The men finally noticed the presence of Mark and Ronan in the basement.

"Yo, Mark!" One of the men at the table called out, taking a puff of his cigarette. "Who is this lad? And why did you bring him here?"

"He is an acquaintance I made a few days ago," Mark replied with a placid face. "He wants to join us."

It was like a bombshell being dropped off in the centre of the basement. The attention of the room had been somewhat divided before, but now it was completely focused on Mark and Ronan.

"Join us?" Another man sneered. "Look at him. All skinny and green. Has he even grown hair on his balls?"

"Or have you grown balls in your head?" He mocked Mark staring dead into his eyes. "Or maybe you have your brain in your ass?"

Mark’s face fell. He had expected a hostile reaction from his colleagues, but he had not thought it would be this direct and confrontational. He glanced at Ronan’s face to see if there was any change in his expression, but there was none. Mark breathed a sigh of relief. He, under no condition, wished for things to turn ugly.

"Gary!" Mark almost snapped. "It is nothing like that. Do not spout nonsense."

"Nothing like that?" Gary laughed mockingly.

He stood up from his seat and approached them. The tension in the room thickened, rising steadily, as every eye remained fixed on them, especially on Gary. All of them were wondering what his next action would be.

"Look at his face, his clothes," Gary boomed. "Does he look like someone who could join a gang? Become a thug?"

"He looks like a scholar," he continued. "A feeble boy."

"Now, do not tell me he is a student?" Gary questioned, a mocking smirk plastered across his face. "Is he, Mark?"

Though maintaining a neutral expression on his face, Ronan internally raised an eyebrow. He wondered if Gary had some kind of beef with Mark.

"None of that matters," Mark replied with a shake of his head.

He was clearly uncomfortable and awkward about it, but he nonetheless continued.

"I brought him here to join our gang," he said. "And it is not like I have already declared him a member. It is for the Boss to decide. We are not the ones to make those decisions."

A heavy silence ensued in the basement at the mention of the boss. Even Gary was caught off guard, and his expression turned awkward. It did not need to be reiterated that it was obviously the Boss who held the absolute authority to decide if someone could join the gang or not. Even so, Gary quickly recovered his wits.

"True," he laughed out loud, trying to hide his awkwardness. "It is the Boss who will decide if he can become our member or not."

"But," he continued. "We can surely test if he even has the capability to stand before the Boss. Surely we can?"

"You would not mind, would you?" He grunted, stepping closer to Ronan and staring aggressively into his eyes.

Ronan remained silent for a few seconds, contemplating his next sequence of actions.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ronan questioned casually. "And it is not the alcohol going to your head?"

"Haha!" Gary laughed mockingly. "He thinks I am drunk."

"I am sure, boy," he boomed.

Ronan continued standing in silence, staring evenly back at Gary.

"Go easy on him," Mark mumbled from the sidelines.

"Already begging for mercy, Mark?" Gary questioned.

Mark did not reply. He remained completely silent, his face neutral. But Ronan replied instead.

"He is not talking to you," Ronan said calmly. "He is asking me to go easy on you."

It took Gary a couple of seconds to process what Ronan was actually saying. The moment he did, a raging expression twisted his face. He thought that Ronan was purposely trying to humiliate him and on his own turf, no less. And it was an insult he could not take lying down.

"You motherfucker!" He snapped. "Who do you think you are?"

Gary had obviously lost all rationality in that moment. He was acting on pure impulse and instinct.

Driven by that impulse, he raised his right hand and threw a punch with all his strength, aiming straight for Ronan’s face. He was not holding anything back.

Every pair of eyes in the room, barring Mark’s, widened in surprise. They fully expected a bone cracking or jaw shattering sound to echo through the basement as Gary’s fist would strike Ronan’s face. But nothing of the sort happened.

To Ronan, the incoming fist appeared to be moving in slow motion. At the very last second, just as the knuckles were about to make contact, Ronan tilted his head. It was just a slight tilt. No exaggerated motion. Just the bare minimum and the fist passed a mere hair’s breadth from his face.

A completely surprised expression washed over Gary’s face. Everyone watching assumed it was a lucky fluke.

Recovering from his shock, Gary tried to pull his hand back for his next move, but before he could even manage it, he felt a massive wave of force smash into his stomach. Bile travelled up his throat as he stumbled a few steps backward. He clutched his stomach in sheer agony, a dull, raging thrum radiating from the point of impact. He raised his eyes, finding Ronan standing in a pose, in front of him with a raised fist. Gary had been punched by Ronan and simply could not believe it. The spectators were in no better condition. They were utterly stunned. They too had assumed that Ronan would come out to be nothing more than a greenhorn. But it seemed as if he was an expert.

"I think I have shown enough capability to prove my worth," Ronan remarked with an extremely calm expression.

No one responded. A pin drop silence prevailed in the basement with every eye fixed on the man of the moment. Ronan. Though, they were still not aware of his name.

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