri is as well we’ll know where to go to get here."
Aron nodded and he didn’t waste any time as he ran ahead. He moved with a kind of quiet that always put Darno on edge, calm motion, deliberate positioning. Aron used cover everywhere he could be seen. He threaded the space between crates with a practised eye, treating the clutter as deliberate camouflage instead of obstacles. He found edges and seams and moved through them like a shadow.
He even quickly grabbed onto a crate ledge and then pulled himself up onto it. For someone watching from the car, it looked like a practiced sequence, an athlete’s flow: plant, pull, climb, vault. He then sprinted across and leapt, until he landed right where the abandoned dock area was and rolled on the floor. The roll muffled his arrival, the way trained fighters made noise a choice rather than an accident.
For those that were watching what Aron was performing it was nearly something they would watch out of a video game. The motion was clean, and from a distance his silhouette read as precision rather than panic.
"Who is that guy?" Darno asked. "I think he’s even more athletic then anyone from the Fortis Group, and he’s perfectly moving within their blind spots.
"Maybe it’s something some of us could do if we had information from drones and such, but is he doing it on instinct?"
The question hung in the air. Darno’s mind rotated the idea, searching for an answer in memories he had of training drills and corporate security footage. Aron’s movements didn’t just come from skill; they came from experience, practice worn like armor.
The question never really came up for Joe and Stephen, because to both of them, the answer was that Aron was just Max’s bodyguard. A bodyguard of the Stern family was expected to be strong right? But now they thought about it, this strong, and able to do so much?
They had seen other members of the Stern family’s guards and they did not act in the same way. Those guards had been solid, reliable. Aron moved differently, lighter, precise, and it changed how the scene felt.
There was only one person who smiled as they heard of this.
’They should expect nothing less from a member of the Black hand.’ The thought was private and small, a ghost of some older world where names carried weight.
The group waited a while, ten minutes in total had passed without them seeing Aron. Time stretched. The sun leaned toward the horizon and light softened the rust into gold.
"Should we head inside?" Joe asked. "Maybe he was captured or something." His voice was practical, not panicked. He sounded like someone used to plans going sideways.
"No chance." Wolf said, knowing full well that Aron was an S Rank in his mind. "If he was to get caught there would be a huge ruckass, one person wouldn’t be enough to ever take him down."
Everyone nodded in agreement the more they thought about it. Wolf’s certainty made the thought solid. It had the shape of something familiar: underestimating talent is easy; correcting that mistake is costly.
A sudden movement snapped them all to attention. "I’m back!" came a voice, close and quiet.
"AHH!" Joe screamed as he turned around and Aron was right behind them. Before he could scream more Stephen placed his hand around his mouth to keep him shut. The world compressed into that single movement; fear yanked in and then was folded down.
"Sorry I startled you, I needed to find a way out without being seen, so the best option was to go around the side." Aron answered. "Anyway, the situation is rather hard.
"I was unable to locate where they would be keeping Sheri. There are guards set up in top of the highest containers.
"Those on the lower ones, and those on the ground itself between distinct alleyways. I couldn’t get close enough to even see where Jett was.
"However I can make a path to take out the surviving men on the containers bit by bit until you reached the area. IN total I think there might be around thirty of them."
Aron’s words were measured. He gave them what he had found and what he could do with it. Thirty, around there, he said. It was a number that shaped choices. It meant danger, but it also meant focus: pick the seams and you could push through.
Max didn’t want to over rely on Aron. He believed he could do it, but it also meant that their group might be the one coming with bad intentions if they made the first attack. That was a risk Max measured carefully. The quiet that had settled between words contained strategy.
That’s when Max could feel his phone vibrating as well, and when he looked at it, it was from the same unknown number. The little screen felt louder than it should have, the buzz like a counted heartbeat.
"It looks like we’re running out of time, so we’ll just have to stick with the other plan, and Aron I’ll be counting on you as well." Max said, voice steady.
The other plan was in motion and that’s when Max appeared out to the docks on his own. He moved like someone who knew how to enter a room and make it respond. He stepped from shadow to open ground, and the wind snapped at his jacket.
"Tell Jett, that the one he asked for is here!" Max shouted as he was on the ground floor of the docks. His voice carried across metal and wood, a clear line thrown at a distance.
Two men had come out, and then gestured to Max.
"Follow us."
Max continued to follow the men while looking around him. The other guards stayed in place. There was a pattern to them, hands on hips, eyes sweeping, patience like a trained animal.
When he ventured into the center where there were crates all around and from a bird’s-eye view it was almost like a giant plus sign, with the man named Jett right in front of him. The arrangement made the space feel confining, like the floor and the stacks had agreed on a box.
"So your the one that they wanted....That guy seem’s to hold petty grudges so it’s unfortunate for you." Jett said.
Max didn’t flinch, though the words had weight. They threw out a line meant to bait and measure.
"Where is Sheri?" Max asked. "I came here like you requested, and you are to return Sheri that was part of the deal."
Jett lifted his finger wiggling it form side to side.
"No, the deal was you, and money to Sher, so it’s two parts, and the first part, is giving you a beating."