Scene 1: The CFO’s Bad Day

  Time: 10:00 AM. A filthy alley on the Queens border.

  Daniel stood in front of an ancient, rusted vending machine. He was holding an iPad in one hand and a silk handkerchief over his nose with the other. He was wearing a cream-colored Italian Linen Suit—the absolute worst choice of attire for this neighborhood.

  "Coca-Cola for $1.50?" Daniel muttered, tapping his screen. "The gross profit margin is terrible. If we replace this with generic energy drinks mixed in-house, the ROI increases by 40%..."

  Suddenly, the alley darkened. From both ends, 50 men emerged from the shadows. They didn't look like organized gangsters. They looked like a pack of starving wolves. Their clothes were ragged, their eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and they carried rusty chains and pipes wrapped in barbed wire.

  They were the "Rabid Dogs"—Don Antonio’s expendable suicide squad. Men so desperate they would chew through concrete for a meal.

  "Hey, pretty boy," the leader, a bald man with a jagged scar across his lips, hissed. "What are you doing in the Godfather's backyard?"

  Daniel flinched, stepping back. But then, a memory flashed in his mind. The 5:00 AM sessions. Flipping truck tires in the rain with Benny. He puffed out his chest (his heart was hammering against his ribs). "I... I am the CFO of Siren Capital! You are interfering with legitimate market research!"

  "I don't know what a 'Siren' is," the leader sneered, stepping closer. "But you look like a walking wallet." He lunged, swinging a heavy chain.

  WHOOSH. Daniel didn't think. His survival instinct took over. He swung his long, tree-trunk of an arm.

  CRACK! His fist connected squarely with the leader's jaw. The impact was terrifying. It didn't feel soft like hitting a punching bag. Daniel felt a violent vibration travel up his arm, rattling his shoulder socket. It felt like he had just smashed a sledgehammer into a concrete wall. Solid. Heavy. Powerful.

  The leader flew backward two meters, his head slamming into the brick wall. He was out cold instantly.

  Daniel looked at his own fist, eyes wide with shock. "What was that? Did I... did I just drop him? It felt... strong."

  But the pride lasted exactly one second. "KILL HIM!" the other 49 men roared. They didn't fear pain. They feared Antonio. They swarmed him like zombies.

  Daniel panicked. The spark of confidence vanished. "Wait! Stop! Too many!" A pipe smashed into his back. Hands grabbed his cream suit. "AHH! My suit! That's Cashmere, you animals!"

  He managed to punch one more guy, but they were everywhere. They clung to his arms, his legs, dragging the giant down. His immense physical strength was rendered useless by his F-Tier mental software. He curled into a ball, covering his head, letting them kick him.

  HONK!!! A deafening air horn blasted. A garbage truck roared into the alley. Gara leaned out the window, hurling a massive industrial wrench. WHIZ... CLANG! The wrench hit a thug square in the helmet. "Get in, you plastic pig!" Gara screamed.

  Daniel scrambled up, kicking two men away with frantic strength, and dove into the truck bed, leaving behind his ruined suit and his shattered dignity.

  Scene 2: The Wasted Potential

  Time: 11:00 AM. (Skull Cross Command Center).

  Daniel sat on a chair, holding an ice pack to his swollen cheek. He was sniffing miserably. "There were so many... like ants... I knocked out the leader, the punch felt huge, but they just kept coming..."

  Solomon stood before him. He didn't look at the bruises. He looked at the man. "Daniel," Solomon said, his voice cold. "You are 1.95 meters tall. You carry 100kg of muscle. You have the genetics of a Viking warlord. Why did you let a group of malnourished thugs beat you?"

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  "I was scared!" Daniel argued weakly. "They looked like they wanted to eat me!"

  Solomon shook his head in disappointment. "You lost not because they were strong. You lost because you view your body as a decoration, while they view theirs as tools. You have S-Tier Hardware running on F-Tier Software." Solomon pointed at the torn suit. "As CFO, you protect the money. But in this world, if you cannot use your fists to protect the asset, you are just a walking ATM. I feel sorry for your Viking genes."

  Benny, who was standing nearby, walked over. He poked Daniel’s bicep. It was hard as rock. "Daniel strong," Benny said simply, his voice low. "Muscle like Benny. Maybe stronger." He tapped his own chest. "But heart is small. When heart gets big... Daniel will be monster."

  Daniel looked down at the floor, his face burning with shame. He knew Benny was right.

  Scene 3: The Elite Training

  Solomon turned to Niko. "Niko. Those 'Rabid Dogs' had 50 men. No colors. This is Antonio testing our defenses. We cannot send Benny to clean up every mess. It is time to test the KPI of the Training Department."

  Niko stepped out to the courtyard. He blew his whistle. TWEET! 25 Skull Cross Tier 3 Soldiers assembled instantly. They wore black tactical vests over grey shirts.

  "Listen up!" Niko shouted, pacing in front of the line. "The enemy has 50 men. Odds are 1 against 2. Are you scared?" "NO!" The 25 men shouted in unison.

  Niko smirked, pointing toward Queens. "Do you know why they are so aggressive? Because Antonio feeds them moldy bread and sewer water." He stopped, looking his men in the eye. "But you... Solomon feeds you Steaks, cold Beer, and gives you soft mattresses to sleep on."

  Niko roared: "PROVE THE WORTH OF YOUR MEAL! SHOW THEM WHAT WEALTH TASTES LIKE!" "SIR, YES SIR!!!"

  Scene 4: Quality vs. Quantity

  Time: 12:00 PM. A vacant lot in Queens.

  The 50 "Rabid Dogs" were celebrating, smashing Daniel's iPad. The Skull Cross convoy arrived. 25 soldiers stepped out, forming two tight rows.

  Niko: "Phalanx Formation! Shields up!" When the 50 Rabid Dogs charged like a chaotic wave, the Skull Cross soldiers raised their batons in unison. CLACK! Steel discipline met insane rage. Niko: "Block! Hook! Break the knees!"

  Gara (The Failed Opportunist): Gara didn't join the formation. He sneaked behind a stack of oil drums, gripping his trusty 32mm wrench. He planned to play his usual "guerrilla warfare" game. He saw a Rabid Dog distracted by the main fight. Gara lunged. BONG! He smacked the guy on the head. The guy went down. "Hehe! Easy money!" Gara grinned.

  But the battlefield was messier than he thought. Two other Rabid Dogs spun around. They saw him. "Look at the midget trying to be a hero!" Gara flinched. "Uh oh..." THUD! A steel-toed boot slammed into Gara’s ribs. "Gah!" Gara collapsed, clutching his side. The pain was blinding. He felt a rib crack. The thug raised a pipe to smash Gara’s skull, but a Tier 3 soldier tackled the thug just in time.

  Gara scrambled away, hiding behind a dumpster. He was gasping for air, sweat pouring down his face. He looked at his trembling hands. "Damn it... I almost broke a bone. My tricks don't work against these lunatics. I'm too weak... If I keep this up, I'm going to end up on a stretcher like Daniel." For the first time, Gara felt a real fear of his physical limits.

  Scene 5: The Cold Message

  10 minutes later. The lot was silent, save for the groans of 50 broken men. The Tier 3 unit stood victorious.

  Niko walked over to Gara. "Hey, grease monkey. You okay? I saw you hit the dirt."

  Gara stood up straight, fighting the agonizing pain in his ribs. He hid his trembling hand behind his back and forced a grin. "Fine! Never better! I... uh... just slipped on some oil! These punks can't touch me!" (Internal: "I need to go to the gym with Benny tomorrow. This hurts like hell.")

  Niko shrugged, then walked over to the leader of the Rabid Dogs. He squatted down, looking him in the eye.

  "Go back to your master," Niko said cold and sharp. "Tell him this: Skull Cross eats Steak, and you eat Trash. Next time, tell old man Antonio to come himself."

  Scene 6: The Miser’s Rage

  Time: 1:00 PM. Antonio's Dark Office.

  The spy trembled as he reported the disaster. In the darkness, Don Antonio held a can of Budweiser and a slice of frozen shrimp pizza.

  Hearing that his 50 men were crushed by 25 recruits, his hand tightened. CRUNCH... SPLASH. The aluminum can was crushed into a ball. Cheap beer exploded over his hand.

  "Good... Very good..." Antonio growled, the sound vibrating in his chest like a dying engine. He took a bite of the cold, rubbery pizza to calm his nerves. "You dare use money to buy bravery? You feed them steak to beat my starving dogs?"

  He swallowed the cold shrimp. His eyes gleamed with malice. "Fine. You win this round. But maintaining an elite army is expensive, Solomon... very expensive. I will wait. I will watch your bank account bleed. Let's see what runs out first: your money, or my patience."

  End of Chapter 47.

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