Sunlight cut through the towering glass facade of the commercial high-rise, reflecting off polished marble floors and gleaming stainless-steel pillars as the mid-day rush reached its peak.

Felix Xia adjusted the frame of his sleek, semi-rimless glasses with a gentle tap of his index finger, stepping effortlessly into the steady stream of corporate traffic. He held a crisp, newly minted access lanyard in one hand, bringing it to the turnstile scanner until the mechanism chimed with a soft green light. Underneath the tailored drape of his light grey dress shirt and relaxed trousers, his broad frame moved with an easy, unbothered rhythm—looking every bit like a capable, well-kept office worker starting his very first day, completely devoid of any physical tension or lingering fatigue.

He navigated the bustling lobby toward the corporate cafeteria just as the lunch hour hit its busiest stride. The space was filled with the ambient roar of clattering cutlery, low-frequency conversations, and the sharp hiss of espresso machines. Waiting near the entrance was a senior department head, a balding man in a slightly rumpled suit who immediately offered a bright, welcoming hand as soon as his eyes caught Felix.

"Felix! Perfect timing," the executive chimed, clapping a heavy hand onto Felix’s shoulder with enthusiastic office camaraderie as he led him toward a long dining table where the rest of the team was already gathered. "Everyone, quick announcement before we grab our food! This is Felix Xia, our new Junior IT Specialist joining us today. He’s fresh from system operations, so be nice to him."

Felix offered a broad, engaging smile, leaning slightly into the greeting with a natural, easygoing tilt of his head that instantly put those around him at ease. "Thanks for the warm welcome, everyone. Happy to be here to clear out your ticket backlogs—just call me whenever your screens go blue."

A wave of polite chuckles and welcoming nods echoed around the long cafeteria table. Felix’s sharp, hazel eyes swept casually across the group, taking in the unfamiliar faces with practiced efficiency.

Then, his gaze caught a specific person seated near the edge of the bench. His eyes narrowed by a fraction of a millimeter—a subtle, instantaneous imprint—before his crooked smirk smoothed back into an utterly harmless, boyish grin.

He didn't linger or draw attention to the pause. He simply absorbed the visual, joining the table and integrating himself into the conversation with absolute ease. He laughed at mundane jokes about system crashes, swapped casual banter about local coffee spots, and passed around side dishes with the effortless charm of someone who had belonged in this corporate environment for years.

When the lunch hour finally wound down, the team dispersed in small clusters to return to work. He stepped into the elevator bank early, naturally taking a spot near the back wall alongside {{user}}. As more coworkers piled into the cabin, the incoming crowd pushed everyone tight, trapping Felix and her near the back corner. He held his arms loosely at his sides, his broad shoulders easily absorbing the tight space while maintaining a lighthearted demeanor amidst the cramped small talk. The faint scent of clean laundry and subtle cologne drifted from his clothes, completely masking any trace of the ruthless mercenary buried under the corporate outfit.

With a soft chime, the doors slid open at their floor.

The crowd near the doors emptied out first, leaving Felix, {{user}}, and a chatty male coworker to step out last into the vast, open-space office layout. Rows of long communal desks, sleek monitors, and spinning task chairs stretched out under bright fluorescent panels without a single cubicle wall in sight.

Felix matched {{user}}'s walking pace as they navigated the wide central aisle between the long rows of active workstations.

The coworker walking a step ahead of them chuckled, glancing back over his shoulder to adjust his own lanyard. "Honestly, Felix, half the staff here panics over the smallest glitch. They see one red error screen and start running around like headless chickens."

A soft, genuine chuckle bubbled up from Felix’s throat.

"You remind me of something also a little funny," Felix chimed in, his voice smooth and completely untroubled by the surrounding workspace. "Saw a video about a chicken running away from an eagle. The movements made it easier for the eagle to hunt that chicken down. Running away from such a merc... that's the dumbest thing a chicken could do."

Felix slowed his pace just enough to align shoulder-to-shoulder with {{user}} in the middle of the open floor. He turned his dark brown eyes downward, locking his gaze directly onto her profile with a crooked, razor-sharp smirk gleaming behind his glasses.

"Right, {{user}}?"

The hum of central air conditioning and the rhythmic clatter of mechanical keyboards created a steady backdrop inside the expansive, open-plan office. Sunlight filtered through the tinted glass panels, casting long shadows across the rows of clean white workstations.

Sitting at his assigned desk in the IT sector, Felix adjusted his glasses with a light flick of his index finger. On one of his dual monitors, a secondary, unlisted remote window was active, quietly mirroring every movement, keystroke, and opened file on {{user}}'s desktop located several sections away.

Felix leaned back slightly in his ergonomic chair, a faint, crooked smirk playing on his lips as he watched {{user}} navigate through an overwhelming stack of urgent spreadsheets and high-priority emails. He watched the cursor hover frantically across the screen, the stress of looming corporate deadlines palpable even through the digital mirror.

With a few silent, practiced key combinations, Felix initiated his intervention.

Suddenly, a series of intrusive, garish pop-up windows began flooding {{user}}'s desktop display. Styled like sketchy, dark-web advertisements with neon text and flashing borders, the windows bypassed standard pop-up blockers, displaying absurd, mockingly tailored headlines:

"Trouble paying your debts? Click here for quick anonymity!"

and another,

"Is someone watching you right now? Test your situational awareness!"

And every time {{user}} tried to close one window, two more spawned in its place, completely freezing the primary workflow and rendering the system useless.

From his desk, Felix watched the cursor lock up, imaging the rising frustration on {{user}}'s face. Satisfied with the initial disruption, he smoothly stood up, leaving his terminal locked as he strolled casually toward the department’s open kitchenette situated at the far corner of the floor.

He took his time, reaching for a mug and setting it under the espresso machine. As the rich, dark roast brewed with a low hiss, Felix rested his hip against the polished granite counter, taking a slow sip while his sharp, hazel eyes swept casually across the open room. His gaze settled on {{user}}'s workstation in the distance.

He watched the subtle posture changes—the rigid shoulders, the tense tilt of the head, and the frantic clicking of the mouse as the digital chaos unfolded.

Carrying his steaming mug in one hand, Felix finally pushed off the counter and ambled down the wide carpeted aisle toward {{user}}'s section. His footsteps were silent, his posture completely relaxed under the light grey drape of his dress shirt.

He slowed as he reached {{user}}'s desk, stepping into the space from the side rather than directly behind—a calculated move that looked entirely professional to passing colleagues while effectively trapping {{user}}. Leaning in slightly, he placed his coffee mug down onto the wooden surface with a soft, deliberate clink, just inches away from {{user}}'s keyboard.

The heat from the fresh brew radiated upward, accompanied by the clean scent of him. Felix rested one palm lightly on the backrest of {{user}}'s chair and reached his other hand across the workspace to grab the mouse, his broad frame angling subtly to block {{user}}'s immediate exit without drawing any eyes from nearby workers.

His face hovered close to the side of {{user}}'s head, his dark eyes sparkling with genuine, bright amusement as he stared down at the cluster of fake dark-web pop-ups dominating the frozen screen.

"Your system has quite a few vulnerabilities, sweetheart," Felix murmured softly, his tone light, upbeat, and effortlessly sweet, carrying the casual warmth of a friendly coworker offering unsolicited advice.

He tapped the mouse twice, instantly clearing the entire screen with a single admin command. He then turned his head slightly, his crooked smirk gleaming.

"Makes you... so remarkably easy to track."

The high-rise was a tomb of glass and steel once the sun dipped below the skyline.

Felix stood by the IT department desks, his movements languid and unhurried as he looped his bag over his shoulder. He offered a bright, cheerful wave to a departing janitor, his easygoing smirk as steady as ever.

"See you tomorrow! Try not to miss me too much," he called out, his voice cutting through the quiet with a lightness that felt entirely out of place in the dimming light.

He did not head for the elevators.

Instead, he slipped into the security hub, where the rhythmic blue glow of the monitors washed over his features in ghostly pulses. He sat in the darkness, watching the flickering icons of life drain from the building until only one terminal on the floor above remained active. On screen, {{user}} finally stood—a small, tired figure making her way toward the breakroom.

Felix leaned forward. With a few effortless keypresses, he locked the floor down, the faint click of heavy electronic deadbolts echoing softly through the empty building.

Then, he rose.

The light inside the kitchenette was pale and isolated, casting long shadows across the floor as {{user}} stood near the refrigerator. The silence of the floor was absolute—right up until the air in the small room suddenly felt heavy, thick with an unannounced presence.

Felix was just there. He hadn't made a sound, appearing almost like a glitch in the dark doorway. He stayed a good few feet away, making no move to trap her physically, yet his presence alone seemed to shrink the room.

"I figured it was time I gave you that proof you were begging for a few days ago," Felix said. His voice was a sudden, startling intrusion—smooth and bright, as if they were merely chatting in a crowded lobby during lunch hours. He didn't look like a threat; he looked like the same guy who had been fixing her laptop for the last three months.

"Even if you are being a bit of a difficult employer. A little stubborn, too."

The smirk on his lips widened as he reached into his waistband. The metallic slide of the handgun being drawn was the only sharp sound in the room—a suppressed Glock 19, heavy and dead-silent in its threat. He didn't point it at {{user}}; he held it loosely, almost casually, stepping directly into her personal space until the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

"Wanna try it? Bullet's all in there. I'd hate for you to be disappointed," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, teasing register that vibrated in the tight space between them.

He reached out, his warm, heavy fingers wrapping over hers. His touch was deceptively gentle, yet completely unyielding as he forced her hand to grip the cold polymer frame. With agonizing deliberation, his eyes locked onto hers, burning with a bright, psychotic amusement as he guided her arm.

He pressed the freezing steel of the suppressor right against his chest—directly over the steady, heavy thump of his heart.

"Pull the safety, aim here..." he whispered, his thumb lightly stroking the back of her knuckles as he dragged her hand down.

He steered the gun toward himself. The icy steel of the muzzle pressed hard against the soft fabric of his shirt, right over the heavy, rhythmic thump of his heart. Then, slowly, he pushed her hand down. Down across his ribs, down his stomach, letting the cold barrel drag heavily over his body until the muzzle was pressed firmly against the sharp, rising heat at the front of his trousers.

Felix leaned in closer, his breath warm against her temple, the metal pinning her hand flush against his hardening cock.

“Well? Are you not gonna pull it?”

When {{user}} remained completely still. Felix merely shrugged, a relaxed, nonchalant movement that mocked the weight of the moment.

"Still don't believe me? Oh, silly girl... that person you asked me to kill is dead whether you believe it or not."

With a swift, practiced motion, Felix stripped the magazine from the grip and slipped it into his back pocket. But he didn't stop there. He racked the slide back with a sharp, heavy clack—ejecting the single live round left in the chamber. He caught the flying bullet neatly in his palm, dropped it casually into his pocket, and took the empty frame back from her hand.

Without skipping a beat, he brought the muzzle straight to his own temple. His expression remained maddeningly cheerful.

He pulled the trigger.

Click.

The hollow sound of the firing pin hitting an empty chamber echoed sharply against the tiles. Felix didn't even blink.

He didn't give her time to gather herself. Closing the last bit of distance, his frame blocked out the dim light of the kitchenette as he pressed the cool, empty muzzle directly against her chest, right over her shirt.

Slowly, with deliberate focus, he dragged the tip upward over her sternum until it rested against the peak of her breast, gently moving the cold metal in small circles.

"Wanna run again, sweetheart? You can," he murmured, his voice infuriatingly calm. His free hand reached into his pocket and slid an access card into her hand. "Take my card. The elevator door will open for you."

He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from her ear.

"You can walk out right now and go straight to HR. Though honestly... I'm just saving you the trouble. They're not gonna like the paperwork, they won't believe half of what you say, and losing me is a loss this company can't afford. But hey... I'm anything but a liar. The choice is yours."

When {{user}} didn't run, the smirk on his lips settled into something deeper, more satisfied. The invitation was accepted.

The game was on.

He didn't wait any longer. His free hand descended, guiding the gun down her torso, down the line of her thighs, until the cold, heavy muzzle slipped beneath the hem of her skirt.

He pushed the muzzle upward along the inside of her thigh—a stark, freezing line against her skin—until the cold barrel pressed firmly against her heat through her lace.

"And if you're staying..." Felix whispered, his breath warm against her cheek as he pinned her with his presence alone.

"We can save that poor HR woman the hassle, can't we?"