Author's Note:
There are families that show power.
And then there are families that never need to.
Felix Marino just learned the difference.
Scene – Felix's Study.
Rain behind frosted windows. Jaime's voice crackles on the secure call.
Felix:
"Report."
Jaime (steady):
"We were ambushed."
Felix stiffens.
Felix:
"How?"
Jaime:
"Internal breach. Two of Lucia's bodyguards were plants. So was her driver.
Disguised as waitstaff. No outward tells. They struck fast."
Felix (grim):
"And your men?"
Jaime (quiet):
"Taken out in the first ten seconds. I was hit in the leg."
Felix leans forward slightly.
Felix:
"Sera?"
Jaime:
"Protected. Because of him."
Felix (tense):
"Who?"
Jaime:
"The boy. Nivrit."
Felix frowns.
Jaime (continues):
"They scavenged a pistol. He handed it to her. And then walked in—unarmed.
He went in that way on purpose. Against six men with submachine guns.
Like it was a game."
Felix:
"And?"
Jaime:
"Killed all of them. Six of the eight. Including two snipers on overwatch.
In under three minutes."
Silence. Jaime lets that settle.
Felix (low):
"With what?"
Jaime (dry):
"A serving tray. A broken bottle. A steak knife. Someone's belt.
Didn't matter."
Felix exhales—sharply.
Jaime (quiet now):
"Sir. I've seen cartel raids. I've led recovery from black site breaches.
I've operated across three continents."
Pause.
Jaime:
"I've never seen someone move like that."
Felix:
"Explain."
Jaime:
"It wasn't reaction. It was design.
Every motion served a terminal purpose.
Like he'd pre-watched the fight in slow motion and was just executing frames."
He lets the next words fall one by one.
Jaime:
"No wasted energy. No panic. And no hesitation."
Felix (carefully):
"How did he know about the snipers?"
Jaime:
"I don't know. But he adjusted cover like he was reading their trigger rhythms.
Like he could feel where they'd shoot."
Beat.
Jaime:
"And here's the part I still don't understand—
The moment they attacked, he said his men were already on their way.
I never saw him make a call. But by the time the last body dropped…
they arrived."
Felix (voice low):
"What kind of people?"
Jaime:
"Not cartel. Not PMCs. Their movement was military, but silent.
Their gear was custom.
Their efficiency… surgical."
Felix's hand closes around his glass.
Jaime (soft):
"Sir… I've seen operators. The best in the world. But that boy?
He wasn't surviving. It was like a game to him."
Felix (hushed):
"Say his full name again."
Jaime:
"Nivrit. Nivrit Vashirayan."
Silence.
Felix (with a flicker of surprise, but keeping it cool):
"I'll call you back. Look after her."
Scene – Later.
Felix places a quiet call. An old encrypted satellite phone.
No cigar. No drink.
Voice (gravelly, warm):
"Felix. Been a long time."
Felix:
"Too long, old friend."
Voice:
"Yes. Too long indeed."
Felix (calm):
"I need a name verified. Quietly. No flags."
Voice:
"Shoot."
Felix:
"Nivrit Vashirayan."
The line goes quiet. Not static. Not broken. Just—still.
Like the word itself pressed a hand to the mouth of the call.
Felix:
"You still there?"
Voice (now lower):
"…Where did you hear that?"
Felix:
"My daughter's boyfriend."
Voice:
"Jesus Christ."
Felix doesn't speak.
The man on the other end shifts tone—once familiar, now almost reverent.
Voice:
"Listen to me. I've survived three regimes. I've watched entire syndicates vanish overnight.
You know what kind of men I've had to crawl over to stay breathing."
Felix:
"I do."
Voice:
"Then believe me when I say this: that name?
You don't research it. You don't say it twice.
You don't even think about spelling it wrong."
Felix:
"Elaborate."
Voice (measured, respectful):
"They don't work like us. They don't posture. No shows of force. No bravado.
Just a silence so wide it feels like a myth—
until you realize the myth already walked past you…
and didn't consider you worth correcting."
Felix:
"Should I be worried?"
Voice:
"You should be grateful he hasn't looked at you like a problem.
That's the only kind of safety they give."
Felix (calmly):
"Understood."
Voice (gently, for the first time in years):
"Felix. I'm telling you this as a friend.
Do not—do not—test the weight behind that name."
Felix slowly ends the call.
Doesn't move for a long time.
Then, finally, he pours the drink.