As time passed, the back alley transformed.
Two massive floodlights stood ready, connected to independent batteries.
In the moonlight, faint outlines of fishing line were barely visible.
Thumbtacks and broken glass lined the edges of the walls.
This was William’s setup.
Always prepare before getting ambushed.
That’s how it worked in all the movies he’d watched in his previous life.
One report, and the next second some enemy would spawn right behind you for a brutal attack.
William had no intention of dying here.
Who knew if death meant going home or something worse?
He only had one life.
But since he’d already taken the contract, failing wasn’t an option with the High Table.
Besides, his system was for his use, not for someone else to inherit.
He wasn’t about to get himself cleaned off the board.
After making sure there were no gaps in his defenses, William found a spot with a clear view of the alley and hunkered down.
He hadn’t forgotten about snipers.
What if one was out there?
He didn’t have some magical sixth sense that would warn him when a scope was trained on him.
For his own safety, hiding was the smart move.
He was small fry anyway.
Who would bother with him?
What, was he going to get hunted down like a legend?
Was the Hotel’s money burning a hole in someone’s pocket?
What would anyone even get from killing William Stanley?
A ratty jacket?
From his hiding spot, William watched the back door, waiting for the enemy to arrive.
In a situation where negotiation was impossible, he refused to be someone else’s stepping stone to fame.
In fact, he didn’t want fame at all.
Fame was dangerous.
What William didn’t know, thanks to his lack of connections, was that he was already “somewhat famous.” That night, the bar was packed as usual.
Guests came in heavy makeup and flashy outfits.
The chatter from inside spilled out to the entrance, where a line had formed around the block.
Just another ordinary night.
Two doormen stood on either side of the main entrance, dressed in sharp uniforms, their smiles bright.
The customers were generous, and the tips were good.
The line stretched to the corner.
No one noticed that there seemed to be more people than usual tonight.
Even if someone did, they’d just chalk it up to the bar’s popularity.
Inside, waiters, servers, and bartenders worked as usual.
Under the dim lighting, no one noticed the weapons hidden beneath their clothes.
Security was unusually heavy tonight, and the staff were more serious than normal.
Even the usual backroom dealers had stayed away.
It was like the whole district knew this place was a powder keg tonight.
Apart from a few desperate thugs, one clueless newbie, and a Dove here to take notes, no one in their right mind wanted to be anywhere near this mess.
As time dragged on, the tension didn’t ease.
It built, like a storm about to break.
William didn’t relax either.
The back alley stayed as quiet as the night itself.
Some of the guests waiting out front gave up and left.
Others had already made it inside.
The street was lit only by harsh lamplight and a few drunken stragglers.
The rumble of engines shattered the silence.
Several black SUVs screeched to a halt in front of the bar.
Doors flew open before the doormen could even react.
Bullets tore through their bodies before they understood what was happening.
Blood blossomed from their backs, staining their white shirts crimson.
A group of masked men stepped out and advanced on the bar with less-than-professional precision.
William snapped to full alert at the first gunshot.
He studied every detail in the darkness.
He wasn’t planning to help.
His job was clear.
Guard the back door.
“Don’t let anyone through.” That’s what the manager had said.
William was just following orders.
What happened at the front entrance wasn’t his problem.
While the assault was underway out front, the action inside the bar began as well.
Like clockwork, weapons came out from under jackets.
Gunfire mixed with music, and in the strobing lights, bodies dropped with the first volley.
The regular patrons scrambled for cover, scrambling past the masked intruders without daring to look up.
The gunmen paid them no mind.
An eerie calm settled between the two groups.
By the time the shooters reached the dance floor, the music and lights had died.
In the dead silence, only footsteps echoed through the space.
A few unlucky civilians lay sprawled on the floor, looking like they were just taking a nap.
The leader cursed under his breath.
That was going to cost a fortune in penalties.
Sure, the gang had connections to make it go away.
But that didn’t mean the fines wouldn’t hit their bottom line.
He didn’t dwell on it.
He signaled his men with a few gestures, splitting them up to sweep the building.
On the second floor, hidden behind a wall, the man known as White Dove was busy taking notes.
Time of engagement, casualty count, civilian deaths, the identity of the attackers.
Somehow, he had it all down.
Soon, the second wave of resistance came from the bar’s manager and his men.
Using their knowledge of the layout, they engaged the intruders in a fierce firefight.
From William’s perspective, the bar had come alive again.
Gunfire rang out nonstop.
But by luck or circumstance, no one came through the back door.
No one tried to leave from it either.
William’s preparations seemed totally wasted.
The alley had become the safest place in the entire building.
William kept track of the time.
About twenty minutes later, the noise inside died down.
He still didn’t poke his head out.
He just silently mourned his pay.
Looked like his only takeaway tonight would be the suit.
Then he heard it.
A can being kicked.
He spun around and used Telekinesis to levitate a nearby rock, positioning it above the doorway.
He pressed himself into the corner and went completely still.
Realizing he’d been spotted, the footsteps stopped trying to be quiet.
They approached the door one step at a time, then stopped.
The silence stretched.
William barely dared to breathe.
He’d learned that trick from his Thievery skill.
White Dove stood outside the slightly ajar door.
He didn’t push it open.
The trap wasn’t sophisticated, but it showed a level of caution that impressed him.
This newbie, who’d already made a name for himself, was taking things seriously.
There was definitely something waiting for him on the other side.
“I’m not here to kill you.” White Dove touched his tattoo.
“I’m just here to tell you the job’s over.
You did well.
The money will be in your account.
You’re done here.” He was flexible like that.
Evaluating new talent was part of his job.
And this newbie had performed admirably.
White Dove had been there when the manager gave the assignment.
If you ignored the fact that one boss had ordered no survivors and the other had ordered them to fight to the last man, this was all William’s doing.
After speaking, White Dove saw no movement from the empty room.
He didn’t step inside.
Instead, he placed a business card on a nearby ledge.
“If you ever need anything, give me a call.
White Dove’s services will not disappoint.” With that, he turned to leave.
Just then, the half-open door swung wide.
William stood in the doorway, holding a mop.
“Uh, so, do you need someone to handle the cleanup?”