Over a hundred elite security guards, scrambled from the corporation's local headquarters, sealed off the entire top floor.
The fire doors at the stairwell were locked from the outside. The elevators were set to exit only.
My crew was boxed in the hallway, a wall of black uniforms on both ends.
No way out.
Lucas Perry didn't rush. He just sat on the couch, watching me.
Muffled thuds echoed from the corridor. My guys, dropped one by one with stun batons.
Screams, back to back.
Less than two minutes and the hallway went dead silent.
A security captain walked in, blood on his boots, and gave Perry a nod.
"Mr. Perry, everyone outside has been neutralized."
Perry nodded, satisfied.
He stood and strolled over to me, taking his time.
"Little street punk. Little, little street punk."
He sighed.
"You really thought you could grab some guys, bust in here swinging, and that would fix things?"
"In this city, how much do you think fists are worth?"
"Capital. Legal teams. Media. Networks. You haven't even heard of half the things that could grind you into nothing. Any single one of them would do."