Chapter 3 - The Ownership Clause
The tactical mercenaries aimed their laser-sighted assault rifles directly at the bank staff.
Customers screamed and scrambled frantically to hide behind the heavy mahogany desks.
The leader of the strike team, a massive man with a scarred face named Thorne, stepped forward.
"Nobody moves, and nobody has to die today," Thorne announced with a deep, menacing voice.
Sterling dropped to his knees, raising his hands in pure, cowardly terror.
"Take whatever money you want from the vault, just do not hurt me!" Sterling begged pathetically.
Thorne ignored the sniveling manager and locked his cold eyes entirely on the little boy.
"I am not here for the vault, I am here for the package," Thorne said, pointing a heavy leather gloved finger at the child.
Mark tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder, refusing to let the mercenaries take an innocent child.
"You are not taking him anywhere," Mark stated, though his knees were shaking uncontrollably.
The little boy looked up at Mark with a surprising expression of total calm.
He handed the crumpled envelope to the brave bank teller.
"Read the paper," the boy whispered quietly.
Mark quickly pulled a thick, watermarked legal document from the old envelope.
His eyes scanned the highly classified legal text, his jaw dropping in absolute shock.
"This is impossible," Mark gasped, looking from the paper to the heavily armed mercenary leader.
"Hand over the boy right now, kid, or I will end your life," Thorne warned, raising his rifle.
May you like
Mark held the document high in the air, his voice suddenly filled with sudden confidence.
"You cannot hurt him, Thorne, because according to this corporate deed, this five-year-old boy owns your entire private military company," Mark declared.
