Time: 7:00 AM. The Lobby of The Exchange.
The sun was shining brightly over New York, but inside The Exchange, the morning light revealed the ugly scars of the night before. It wasn't just dirty; it was devastated. The grand marble pillars were chipped by stray bullets. The crystal chandelier, usually the pride of the hall, was missing several strands, swinging slightly like a broken pendulum. The air no longer smelled of gunpowder; it was a nauseating cocktail of industrial bleach, lemon detergent, and the lingering, metallic tang of dried blood that refused to leave the air vents.
Daniel stood in the center of the hall, clutching a tablet like a shield. He was wearing his backup suit, but his eyes were glued to the floor with an expression of pure agony.
"No, no, no!" Daniel groaned, pointing a manicured finger at a dark, stubborn stain on the Persian rug. "That is a Type-O bloodstain! It's coagulated! Use the alkaline solution, not the acid! Do you know how much this rug costs? It's $5,000 per square meter! If you ruin the fabric, I’m deducting it from your cleaning fee!"
He looked down at his own feet. His limited edition Italian leather loafers ($1,200) were caked in dried mud and crusty blood. He looked like he was about to cry. "My shoes..." he whimpered, touching the ruined leather. "I only wore them twice. They are ruined. I have to list them under 'Extraordinary Losses' in the Q1 report along with the broken windows."
Nearby, Niko was sitting on a crate, a nurse bandaging a deep cut on his arm. He smirked, watching Daniel mourn his footwear. "Funny," Niko said, wincing as the alcohol touched his wound. "Last night I saw 'Bulldozer Daniel' smashing people's ribs and screaming like a banshee. Where did that guy go? Did he clock out?"
Gara walked by, sipping a black coffee, his face smeared with grease and soot. "The 'Warrior Software' was just a trial version, Niko," Gara laughed, kicking a spent shell casing across the floor. "He's back to 'Princess CFO' settings now. Reboot complete."
Daniel turned red. "Shut up! Appearance is part of branding! We are a respectable organization now! We can't look like a slaughterhouse!"
Scene 2: The Breakfast of Monsters
Location: The Makeshift Canteen.
In the corner, Benny was slumped over a table. In front of him were five empty bowls of beef stew and a pile of bread. He was eating with a mechanical rhythm, his eyes half-closed. He was dangerously low on calories after expending massive amounts of energy tanking the enemy line.
Solomon walked through the canteen to inspect the troops.
At another table sat the Twins. Raphaela was perched on a stack of ammo crates. She was shoving a honey-glazed pancake into her mouth. Sugar powder coated her lips and cheeks. When Solomon walked by, she stopped chewing. Her eyes went wide—bulging slightly—fixed on his back. She looked like a feral cat spotting a canary.
"Mmph..." she mumbled through the food, her eyes dilating. "The Boss looks... expensive today. I wonder if he tastes like gold if I bite him..."
Next to her, Luciela was calm. She was using a $500 Hermes silk scarf to wipe a speck of dried blood from the lace cuff of her maid dress. She heard her sister, looked at Solomon, and narrowed her eyes. Her gaze was cold, possessive, and dangerous.
"Control yourself, sister," Luciela whispered, her voice barely audible. "That is the Safe. We are the Locks. No one touches the Safe. Not even us. We just... keep it."
They both stared at him until he disappeared into his office, an aura of terrifying adoration surrounding them.
Scene 3: Maintenance of Strategic Assets (The Mamas)
Location: Solomon’s Office.
Solomon sat behind his desk. The adrenaline of the night had faded, replaced by the weight of administration.
Cara and Moon were there. Solomon was signing a stack of checks.
"Cara, execute the transfers," Solomon said, handing her the stack. "$50,000 for each family of the deceased mercenaries. Full medical coverage for the wounded. Lifetime pensions for the permanently disabled."
Cara took the checks. She looked at the numbers and frowned, her practical nature kicking in. "Solomon," she said bluntly. "This is five times the industry standard. We are burning through the liquidity we just acquired from Valenti. It’s bad math. We will be in the red for two months."
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Solomon looked up. "It’s Strategic Maintenance, Cara. A soldier only fights to the death if he knows his family won't starve. I am not buying their lives; I am buying their peace of mind. That is the strongest loyalty. It lowers the turnover rate."
Cara sighed, but her eyes softened. She walked around the desk. She reached out and straightened Solomon’s tie, her fingers lingering for a moment on his collar. She brushed a speck of dust from his shoulder with a firm, almost aggressive care. "Fine. You spend the money, I'll find a way to earn it back," she grumbled, hiding her admiration. "Just... don't get blood on this suit again. Dry cleaning is expensive."
Moon stepped forward. She didn't talk about money. She placed a cup of hot herbal tea on his desk—his favorite blend. She moved behind him, her hands gently resting on his tense shoulders, massaging them lightly. "You carried the weight of 500 lives last night, Solomon," Moon whispered, her voice like velvet. "The books are balanced. The men are paid. Now, breathe." She leaned down, her cheek almost touching his hair, a subtle gesture of intimacy and relief that he was alive. "You did good, Boss. You did good."
Solomon closed his eyes for a second, allowing himself to feel their support. "Thank you," he said quietly. Then he opened his eyes. "Back to work."
Scene 4: Bad Inventory Liquidation (The Sorting)
Location: The Backlot.
Outside, the atmosphere was tense. 200 prisoners from Valenti’s army were kneeling on the wet concrete, hands zip-tied behind their backs.
They were a mixed bag of desperation. Some were crying, terrified of the rumors about the "Skull Cross Monsters." Some were fawning, trying to make eye contact with Niko. "Hey! Sir! I can drive! I know all the routes in Jersey! I'm useful! Please hire me!"
And then, there were the Hardliners. A group of about ten men, heavily tattooed, glared at the Skull Cross guards with pure hatred. They weren't broken. They were just waiting for a chance.
Benny walked up and down the line, chewing on a large sandwich. He looked sleepy, but his presence was massive. Niko held the clipboard. "Occupation?" he asked a trembling man. "Accountant... junior level..." "Keep him. Left side," Niko pointed. "Reusable Asset."
Suddenly, one of the Hardliners—a large man with a scar across his face—spat on Niko's shoe. "Screw you, traitor!" the man yelled. He lunged forward, snapping his zip-ties with brute force. He grabbed a stone from the ground, aiming for Niko’s head. "I'll kill you!"
Niko didn't even flinch. He didn't have to.
Benny moved. Despite holding a sandwich in his left hand, Benny stepped in. He didn't punch. He caught the attacker's arm mid-swing. With a bored expression, Benny applied a Kimura Lock (MMA Technique). He twisted. CRACK. The sound of the shoulder joint snapping echoed across the lot. The man screamed and fell to his knees.
Benny didn't drop his sandwich. He looked down at the screaming man with annoyance. "I am eating," Benny grunted. "You are loud. And rude."
He kicked the man into the "Toxic Waste" pile. "Disposal pile," Benny said to Niko, then took another bite of his sandwich. "Next."
The rest of the prisoners went deathly silent. The fawning ones fawned harder. The hardliners looked down, their defiance crushed by the sound of that snapping bone.
Solomon watched from the window. He dialed a number. "Mulligan "The Mustache"? It's Solomon. I have a gift for you. 100 high-priority criminals tied up at the docks. Come get your medal."
Scene 5: The Light Bulb Invoice
The door to the office burst open. Gara rushed in, holding a burnt-out strobe light bulb. He looked frantic.
"Boss! We have a crisis!" Gara yelled. "The strobe lights! They all burned out! Do you know how much Xenon bulbs cost? I had to dip into the car modification fund! My budget is blown!"
Solomon rubbed his temples. "Gara... should I deduct the fuel costs for your little 'drift show' last night?"
Gara froze. "Uh... well... it was for tactical distraction..."
Solomon opened a drawer and tossed a thick stack of cash onto the desk. "Take it. Buy the best bulbs you can find. Next time, I want them brighter."
Gara grabbed the money, grinning like a child. "Yes, Sir! You're the best! I'll make them brighter than the sun!"
Scene 6: The Hippos in the Mud
Time: 9:00 AM.
The office was finally quiet. Daniel walked in, holding a Starbucks cup. He looked refreshed, smelling of expensive cologne, the 'Battle Daniel' completely gone.
"Boss," Daniel said, sitting down. "We swallowed Valenti whole. Our assets have tripled. The Bronx is effectively ours." He paused, his expression turning serious. "But... the noise we made. It was too loud. The powers in Manhattan... they won't ignore this. The rumors are already spreading."
Solomon stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the skyline of New York City. The city looked peaceful, but he knew better.
"Valenti was just a hyena, Daniel. Loud, annoying, and scavenging for scraps," Solomon said softly.
Solomon adjusted his glasses. The crack in the lens caught the morning sun.
"The real powers... they are not hyenas," Solomon continued. "They are Hippos sleeping in the mud." "Hippos?" Daniel asked, confused. "Big. Silent. Heavy," Solomon explained. "They look slow. They look lazy. You don't even see them until you step into their water. But when a hippo opens its mouth, it snaps a crocodile in half with one bite."
He turned back to Daniel, his face unreadable. "We have poked the water. The hippos are waking up. We don't know their names yet, but we must be ready."
Solomon sat back down and pulled a fresh ledger towards him. "But before they get here... let's finish the tax report. I hate late filing penalties."
End of Chapter 38.
The war for the Bronx is won, but the "Cleaning Bill" is looking expensive. ???? > I hope you enjoyed the transition from "Battle Daniel" back to "Princess CFO Daniel." Sometimes, a bloodstain on a Persian rug is more painful than a bullet wound!
What was your favorite moment in this cleanup?
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A: Daniel mourning his $1,200 loafers.
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B: Benny’s "Kimura Sandwich" (MMA in a lunch break).
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C: The Twins’ creepy "Safe & Lock" loyalty.
The Hippos are waking up. The next arc will be bigger, deadlier, and more corporate. If you missed the brutal finale in Chapter 37, check it out before we move into Manhattan!
[Don't let the Hippos catch you. Join the Syndicate on Patreon!] ?? (25+ Advanced Chapters ahead. Invest in the future today!)
Drop a comment: Who do you think the first "Hippo" will be? A rival bank? A corrupt politician? Let's hear your theories! ??
The Exchange will be CLOSED tomorrow, Sunday, February 22nd, for Strategic Maintenance and Portfolio Restructuring. (Translation: Even the Accountant needs a day off to recharge the batteries!)
The market re-opens on Monday with the start of the MANHATTAN ARC. Get your suits ready—things are about to get corporate and bloody
Copyright ? 2026 by Gats VII. All rights reserved. This story is officially published only on Royal Road, Scribble Hub, and Patreon. If you are reading this elsewhere, it has been stolen.