Ganjo’s office was a cramped space carved out of the factory's decaying infrastructure. Buzzing with a low thrum, an overworked air conditioner cooled him off. The room smelled of stale sweat and cheap cologne, sinking itself into Ganjo's skin like a second layer. Stacks of cash, meticulously organized, lined the desk. The worn canvas of the duffle bags were gaped open, awaiting their illicit cargo.

Ganjo methodically counted the bills, his fingers a blur of motion. As he jotted down amounts on a form, a knock boomed through the office. It interrupted his tranquil space.

He turned towards the door, his gaze piercing through the glass looking out into the gym floor. Mariah stood before it. She seemed nervous. Ganjo motioned for her to enter.

"What is it, Mariah?"

Mariah fidgeted, her fingers twisting a loose strand of hair.

"There's a lady here to see you…Veronica Guzman. She looks very... official."

He did not recognize the name, but Mariah’s demeanor struck an uneasy chord with him. Rising from his chair, he approached the door, his movements surprisingly fluid for a man of his size. He stepped out of the office with Mariah, carefully closing the door behind him, as if to hide the illicit contents within.

"Let her in,” Ganjo instructed.

A few seconds later, an average-height woman, pale skin and short hair, walked in, dressed in a sharp, corporate suit. She was alone, but her aura was extremely intimidating. Mariah, her nerves frayed, quickly departed, leaving Ganjo alone with the unexpected visitor.

Ganjo extended a hand with a carefully constructed facade.

"Gant Joseph, at your service, Ms. Guzman. Forgive my attire. I'm not used to such distinguished guests during the early part of the day."

Veronica returned his greeting with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Joseph. I prefer more casual settings. The gym is a form of escape for me."

Ganjo's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in her toned physique and the subtle flex of her legs as she gestured.

"Is that so? Perhaps you're interested in signing up? We do have the largest facility in the region."

Veronica politely smiled.

"If I didn't live in Uraan, I would."

She continued. She was smooth and measured.

“I've heard positive things about this facility, and about you."

Ganjo's curiosity piqued, but a sense of unease settled in his gut. A visitor from Uraan, especially one who seemed so familiar with his operation, was not a common occurrence.

"Well then, how may I help you? It’s not often we get visitors from the great city."

Veronica's gaze swept across the dimly lit arena, taking in the worn canvas of the ring, and the scattered benches.

"I was told about all the great work you've done throughout the years,"

Her voice was a soft purr.

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"Aiding my employers."

Ganjo's suspicion deepened. He leaned back slightly, his arms crossed over his massive chest.

"And who exactly are your employers?"

Veronica's smile vanished, replaced by a steely gaze that pierced through Ganjo.

"My employers were, or are, supporters of the late Oliver Nader.”

Her statement was a cold wind that cut through the air like a knife.

Ganjo's polite facade crumbled, replaced by a raw, animalistic intensity.

"Who sent you?"

Veronica met his aggressive expression, her confidence unwavering. Ganjo sensed a dangerous energy emanating from her, a coiled spring ready to unleash its fury. He realized that she would dare to physically challenge him if it came to it. But he wasn't looking for a fight, and by her measured tone, neither was she.

"You're safe, Mr. Joseph,” Veronica assured him. For now, at least."

She paused, her eyes analyzing his gestures.

"I didn't come here to startle you, but to ask for your assistance."

Ganjo's brow tensed, a mix of confusion and suspicion clouding his face.

"I'm just a gym owner."

Veronica formed a sardonic smile.

"Oh, you're definitely a gym owner."

The irony of it all was evident to her.

"Owner of a gym funded by intelligence operations."

She paused, letting the her words sink in.

"Alonso Gijon and his father really helped you out of a lifetime of dirty jobs for the Dasa Vech. And look at you now. You went from hired muscle to one of the most influential negotiators on this continent."

Ganjo's demeanor shifted. He was instantly on guard, the playful banter replaced by a calculated awareness.

"Who are you?"

Veronica smiled.

"You're a smart man, Mr. Joseph. You should know what I represent. I doubt you’d be clueless. You made your name as an informant for us."

Ganjo's grip tightened, his knuckles turning white.

"I'm no longer that person. Whatever fight you had going on in Synoro, you lost. Oliver’s dead, and so is whatever leverage I had."

Veronica stepped closer, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. The space between them shrank.

"If Oliver is dead, it's thanks in part to you."

Ganjo shrugged.

"Well, I never had any power. I was just an informant. When shit hit the fan, I made the most logical decision. Oliver, Martin, Alonso, and everyone on whatever side you represent were caught off guard by their own men. And frankly, Hadic is much more competent at this fight than your people ever were."

Veronica stepped back.

"Ganjo, the only reason you're still breathing is because you have something the Dasa Vech deems important."

Her voice was cold and calculated.

"I have an idea of what it could be. And if Ves Malmo knew the whole truth about what you did, it would cancel whatever you’re offering him."

Ganjo's jaw clenched. His voice reverberated through the gym.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes,” Veronica responded. She was blunt and unwavering.

Commanding Ganjo, she continued.

“Ganjo, let’s get this straight. Starting now, you work for me."

Ganjo retorted with defiance.

"You and what army."

Veronica countered.

"You’d think Oliver Nader would not have planned for this exact scenario?"

Ganjo spat back.

"If he did, we wouldn't be having this-"

Veronica cut him off.

"It would have been the outbreak of total war. The battle has been waged in the shadows for generations, and it will not change now. Those were orders given to Oliver, and he obeyed."

She turned to leave, her heels clicking against the concrete floor.

"You have 72 hours to provide me with something we can use against Hadic."

She paused, turning back to face him.

"We're giving you a chance to take control of your life, Ganjo. Don't squander an opportunity. You can play ball and reap the benefits, or you can risk finding yourself like some of your clients... liquidated."

Veronica turned again, her silhouette a dark shadow against the lights.

"We have other options," she said as she walked away. "We just like you the most."