Gateway Protocol

A shadow moved behind the door. The metallic grind of a lock echoed from within. The red door creaked open slowly, and a man with a rifle stared Cole down with sharp eyes.

He gave a curt nod, lifting the barrel slightly.

"Move," he said in a clipped tone.

"I don't know what you want… but the boss seems to like your style."

The man gave Cole a quick once-over, his lip curling in a faint smirk.

"Now walk."

Cole didn't say a word. His steps tightened, measured. The men around him were still tense, but they wouldn't fire unless someone inside gave the order.

The corridor was narrow and dark. Peeling paint clung to the damp walls, and the air reeked of mildew and old blood. This office had stories ones it didn't tell kindly.

They reached a small room.

A heavy desk sat at its center, an ashtray crusted with mold and a lit cigar resting on its edge. Behind a torn curtain window sat a man in a black suit.

He wasn't old, but he looked worn. His eyes were razor-sharp. His hands, though weathered, still carried power. He looked like someone who once owned the streets and never gave back the deed.

The rifleman nudged Cole forward.

"Sit."

Cole lowered himself into the chair across the desk, keeping his gaze locked on the man before him.

The boss studied him in silence for a few seconds, then raised his hand. With a subtle flick of his fingers, the armed man lowered his weapon and stepped back.

The boss drew the cigar from his lips, exhaled a thick stream of smoke, then let out a dry laugh.

"That was one hell of a performance… hahah.

You've got guts, kid.

But tell me something…"

He crushed the cigar into the ashtray as his voice dropped:

"Where does that courage come from?"

"You barge in like that, insult one of my men, slam a door in his face…

You really thought you could just stroll into my office?"

Cole stayed silent for a moment.

Then he lifted his head slightly. His voice wasn't cocky, nor submissive. Just... matter-of-fact:

"Seeing as I'm sitting here right now…

Yeah. I did."

The boss exhaled through his nose. Not angry. Not amused. Just waiting to hear Cole's purpose.

Cole leaned back in his chair, his eyes steady.

"Look," he said.

"You have information.

I've got muscle."

"You give me what I need…

and I'll give you whatever you want in return."

"Fighting, delivery, protection I don't ask questions.

But I need to know what happened to that girl."

The room fell still. The boss narrowed his eyes, weighing Cole's words.

Outside, the city still murmured.

But in here…

something else was about to begin.

The boss locked eyes with Cole.

His smile wasn't genuine it curled at the edges with mockery and disdain.

He tilted his head slightly, then leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.

His fingers tapped the table in a slow, steady rhythm.

"So," he said with a mocking chuckle.

"What made you think I needed your help?"

Cole dipped his head for a moment, then raised his gaze, meeting the man's eyes directly.

There was a slight twitch in his brow, and the corner of his lips curled with quiet arrogance.

"Let's say… watching how easily your men fell apart."

A brief silence fell over the room.

Even the walls seemed to hold their breath unable to swallow the audacity of that answer.

The boss's smile vanished.

His expression sharpened. He wasn't amused anymore, nor impressed.

Seriousness settled over his face like a creeping fog.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small folded note.

He placed it on the desk and traced a finger over the paper.

"There's a car waiting outside," he said firmly.

"A transfer. It's ready."

His voice was low and steady not quite a command, but it had the weight of a test.

"Where you'll take it, who you'll deliver it to…

which vehicle you'll bring back all of it's written on that paper."

His eyes stayed fixed on Cole now.

Not like a guest.

Like a man being evaluated.

And that crooked grin returned this time laced with something darker.

"Go on…

Handle this."

He slowly raised the cigar to his lips, took a drag, then spoke again through the haze of smoke:

"Then we'll see…

if you're actually worth a damn."

A pause.

The boss's voice in that final line was barely more than a whisper.

But its weight hit like a warning.

This wasn't just a job.

It was a trial.

And Cole…

would either earn trust here

or never step through that door again.