The Janitor Who Was A Killer

Vardan fought with the gang's guards, who brandished knives and other weapons. His movements were fluid and precise, dodging every strike with ease. He didn't show any signs of hesitation or fear, moving like a seasoned warrior, landing blows that disarmed and knocked out the guards one after another. Mia, hiding in the shadows, watched in awe. She had always known Vardan was strong, but this—this was on another level. His control over his body, the martial arts techniques he employed, were flawless. It was like watching a master at work.

In no time, all the guards were down, leaving only the gang leader standing. The leader, visibly impressed by Vardan's skill, leaned against a nearby crate and clapped slowly. "I didn't expect you to defeat all my men, especially with weapons in their hands." He smirked. "You've got talent. How about joining me? I could use someone like you."

Vardan's expression remained neutral. "I'm not interested," he said coldly, refusing the offer.

The leader's smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. He gave a signal, and without warning, a figure leaped into the fray—fast, silent, and dangerous. The man stood across from Vardan, sizing him up with a cold, calculating stare.

The gang leader grinned. "Take care of him. Show him why you're the best."

Vardan locked eyes with the mysterious fighter, and without waiting for the order, the man charged. The difference in speed was immediately apparent. The new opponent moved with blinding quickness, easily dodging Vardan's counterattacks. Each strike that Vardan attempted seemed to miss by mere inches.

Mia, still hidden, watched in disbelief. The fight was on a completely different level now. Vardan was no longer in control, and the opponent seemed to be holding back, playing with him.

Vardan managed to land a few blows, but they had little effect. The mysterious man was far faster and more experienced. Vardan's energy was draining fast, his movements becoming sluggish compared to his opponent's precision. But the man wasn't unscathed either. He too was breathing heavily, each strike from Vardan taking a toll.

The gang leader, sensing his fighter was on the brink of losing, grew anxious. He pulled a gun from his waistband, pointing it at Vardan, ready to pull the trigger if his fighter failed.

But just as the mysterious man rushed toward Vardan, his phone rang. The man paused, glancing at the screen, and then, without a word, answered it.

Vardan used the moment to catch his breath. The man finished his call, then immediately turned and charged toward the gang leader.

The leader's eyes widened in panic as the man reached him in the blink of an eye, grabbed his wrist, and easily twisted the gun from his hand.

"What the hell?" The leader stammered, confused and terrified.

The man's voice was calm, almost cold. "The boss wants you dead." He raised the gun, and without another word, fired.

The gang leader collapsed, lifeless.

Mia, watching from a distance, gasped. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks—this man was part of the organization. She had heard the whispers before, but now she knew for sure.

The man, now holding the gun, turned to Vardan, his eyes studying him carefully. "You're strong. I didn't expect that from you."

Vardan stared at the man, still processing what had just happened. "Who are you?"

The man gave a slight smile, then pulled a black card from his coat and handed it to Vardan. "My name is Oliver. A-rank killer. If you want to join the organization, just call me."

Vardan took the card, his heart pounding in his chest.

Oliver gave him a final nod before walking away, disappearing into the shadows.

Vardan stood alone in the warehouse, the weight of the card heavy in his hand. This was what he had been waiting for—he had finally caught the attention of the organization.