The morning sun filtered through the dusty skylights of our warehouse in The Bronx.
I sat at my desk, pressing an ice pack against my swollen left eye. My glasses were held together by duct tape. I looked like a victim of domestic violence. But my employees looked worse.
Daniel was wearing silk pajamas (because he refused to wear his ruined polyester suit). Gara was covered in grease. Niko looked like a street thug in a stained hoodie. And Benny... Benny was shirtless, eating a block of cheddar cheese like it was an apple.
"This is unacceptable," I announced, slamming my laptop shut.
The team jumped.
"We just acquired the largest territory in The Bronx," I said. "We are now a conglomerate. We cannot look like a group of homeless vagrants."
I kicked a box of new uniforms toward them. "Put them on. Black Polos for operations. Navy Blazers for meetings."
While they changed, I addressed the elephant in the room.
"We need a name," I said. "The name 'Aegis' is too soft. It sounds like a hedge fund. In the underground market, we need a name with a High Intimidation Factor."
"How about 'Death Squad'?" Niko suggested, sharpening his knife.
"Too generic," I shook my head. "Sounds like a teenage metal band."
"'Golden Kings'!" Daniel piped up, adjusting his silk collar. "It sounds regal! Luxurious! Like we own a casino!"
"Too tacky," I sighed. "We aren't a boy band, Daniel."
I looked over at Benny. The giant was sitting on a crate, happily drawing with a black marker on a cardboard box. I walked over to look.
He had drawn a simple, crude skull. Behind it was a geometric cross.
"Benny," I asked. "What is that?"
"Skull," Benny pointed. "Cross."
I looked at the drawing. It was brutal. Simple. Instantly recognizable.
"Simple. Easy to identify. Good logo," I nodded. "Decided. The trading name is: Skull Cross."
"Skull Cross?" Daniel protested. "It sounds like a bicycle gang! It’s so... blue-collar!"
"Quiet," I ordered. "Aegis will be the Parent Company (Holding). Skull Cross is the Subsidiary for field operations. It's a corporate structure, Daniel. Learn it."
I picked up a metal stencil plate I had cut earlier and a can of black spray paint. I walked to the main wall of the warehouse, right next to the entrance.
HISS-SHHHH.
The smell of aerosol paint filled the air. I stepped back. The black skull and cross stood out starkly against the concrete.
"Asset tagged," I whispered. "This territory is ours."
Scene 2: The Regulatory Audit
WHEEP-WHEEP!
A siren blared right outside the warehouse door. Red and blue lights flashed through the windows.
The team froze.
"Police!" Daniel shrieked, his face draining of all color. "Oh god! Life imprisonment! Daddy, save me!" He scrambled behind Benny, using the giant as a human shield, clutching Benny's massive arm like a toddler.
Gara looked sick, frantically wiping his greasy hands on his pants. "The Cadillac... the VIN number hasn't been punched yet! It's still hot! They're gonna impound my baby! I can't go back to riding the bus!"
Benny didn't move. He stood like a statue, staring intensely at the door. Or rather, at what was coming through the door.
Niko went cold. His hand drifted to the small of his back, gripping the handle of his knife. He leaned into my ear.
"Boss," Niko whispered, his voice deadly calm. "I can 'liquidate' the fat one. One slice to the carotid. Clean. Silent. No witnesses."
"Stand down!" I ordered sharply. "He is a Regulatory Body. Killing a cop creates Systemic Risk. It brings the FBI. We handle this the corporate way."
The warehouse door rolled up.
Chief of Police Mulligan "The Mustache" stepped in.
He was a sphere of a man, his uniform straining against a gut built on decades of corruption. His thick, gray mustache was dusted with white powdered sugar. He held a half-eaten jelly donut in one hand and a baton in the other. His face was red, a mix of high blood pressure and greed.
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Benny’s eyes locked onto the donut. He tracked its movement with predatory focus.
Scene 3: Licensing Fee
"Well, well," Mulligan chewed loudly, crumbs falling onto his shirt. "I heard Giovanni’s turned into a slaughterhouse last night. And this morning, I heard whispers about a new operation in my district."
Two junior officers stood behind him, hands on their holsters.
"Who's in charge of this... dump?" Mulligan burped.
I stepped forward, wearing my new navy blazer. My taped glasses made me look pathetic, but my posture was rigid.
"Good morning, Chief Mulligan," I said. "I am Solomon Gats. CEO of Skull Cross Security Solutions."
"Security Solutions?" Mulligan laughed, a wet, wheezing sound. "Is that what we're calling it? I see guns. I see cash. I see a connection to the Tommy murder."
He stepped closer, smelling of stale coffee and sugar. "I could arrest you all. Racketeering. Murder. The paperwork alone would bury you for life."
"Bureaucracy is expensive," I agreed calmly. "It wastes time. It wastes resources."
I walked to my desk and picked up a briefcase. I placed it on a crate. Click.
Inside were neat stacks of cash. $50,000.
"This is the initial Licensing Fee," I said. "To ensure our paperwork is... prioritized."
Mulligan stopped chewing. His piggy eyes widened.
"And," I added another stack—$20,000—on top. "This is for the 'Environmental Protection Fund'. To ensure your patrols don't accidentally disrupt our logistics."
Mulligan looked at the money. Then he looked at me. A greedy smile split his face.
"Skull Cross, huh?" Mulligan chuckled, snapping the briefcase shut. "I like the name. Sounds professional. Much better than Tommy. Tommy was cheap."
He turned to leave, tucking the briefcase under his arm.
"Welcome to The Bronx, Mr. Gats. Keep the noise down. And remember... the licensing fee is due monthly."
As he walked out, he tossed the half-eaten donut into a trash can.
Benny let out a small, heartbreaking whimper.
Scene 4: Market Whispers
Meanwhile, in a private VIP lounge in Manhattan.
The room was dark. Three figures sat in the shadows.
"The Gut is dead," a raspy voice spoke. Mr. X. "Wiped out in a single night. Twelve men. Gone."
"Who did it?" Madame Y asked, lighting a slim cigarette. "The police?"
"No," Mr. X poured a vodka. "A new group. Skull Cross."
"Skull Cross?" Mr. Z scoffed, tapping his gold ring. "Sounds like a child's video game. Who leads them?"
"That’s the strange part," Mr. X whispered. "Intel says he’s not a gangster. He dresses like a banker. He speaks like a lawyer. And he executed Tommy with a single shot to the head."
"A businessman who kills?" Mr Y exhaled smoke. "Dangerous."
"They call him The Auditor," Mr. X said. "Because when he shows up... your books are closed."
Mr. Z stopped tapping. "The Auditor... Keep an eye on The Bronx. I don't like Auditors."
Scene 5: Corporate Vision
Back at the warehouse, the tension broke as the police cruiser drove away.
"We're alive!" Daniel collapsed onto a sofa. He looked down at his new navy blazer and frowned, picking at the lapel.
"I hate this," Daniel whined. "Look at me! I don't look like a stylish gangster. I look like I'm about to sell you term life insurance! Or a used Honda Civic! It has no soul, Solomon! No pizzazz!"
"It has professionalism," I countered. "And it makes you invisible to the police. Gangsters wear gold chains. Businessmen wear blazers."
While Gara went to buy donuts for Benny, the team settled down. I watched them, but for the first time, I looked past the surface. I saw their ambitions.
Daniel was staring at his reflection in the window, adjusting his blazer.
Internal Monologue (Daniel): "Just wait. Just wait until I show up at the Hamptons summer party. I won't ask Dad for money. I'll pull up in a matte black Aston Martin. I'll throw a stack of cash on the table and say, 'Keep the change, old man.' He won't call me a failure then. He'll have to respect the CFO of Skull Cross."
Niko was running his tongue over his new Zirconia tooth. He tapped it with his fingernail. Click.
Internal Monologue (Niko): "Zirconia is strong. But it's not enough. Why stop at one? If this 'Auditor' keeps paying out dividends... maybe I will replace the whole set. Diamond-encrusted canines. Tungsten molars. I want a smile that can bite through a car door. I want to be the sharpest weapon in the inventory."
Gara was on his phone, scrolling through an auction for a supercharger engine.
Internal Monologue (Gara): "Forget the Cadillac. I'm thinking bigger. Armored transport. Maybe a surplus Humvee. Or a tank. Yeah, a tank with neon underglow. If I stick with Solomon, I won't just be a mechanic. I'll be the Chief Engineer of a war machine."
And Benny? Benny was lifting a massive engine block, doing bicep curls as if it weighed nothing.
Internal Monologue (Benny): "Heavy. Good. But rust... bad. Need shiny weights. Gold weights. Platinum dumbbells. Strong things for strong Benny."
Scene 6: The Chairman's Outlook
I turned away from them and walked to the large map of New York on the wall.
I picked up a red marker and circled The Bronx.
My hand hovered over the map. I felt a strange sensation in my chest. It wasn't fear. It wasn't the anxiety of debt.
It was... Ownership.
For five years, I had been a cog in a machine. I managed other people's money. I saved other people's companies. I was a servant to the Board of Directors.
But now?
I looked at the black Skull Cross logo I had painted on the wall.
Internal Monologue (Solomon): "I control this district. Every illegal bet, every shipment, every protection racket... it all flows through my ledger. I am no longer an employee. I am the Chairman of the Board. The Market Cap of The Bronx is $50 million annually. And I intend to capture 100% of the market share."
I felt a cold thrill run down my spine. The adrenaline of the gunfight was addictive, but the adrenaline of Power? That was intoxicating.
I wrote three words on the whiteboard next to the map: MANHATTAN. QUEENS. BROOKLYN.
"The Bronx is just the incubator," I whispered to the empty air. "Our IPO is just beginning."
"Benny," I called out.
"Yes, Boss?" Benny asked, putting down the engine block.
"Eat your donuts. We have work to do."
Skull Cross was open for business.
End of Chapter 17.
The Bronx has been tagged. Skull Cross is officially open for business.
This chapter marks the transition from a group of survivors to a structured organization. Solomon isn't just playing a game; he’s building a monopoly.
[Board of Directors Notice] As we approach Chapter 20, I am preparing to open the "Board of Directors" portal (Patreon). This will be an exclusive space for those who wish to invest early in the Skull Cross expansion and gain access to Classified Intel (Advanced Chapters) before the general market.
The higher your seat, the deeper the secrets you'll uncover.
[Audit Report - Your Feedback Needed] A corporation is only as strong as its stakeholders. I’d love to hear your thoughts on our current trajectory:
- The Rebranding: What do you think of the "Skull Cross" logo and its presence in this chapter?
- The Assets: Which member of the team are you betting on to become Solomon’s most valuable asset?
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