Building a Business Empire with my Technological System

Perched high in the shadowed recess of the 20th floor, the sniper stared down the scope in disbelief.

"He evaded my shot?" he muttered under his breath, dumbfounded.

"It's impossible. How could he have managed that? I had him perfectly in my sights; no human could react that fast."

His finger, still tense on the trigger, relaxed slightly as he replayed the moment in his mind. The target had moved with such precision, almost as if he had anticipated the exact timing of the shot. Shaking his head, the sniper recalibrated his rifle, his eyes scanning the chaos below for another chance.

The crowd had dispersed in a frantic scramble, their screams echoing off the buildings, but his focus remained fixed, on the Toyota Alphard that was racing away from the scene. The sniper adjusted his scope, trying to keep the fast-moving vehicle in his line of sight.

He knew catching the target now would be significantly more difficult with the increased distance and the vehicle's unpredictable movements.

"Could he have known I was here?" the sniper pondered, his thoughts racing as he considered the possibilities. "Was it instinct, technology, or something else?" His profession had taught him to account for every variable, yet this anomaly was unlike anything he'd encountered.

The sniper checked his equipment quickly, ensuring all settings were optimized for a long-distance shot, should the opportunity arise again. He zoomed in, focusing intently on the path the vehicle might take, calculating potential stopping points and turns.

Despite the initial miss, his resolve hardened. The mission was clear, and failure was not an option he entertained lightly. He made a few quick adjustments to his scope to compensate for wind and elevation, his training allowing him to make these calculations swiftly.

The sniper took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. And then moments later, he fired again, hoping to correct his previous mistake.

But once again, the shot missed its mark. It wasn't due to any evasive maneuvering by Michael this time—the bullet simply didn't hit its intended target. The distance, the slight wind variation, and the speed of the moving vehicle, all contributed to the miss. The sniper felt a surge of frustration wash over him. Missing once was rare for him, but twice was nearly unheard of in his meticulous career.

As the Toyota Alphard sped away, weaving through traffic and putting more distance between itself and the sniper, the possibility of a third attempt seemed increasingly unlikely. The sniper watched helplessly as his target diminished in the distance, obscured now not only by physical barriers but also by the limitations of circumstance and timing.

Grudgingly, he recognized that continuing the pursuit from this position would be futile. The dynamics of the environment, coupled with the target's unexpected capabilities or sheer luck, rendered further attempts from this location impractical.

With a heavy sigh, the sniper began to pack up his equipment. He methodically dismantled the rifle, placing each piece into its designated compartment in the case.

After that, the sniper glanced around the empty floor, a sense of urgency creeping up on him. It was time to evacuate the position before any law enforcement or security personnel arrived. The miss had likely drawn attention, and maintaining the secrecy of his location was paramount.

Once his gear was secured, the sniper made his way to the service elevator at the end of the hall.

***

Inside the Toyota Alphard.

Michael winced in pain as the searing sensation from the graze by the bullet continued to throb. Despite the near-miss, his mind raced not only with the pain but also with the urgency of the situation. Juliet, sitting beside him, looked over concernedly.

"Are you sure you don't need immediate medical attention?" she asked, her eyes scanning the road as their driver maneuvered through the traffic, increasing the distance from the sniper's last known location.

Michael grimaced, applying pressure to his shoulder to stem the bleeding. "No, it's just a graze. We need to get to a safe location first. Keep driving, we can't afford to stop now."

"We should stop by at the hospital," Juliet suggested.

"No," Michael rejected. "Whoever tried to kill me will know that would be the first place we'd go. Take me to my penthouse in BGC."

Juliet nodded, relaying the change of plans to the driver. The car veered off its current path, heading towards Bonifacio Global City where Michael's high-security penthouse was located.

Upon arriving there, Michael was escorted by the security in his penthouse, while his other security positioned themselves in the main and service entrances of the building to ensure his safety. Inside, Juliet called the doctor stationed in the condominium.

"The doctor is on its way here," Juliet informed.

Michael tore off his shirt to better inspect the wound, assessing its severity. The bullet had grazed his shoulder, leaving a shallow but painful laceration. The blood had already started to clot.

He sat down heavily on the couch. "This is bad news, this is the first time I got targeted. I wonder who would make such a thing."

"Mr. Reyes, Mrs. Estolas, and Ms. Bridget are calling me, possibly to ask how are you," Juliet informed him as she glanced at her phone, displaying the incoming calls.

"Put them on speaker," Michael instructed, preparing himself to reassure his major investors.

Juliet tapped her phone and soon the concerned voices of Antoinette Estolas and Bridget von Reimann filled the room.

"Michael, we heard you got shot. Are you alright?" Antoinette's voice was fraught with worry.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Estolas. It was a close call, but I managed to get away. It's just a minor injury," Michael responded his tone calm and composed to avoid causing any further alarm.

"You stay wherever you are okay?" Bridget advised.

"I will, Bridget. Don't worry, I'm in a safe place."

"Good," Bridget replied. "Please, let us know if you need anything at all."

Antoinette chimed in again, "Michael, we're going to increase security around you and the company's facilities immediately. This incident was too close. We need to ensure it doesn't happen again."

"I agree," Michael said. "We'll discuss further steps soon. For now, I appreciate your support and quick response."

After ending the call, Michael leaned back against the sofa.

"Should I start an investigation into the incident, see if we can dig up anything that might lead us to who's responsible?" Juliet asked.

"Yes, please do. We need to know who's behind this and why."

"Understood," Juliet responded, tapping into her tablet to initiate the necessary actions.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Juliet looked up and went to answer it, finding the building's on-call doctor waiting. He carried a medical bag, his expression serious as he entered the room.

"Dr. Salazar, thank you for coming so quickly," Michael greeted him as the doctor approached.

"Let's take a look at that wound," Dr. Salazar said, setting down his bag and pulling on a pair of gloves. Michael showed him the shoulder, and the doctor carefully examined the grazed area.

"It's a clean graze," Dr. Salazar observed. "You're fortunate it wasn't deeper. I'll clean and dress it properly to avoid any infection."

"Thank you, doctor."