From Bullets To Billions Chapter 664: The Senior Event

~4 minute read · 1,054 words
Previously on From Bullets To Billions...
Max returned to his office to find his inner circle lounging carelessly among the expensive furniture. Before he could address their mess, they revealed a more serious matter: Dud was back and seemed to be orchestrating attacks on their territory. While Max was initially concerned, his team, led by Wolf, insisted they could handle the threat themselves, much to Max's pride in their growth.

Forward came two elongated, rectangular boxes, presented by administrative personnel to Na and Darno. A shared befuddlement crossed the faces of both men, their eyebrows climbing skyward simultaneously. The reason for Max's generous gift, especially after they had already received a significant financial bonus for their successful operation against the Gilt Rats, was utterly beyond them.

As they simultaneously began to unwrap their presents, their eyes widened, catching the gleam of metal within.

'Wolf was indeed correct,' Max mused internally, a subtle, pleased smile gracing his lips as he observed their reactions. 'They truly appreciate the gesture. It's surprising, even Na seems moved; he's typically so inscrutable.'

"Damn, this is incredible!" Darno exclaimed, holding up the contents of his box. "Can I try it on right now? I want to see how it looks in the mirror."

"I would save it for special occasions," Max advised, his tone reasserting his leadership. "Those items signify your integration into the core of the Billion Bloodline group. You are no longer merely hired operatives or temporary allies. When you don them, you embody the Bloodline in its entirety, just like the rest of the inner circle. Your loyalty and value have been proven. Accepting this gift means accepting the associated responsibilities. Reserve them for when significant efforts are truly required."

The weight of his declaration was instantly grasped. The 'gift' represented far more than mere equipment; it was an emblem of rank. Both men nodded with solemnity.

"Well, you don't have to convince me twice," Darno declared, his characteristic swagger returning with a grin. "I've desired one of these since I first saw the others sporting them. It feels like a rite of passage."

Na, however, remained somewhat more reserved, his fingers gently stroking the fabric. "I already have my own Vow to uphold, but I shall accept this as well. It is an honor."

With this unspoken consensus, two new Rangers were formally elevated to the upper echelons of the organization. As for when they might publicly display their new affiliations, only the passage of time would reveal.

Max checked his watch. The hands were inexorably moving towards the evening's commencement, and he surmised that the other students were likely congregating for the senior-hosted event. He couldn't help but ponder the intentions of Donto for the unsuspecting freshmen.

The assembly was convened at an expansive, multi-tiered bowling complex situated on the periphery of the campus district. It was a renowned local establishment; while operating as a family-friendly alley by day, its transformation at night saw half the venue become a sophisticated nightclub, capable of hosting thousands.

Tonight, the facility was teeming with attendees. The event was orchestrated by a collective of senior students, predominantly from athletic departments—the soccer club, the judo team, and the rugby squad. These individuals perceived themselves as the reigning figures of the campus social strata. Although not every freshman had received an invitation, specific departments were targeted, leading to a turnout of approximately two hundred individuals.

Yovan and Talia proceeded towards the glowing neon entrance of the bowling alley, encountering a noticeably anxious Steve en route.

"Man, I guess not everyone is as worried as we are, right?" Steve inquired, indicating the streams of students passing by. Many freshmen wore wide smiles, drinks already in hand, their laughter echoing as they moved towards the pulsating music. For the majority, it was simply another anticipated party—an opportunity for social advancement. However, for those within the business department, having witnessed Sylan's ruthlessness, the atmosphere felt akin to a carefully laid trap.

"We should just stay together and be extremely cautious with our drinks," Yovan cautioned, her gaze sweeping the crowd for any sign of the soccer team. "We know these seniors have ulterior motives. Compelling attendance at an event like this suggests a significant plan in motion. I've heard whispers about what transpires at these 'mandatory' mixers."

"You're right," Talia added, her voice lowered. "For once, Yovan, I don't believe you're being excessively cautious. But it does make me wonder why only certain departments were extended invitations. If this were a typical 'welcome' gathering, wouldn't it be open to all first-year students?"

No one possessed an answer. Upon finally entering the complex, their apprehension only intensified. The senior athletes were strategically positioned throughout the venue, observing the new arrivals with keen intensity. Standing out conspicuously among them was Donto Stern. He was leaning against the bar, clad in a black leather jacket that lent him the air of a professional model or a high-ranking syndicate heir—which, in a sense, he truly was. Even those unaffiliated with the university recognized the name Donto.Upon their arrival, every freshman was presented with a small, sealed black bag. The upperclassmen distributing them were insistent: the packages were not to be opened until the 'signal' was given, lest the event's surprise be compromised. This directive carried an unspoken menace. A few inquisitive freshmen attempted to glimpse the contents of their bags, only to have their hands swiftly seized by watchful seniors who, with chilling gazes, reiterated the importance of patience. Notwithstanding the palpable undercurrent of apprehension, the atmosphere was reminiscent of a typical party. Revelers were indulging in drinks, music pulsed through the venue, and clusters of guests congregated around card tables or bowling alleys. The trio of business students remained in close proximity, their gazes frequently scanning their surroundings. They had been diligently inspecting each other's beverages for any signs of adulteration and fending off overly enthusiastic seniors and fellow freshmen. Abruptly, an individual with unkempt black hair and a rough demeanor approached their tight-knit group. He bore no resemblance to a senior, nor did he fit the mold of an ordinary student. With a slight bow, his hands concealed within his pockets, he addressed them. "You three are part of the business department, correct?" the man inquired. "I was merely inquiring if you happened to notice a specific student. I had hoped to encounter him today. His name is Max?" The group regarded the stranger with bewilderment. They pondered his identity and the reason for his fervent search for an individual who, by all accounts, should have been recuperating in a hospital.