# CHAPTER 21
**you managed to ruin my smoke**
A faint smile appeared on his face."Now, now, big guy... I really wouldn't do that if I were you," Scott said quietly, staring down at the glowing red targeting dot resting on his chest.
"Still clinging to that baseless confidence?" Big Dogg sneered, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "What is it? Are you wearing a bulletproof vest under that expensive tailored jacket?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the red laser dot instantly glided up from Scott's chest, coming to a dead stop right between his eyes.
Scott didn't even blink.
"Why on earth would I need body armor?" with a shrug Scott said, shaking his head with a cold, hollow laugh. "Have you forgotten that Vane Industries is the largest tech conglomerate in this country?"
Big Dogg burst into laughter.
He took a slow drag from his cigarette before pointing it at Scott.
"Largest my ass!" Big Dogg spat, a guttural laugh echoing from his throat. "It's been over a year since Grayson Stark went into the dirt, and all Vane Industries has managed to do is churn out cheap knockoffs of tech Stark Tech built a decade ago! The most hilarious part? Your shiny new toys are still inferior to what Stark threw in his scrap heaps!"
Another puff of smoke drifted into the air.
Scott's face darkened instantly.
The words hit him like a physical strike. He knew it was the truth—every board meeting at Vane was an exercise in desperate, frantically back-engineered theft—but hearing a street-level mobster throw it directly in his face made his blood run hot. Scott's hands curled into tight fists. His knuckles popped as his eyes burned with pure, murderous intent.
"What?" he mocked. As he saw the vein throbbing on Scott's temple and grinned wider, leaning in maliciously. "What's the matter, Scott? "Did I touch a nerve?" Or Did the big bad truth snag your tongue?"
Scott remained silent.
Big Dogg grinned wider.
"The truth hurts, doesn't it?"
Scott said nothing, his breathing growing shallow and heavy.
"That's right," Big Dogg taunted softly. "Deep down, even *you* know Vane Industries is nothing but a fraudulent hollow shell. Your company would never have climbed this high without your boss's filthy tricks and treacherous heart.Vane Industries would still be crawling in Stark Tech's shadow."
Scott's eyes became frighteningly cold.
His grip tightened around the P-14.
"You bastard..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"You bastard..." Scott growled. He raised the P-14 submachine gun in his right hand, pointing the dark barrel directly at Big Dogg's nose. His arm shook with rage. "You absolute bastard! Do you have any idea how much blood and effort I've poured into building this standing?! How dare you call us frauds?!"
"You have no idea..."
"...how much I've sacrificed to get where I am."
The second Scott raised his firearm, every gangster behind Big Dogg instantly snapped their weapons to their shoulders, safety switches clicking off in unison. Scott's three suit-clad guards reacted just as quickly, raising their customized sidearms and locking their sights onto Big Dogg and his front-line men.
The air inside the dusty factory stretched tight, ready to snap.
Big Dogg didn't even flinch. He just smiled smoothly. "I never called *you* a fraud, Scott. This reaction of yours just proves my point. You're not smart enough to be a fraud—you're just a reliable weapon that Vane's CEO knows how to swing."
Big Dogg clicked his tongue twice with an infuriating smirk. *Tsk. Tsk.*
"You just don't have the brains to run the game."
That was the absolute limit. Scott's finger twitched against the trigger.He failed to notice that the crimson laser dot on his forehead had vanished a second earlier. The sniper perched in the high rafters wasn't aiming at Scott's skull—he was watching his hands.
Nearly two hundred meters away...
A sniper watching through his scope saw Scott's finger twitch.
The sniper reacted first.
Two suppressed shots rang out almost simultaneously.
**Pfft!**
**Pfft!**
Only then—
Scott pulled the trigger.
Two high-caliber rounds slammed into the top receiver of Scott's P-14 submachine gun. The weapon detonated violently in his grip, the pressurized chamber shattering in a burst of sparks and blistering heat. The reinforced frame held together just enough to spare his fingers, but the searing flash cooked the skin of his palm.
Scott let out a muffled snarl of pain, dropping the ruined metal frame onto the concrete.
Big Dogg chuckled softly, taking another long, unbothered drag from his cigar.
Hearing that heavy, mocking chuckle broke the last thread of Scott's military discipline. Blinded by rage, Scott lunged forward across the metal worktable, sweeping his fists toward the fat man's throat.
"Stand down," Big Dogg barked lazily to his guards, holding up a palm.
As Scott closed the distance, he threw a rapid sequence of hard tactical jabs directly into Big Dogg's stomach.
*TAP! TAP! TAP!*
Big Dogg didn't even budge. He looked down at Scott's fists striking his midsection as if a child were tapping on his coat. Slowly, he removed the cigar from his mouth and exhaled a thick, blinding cloud of harsh gray smoke straight into Scott's face.
Scott flinched, reflexively raising his forearms to shield his eyes.
That single second of obstructed vision was all Big Dogg needed.
Despite his massive girth, Big Dogg moved with terrifying, explosive speed. He stepped into Scott's guard, grabbed him by his lapels, and executed a heavy judo hip-throw. He didn't just throw Scott—he drove his own heavy frame down with him, using his full body weight to crush Scott against the concrete floor.
*BOOM!*
The impact drove the air entirely out of Scott's lungs. Before the disorientation could clear, Big Dogg effortlessly rolled back onto his feet, using his momentum to throw a brutal, sweeping kick straight at Scott's exposed ribs.
Scott's veteran combat instincts saved him. He ignored the pain in his chest, threw himself into a lateral roll across the dusty floor, and sprang back up into a low fighting stance.
Sensing no time to reset, Scott charged again, throwing a lightning-fast right cross. Big Dogg caught Scott's right wrist cleanly in his left palm. Scott instantly snapped a brutal left hook toward Big Dogg's temple—and Big Dogg caught his left wrist with his right hand.
Holding both of Scott's arms pinned in mid-air, Big Dogg slammed his forehead forward in a vicious headbutt.
*CLACK!*
Scott's head snapped back. He stumbled backward two steps, warm blood immediately pouring from his crushed nose.
Big Dogg brought his hand up, looking down at his crushed cigar. The tip had been flattened between his fingers during the struggle. He shook his head with a disappointed sigh. "Well... at least you managed to ruin my smoke. It'd be a shame if I was the only one doing the hurting today."
Scott wiped the blood from his lip, his eyes burning with pure fury. He couldn't remember the last time someone had manhandled him like this. He dropped low, faking a sweeping leg kick.
Big Dogg, too lazy to jump, simply took a single step back and lifted his front boot, letting Scott's leg sweep harmlessly beneath him. Scott immediately drove upward, driving a straight punch toward the fat man's chest. Big Dogg trapped the punch under his forearm, snapped his wrist forward, and slammed the still-glowing cherry of the ruined cigar directly into the side of Scott's neck.
"AAAARGH!" Scott screamed as his flesh sizzled.
Before he could recover, Big Dogg drove a devastating knee straight into Scott's exposed solar plexus. As Scott doubled over, wheezing for air, Big Dogg hooked his back ankle, sweeping Scott off his feet once again.
*CRASH!*
Scott hit the concrete hard, Dust exploded around him.
He rolled several times before stopping.
rolling over as a cloud of gray industrial dust coated his black tailored suit. When he looked down, his expensive suit had turned gray with dirt. He spat a mouthful of dark red blood onto the ground, gasping for breath. The military-grade training he prided himself on felt completely useless.
Heh-heh-heh..." Big Dogg chuckled, dusting off his lapels. "What? Did you think you were the only veteran in the room, Scott? I served eight years in the special infantry before I went private."
Scott groaned, his hand slipping inside his ruined jacket. He clutched his abdomen with a grimace, squirming on the floor as if massaging the massive bruise where Big Dogg's knee had struck him.
Big Dogg shook his head, amused by the sight. "Look at you. Pathetic."
Scott's eyes suddenly went ice-cold.
In a movement so blindingly fast it defied his injuries, Scott pulled a compact, silenced secondary pistol from an armpit holster, aimed straight toward the shadowy darkness of the upper catwalks, and pulled the trigger twice.
"
*PFFFT! PFFFT!*
A brief silence hung in the air—followed instantly by a heavy, wet crash.
*THUD!*
A high-caliber sniper rifle slammed onto the concrete floor, followed immediately by the shattered body of Big Dogg's hidden marksman.
With his suppressed pistol still raised toward the rafter, Scott slowly pulled himself up, wiping the blood from his chin with his sleeve. A cold, menacing smile broke across his face.
"Those targeting lights of his were giving me a headache," Scott rasped, his voice raw. "I just had to eliminate the distraction first."
Big Dogg's cheerful expression vanished instantly. His eyes narrowed into dark, murderous slits.
"You just drew first blood, suit," Big Dogg whispered.
Before the last word cleared his lips—
*THWACK!*
A suppressed round tore through the central bay from an unseen angle. One of the two operatives standing behind Scott collapsed instantly, a clean bullet hole drilled through his forehead as blood pooled onto the concrete.
Scott's eyes turned blood-red. The time for corporate negotiations was over.
"KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!" Scott roared, raising his pistol and aiming directly between Big Dogg's eyes.
Every weapon in the compound was raised at once.
The next second...
The factory erupted into chaos.