Mercenary Barnabas confiscates Porsche 918 Spyder in Hamburg

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Unscrupulous mercenary confiscates a Porsche 918 Spyder and drives through Hamburg in the super sports car fulfills more contracts

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The electric motors whir, push the gleaming chrome elevator doors aside and a light-blonde two-meter man thirsty for action enters the light-flooded eighth office floor, which is home to an advertising agency, a service company for the creation of hallucinations and fantasies. If the big one weren't noticeable by his physical dimensions, his clothing would do the job. He wears a field grey, incomplete three-piece suit, the missing jacket over the crisp white business shirt without a tie and the vest he has replaced by a knee-length, tar-black leather coat.The laced combat boots match the field grey tone of the solid men's suit with the help of precisely fitting colors.

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Uncouth mercenary roughly provokes the delicate employee of an advertising agency

"Hello, young lady! Where's the boss? I need to speak to that guy!" The tall grunt in the leather coat growls sullenly at the reception desk.
"Who are you?" Replies the employee, Tilda Holz, duped, who sits behind the futuristic furniture that is reminiscent of a command post of a spaceship from a science fiction film.
"That doesn't matter! Not your business, honey! I want to chat with him!" The mercenary mobs aggressively.

The squeamish receptionist Tilda Holz defends herself against the unscrupulous mercenary without any chance

"Not like that, you uncouth bastard!" Mrs. Holz blurts out clumsily.
"Don't be so pretentious, bitch!" The grunt clearly enjoys the confrontation. "Where is he now, bitch?"
"How dare you! I'll call security!" she yells helplessly.
"Go ahead! I like the mission more and more, bitch!"
"We'll see about that soon!" She glances at a separate room made of glass walls, which generously closes the open-plan office on the opposite side. In it, a slim man in his late thirties in a platinum-gray business suit sways in a desk chair behind an avant-garde, glass table furniture, looking bored through the rear glass facade of the hustle and bustle in the Hamburg harbor on the north Elbe in front of the Kleiner Grasbrook.

The grunt likes the verbal confrontation with the stylish receptionist

"Why not right away, bitch?" Assesses the freelancer cheerfully. Consequently, he purposefully analyzes her line of sight. Without delay, he struts demonstratively through the open-plan office, grins maliciously at the employees, and storms dynamically towards the glass office.

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The former grunt aggressively storms into the office of business owner Peet Dornbeek

"You can't just run past me," The company's overwhelmed receptionist squeals helplessly after him.
"Good morning, Mr. Dornbeek!" The grunt roars into the office, at the same time he opens the glass door and slams it.
"What the hell do you want?" Dornbeek jumps up in alarm.
"I want to pick up the keys to the 918."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You are one month in arrears, Mr. Dornbeek!"
"That's ridiculous! I'll call my lawyer right away." He picks up the phone.

The mercenary and special forces veteran doesn't hesitate to use brute force to complete any job

"Take care, smart ass." the crude freelancer pushes him roughly back into his synthetic leather armchair, looms in front of him with his impressive stature. "We can solve the matter painlessly or with unpleasant consequences. You're an advertising specialist, everything in your industry is based on delusion and deception. Think hard! What will your business partners believe when they find out that you are short of money?" To support this, the computer monitor accidentally rattles onto the needle felt carpet.

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The sensitive head of the company surrenders unconditionally to the mercenary's convincing arguments

Thus, in the end, all pairs of eyes of the employees focus on the two counterparties in the boss's office. Intimidated, Dornbeek fingers the key out of his trouser pocket and throws it on the desk. "The last word has not been spoken! I just bow to brute force."

The grunt receives the key to the Porsche 918 and disappears with the trophy: Mission Accomplished

"Your right, call your lawyer for help, wimp", this is how Barnabas appropriates the key transponder and runs away. While waiting for the elevator gondola to arrive, he overhears Mrs Holz over the intercom to hear the arrival of the lawyer Dr. Schleppfuss announces, which elicits a smug smile from him.

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Mercenary Barnabas roars through downtown Hamburg in a Porsche 918 Spyder realizes further contracts

Barnabas stows the hardtop in the trunk under the front hood, starts the V8 mid-engine of the hybrid sports car, a gray metallic 918 Spyder, and quietly slips out of Hamburg's Hafen City over the Kornhausbrücke, branches off to the left into Dovenfleet, and heads east towards Hamburg Central Station. After crossing the Hamburger Kunsthalle, in front of the Lombard Bridge, he turns the open two-seater to the right, past the snow-white Wilhelminian style architecture with the green patina on the surface of the copper roof, the Hotel Atlantic, follows the bank of the Außenalster in the bolide, approaches over the Schwanenwik and Heinrich-Hertz-Straße to the destination in Humboldtstrasse in Barmbek-Süd: a massage studio for erotic massages.