Chapter 9: Recruitment and a Bait

Logan sat in a dimly lit corner of a rundown bar, nursing a drink and scanning the room. The establishment reeked of stale alcohol and sweat, its patrons either drowning in their sorrows or celebrating small victories. For Logan, it was just another spot to gather intel. The noise, the chatter, the hidden deals in the shadows—it was all part of the game.

He wasn't surprised when a man approached him, his steps measured and confident. Dressed in a crisp leather jacket and exuding an air of authority, Logan knew this was no ordinary barfly based on his aura. The man slid into the seat across from him without an invitation, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"Logan Holt," the man said, his voice smooth and self-assured. "I've heard a lot about you."

Logan raised an eyebrow but remained silent, taking a slow sip from his glass.

"I'm James blanc" the man continued, leaning back in his chair. "Head of security for the Valdez cartel."

Logan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave no other reaction. James smirked, clearly enjoying the moment.

"You've been making waves, kid. Capturing Tier F bounties, protecting convoys, even taking out high-profile targets without leaving a trace. The underworld is buzzing about you."

Logan finally spoke, his tone calm but edged with suspicion. "What do you want?"

James chuckled. "Straight to the point. I like that. Here's the deal—we want you on our side. Emilio Valdez himself sent me to recruit you."

Logan leaned back, his expression neutral. "The Valdez cartel, huh? Aren't you guys having a bit of a rough time lately? Losing warehouses, getting hit left and right. Doesn't exactly scream stability."

James's grin faltered for a moment before he recovered. "Temporary setbacks. Nothing we can't handle. The Valdez cartel is still one of the most powerful organizations out there. And with someone like you on our team, we'll be untouchable."

Logan smirked faintly. "Flattering, but I'm doing just fine on my own."

James leaned forward, his tone shifting to something more persuasive. "Think about it. You'd have access to resources, protection, and connections that you could only dream of as a freelancer. Emilio Valdez takes care of his people. And let's not forget the opportunities—you'd be working alongside some of the best in the business."

Logan didn't respond immediately, letting the silence stretch as he appeared to consider James's words. In truth, he'd already decided to infiltrate the Valdez cartel, but he wasn't about to make it easy for them.

James, sensing he needed a stronger push, leaned back and signaled to someone outside the bar. A moment later, a man removed the tarp revealing a sleek black Honda NX650 Dominator parked right outside the bar, its matte finish gleaming even under the streetpole poor lighting. It was a thing of beauty, customized to perfection with reinforced plating, all-terrain tires, and a few subtle modifications that hinted at speed and durability.

"This," James said with a grin, "is a gift. Courtesy of Emilio Valdez. A little incentive to show you we mean business."

Logan's eyes flicked to the bike, his expression unreadable. Inside, though, he was impressed. The Dominator was the kind of machine that could handle both city streets and rough terrain—a perfect fit for his line of work. The modifications made it even more appealing, and Logan knew it wasn't just a flashy gesture. It was a calculated move to tempt him.

"Nice bike," Logan said casually, though his tone betrayed nothing of his interest.

"It's yours," James said, pushing the keys across the table. "Whether you join us or not. Consider it a token of goodwill. But trust me, Logan, this is just the beginning of what Emilio can offer you. Partner with us, and you'll see what true power looks like."

Logan picked up the keys, turning them over in his hand. He weighed his options—or at least pretended to. Accepting the bike would signal interest, and joining the cartel would give him the access he needed to bring them down from the inside. But he couldn't seem too eager.

After a long pause, Logan finally nodded. "Alright. I'll work with you. For now."

James grinned, clearly pleased. "Smart choice, kid. You won't regret it."

Logan returned the smile, though his was faint and laced with hidden intent. "We'll see."

---

As James left the bar, clearly satisfied with his recruitment skills, Logan stepped outside and approached the Dominator. He ran his hand along the sleek frame, a small smirk tugging at his lips. The bike was perfect—not just for his work, but for his cover. It would allow him to blend in with the Valdez cartel while maintaining his edge as a solo operator.

He climbed onto the bike and revved the engine, the deep growl of the machine sending a thrill through him. For a brief moment, he let himself enjoy the feeling of control and power. Then, his mind shifted back to the mission.

James thought he'd won, but Logan knew better. This was just the beginning. The Valdez cartel had no idea what they'd just let into their ranks.

Logan Holt was no ordinary recruit—he was a predator lying in wait, and when the time came, the Valdez cartel would never see it coming.

The Valdez cartel compound loomed ahead, a fortress hidden in plain sight. High walls topped with razor wire and heavily armed guards patrolling the perimeter made it clear this wasn't just a hideout—it was a statement of power. Logan sat astride his new Dominator, its engine purring softly as he approached the gates. The guards gave him a once-over before waving him through, their eyes lingering just long enough to suggest suspicion, but not enough to question James's orders.

Inside, the compound buzzed with activity. Men and women moved with purpose, some carrying weapons, others overseeing shipments of goods Logan knew weren't exactly legal. It was a well-oiled machine, and Logan was about to step right into its gears.

James met him near the center of the courtyard, his confident smirk firmly in place. "Welcome to the Valdez cartel, Holt," he said, gesturing for Logan to follow him. "But before we roll out the red carpet, there's one little thing we need to take care of."

Logan arched an eyebrow. "A test, I'm guessing?"

"Smart kid," James said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We don't just let anyone walk in here and claim to be the real deal. Think of it as an initiation."

Logan didn't reply, keeping his expression neutral. He followed James into a wide, open training arena at the back of the compound. A few members of the cartel were already gathered, their expressions curious as they watched the newcomer. Among them were two opponents—a veteran shifter whose bulky frame hinted at strength and ferocity, and a synth outfitted with a sleek, lightweight exosuit that enhanced his physical abilities.

James tossed a wakizashi unto the ground in front of Logan. "This is all you get," he said. "No fancy guns, no tricks—just your skill and whatever natural talents you've got. Let's see what you're made of."

Logan picked up the wakizashi,feeling it's weight in his hand. He glanced at his opponents, sizing them up. The shifter's predatory gaze followed his every move, while the synth adjusted the settings on his suit, a faint hum emanating from the machinery.

"Rules?" Logan asked, his tone casual.

James shrugged. "Don't die."

The shifter snarled, his form beginning to ripple as he partially transformed—a hybrid of man and bull with horns that gleamed in the sunlight. The synth, on the other hand, moved with calculated precision, his mechanical limbs whirring softly as he took up a fighting stance.

Logan stood his ground, activating his force field with a faint hum. The air around him shimmered, distorting slightly as the energy shield came to life. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, especially against a veteran shifter and a synth, but he also knew he couldn't reveal everything he was capable of. His telekinesis was his ace in the hole, and he wasn't about to play it unless absolutely necessary.

The shifter attacked first, lunging with blinding speed. Logan sidestepped, as he slashed upward with the wakizashi . The blade grazed the shifter's side, drawing a hiss of pain. The synth followed up immediately, his enhanced strength driving a powerful punch toward Logan's head. Logan ducked, the blow glancing off his force field but still sending a shockwave through his body.

He countered with a burst of telekinesis, using it to amplify his movements. He darted forward, striking the synth in the chest with the wakizashi. The exosuit absorbed most of the impact, but it was enough to knock the synth off balance. Logan spun away just as the shifter came at him again, it fist slamming against his force field and sending sparks flying.

The fight was brutal and unrelenting. Logan used his force field to deflect and absorb blows, his movements precise and efficient. He relied on speed and strategy, outmaneuvering the shifter and exploiting the synth's slower reaction times. Minor cuts adorned his arms and legs, but he kept his focus, refusing to let pain distract him.

Finally, with a calculated feint, Logan baited the shifter into overextending. He sidestepped the attack and drove the dagger into the shifter's thigh, causing the beast-like opponent to stumble and fall. The synth charged at him, but Logan used a concentrated pulse of his force field to throw him off balance, following up with a strike to the back of the neck that sent the synth sprawling.

The arena fell silent as Logan stood over his defeated opponents, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His force field flickered and dissipated, leaving only the faint hum of the synth's damaged suit in the air.

James clapped slowly, a smug grin on his face. "Not bad, Holt. Not bad at all."

The cartel members who had gathered to watch murmured among themselves, their expressions a mix of surprise and approval. Even the shifter, now back in human form and nursing his wounds, gave Logan a grudging nod of respect.

"Looks like you've got what it takes," James said, stepping forward. "Emilio's going to want to see you."

---

Logan followed James into the main building, his mind racing as he prepared to meet the man who ran the Valdez cartel. Emilio Valdez was a name that carried weight in the underworld, a figure both feared and revered. This meeting wasn't just about solidifying Logan's place in the cartel—it was a critical step in his plan to bring them down.

Emilio's office was lavish, a stark contrast to the utilitarian exterior of the compound. The man himself sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his presence commanding. He was in his mid-fifties, with sharp features and an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance.

James introduced Logan, and Emilio's dark eyes studied him intently. "So, you're the one everyone's talking about," Emilio said, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of authority. "I've heard good things."

Logan inclined his head respectfully. "I do my best."

Emilio smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We'll see how far your best takes you, Mr. Holt. Welcome to the Valdez cartel."