United States, New York City, Empire State Building, headquarters of Lamb & Hammon Construction.
Company CEO Robert Davis spoke to Oswald Cotton, who was sitting in his chair reading the ledger:
"I trust Christoph's judgment.
Anyone who needs to drink just to attend a meeting is worthless. His sudden death wouldn't make any difference."
Oswald didn't even lift his eyes. His voice was flat and cold:
"Small matters. Handle them yourself.
I only care about results."
He stood, walking to the window. One hand ruffled the hair of his youngest son, Alfred, while he looked down at the street below, at the people swarming like ants.
In a voice cold as ice, he added:
"Besides—if this time fails, no big deal.
Just keep trying. He'll die eventually.
Control over suburban housing distribution shouldn't be in the hands of someone like him!"
Two days later
Richmond, East End, Lynchburg Gang headquarters.
Fess hung up the phone with the Bazzini family and turned to his most trusted lieutenant, the leader of Squad One:
"Gather the brothers. It's time."
This trusted captain knew plenty.
He'd handled Fess's secret drug sales himself, and he knew how easy that money was.
Fess had privately promised him 40% of the profits.
Soon, all eight squad leaders were gathered in Fess's office.
"You all knew this was coming.
It's time to do it.
I pulled you off that busted-ass farm, remember?
Same rule as always: there's money here for all of us. Anyone who stands in our way dies.
But hey—if anyone wants out, speak up now."
He said it like a choice, but his hand was already on the gun under the table. Anyone who tried to leave would be shot.
But no one was stupid enough to move.
They were all in it for the money.
"Good. According to my inside source, Leo's been eating dinner at Noodles' diner every evening lately.
That's where we hit him.
Bring two men each.
And you all told your vice-captains about their cut too, right?"
The squad leaders glanced at each other.
Of course they hadn't told them anything—why share the profits?
But they all lied smoothly:
"Yeah, we told them."
"Boss—it's on East Broad Street. What about the cops?"
Fess grinned.
"Don't worry about them."
Evening.
Leo's Bentley rolled slowly down East Broad toward Noodles' diner.
Through the window, Leo could see the place was completely empty.
He smirked at Noodles:
"Your apprentice isn't as good a cook as you. Not a single customer at dinner time.
Though my driver loves his food—he came here just for lunch today."
His tone was meaningful.
The driver in the front seat was wiping sweat from his forehead, looking deeply uneasy.
"Sir, I just think Owen's cooking is...pretty good."
The car stopped. Leo patted the driver's shoulder:
"It's winter. Why are you sweating so much?"
Leo got out. The driver exhaled in relief.
Noodles, sitting behind, said dryly:
"Being a traitor is stressful, huh?"
The driver froze and reached for his gun.
But Noodles had already slipped a thin cord around his neck.
Professional and precise—tighten, loosen, tighten, loosen—three times, and the driver went silent forever.
A trick Noodles had learned in prison.
Leo walked casually into the diner and spoke to the sweating Owen behind the counter:
"Bring me your best pizza. Let's see how much you've learned."
He sat down.
Moments later, more than twenty men filed out of the kitchen with guns drawn, all pointed at him.
At their head, Fess sat opposite Leo, sounding almost cheerful:
"My respected instructor. Anything you want to say in your final moments?"
Leo looked at him calmly.
"I gave you a second life. Why do this?"
Fess pulled up his sleeve and tore off his shirt, revealing skin hideously scarred by burns.
He spoke through gritted teeth:
"You shouldn't have saved me.
Every day it feels like thousands of ants crawling all over me.
The pain...makes me want to die."
Leo sneered:
"Funny. At the time you said 'It's good to be alive.'
Said you'd live to avenge our brothers."
Fess roared in fury:
"Don't talk about that damned revenge!
I'm not giving you the chance, Instructor."
He leaned back coldly.
"Kill him!"
Gunshots rang out—but not at Leo.
Fess turned in shock.
All his squad leaders were dropping, riddled with bullets.
The ones firing? Their own vice-captains.
"You—you traitors! When—!"
Leo stood up and calmly patted Fess on the shoulder:
"Villains die because they talk too much.
Take him to the kitchen."
If Leo hadn't wanted information from him, he'd have killed Fess already.
Noodles strolled in, glancing at the carnage:
"You were right. The cops didn't show."
In the kitchen.
Fess was tied to a steel pillar.
"Leo... If you'd known it would end like this, would you have saved me back then?"
"Of course I would. As long as you were my comrade, I'd do anything to save you.
But let's not talk about that. Fess—if you still see me as your instructor, tell me:
Who's supplying you with drugs?
Who put you up to killing me?
Who can order the police to stand down?"
Fess's face twisted into a defiant grin.
"I know all that.
Beg me for it, Leo! High and mighty Leo—beg me and I'll tell you.
I died once already. Your acupuncture can't do shit to me."
Leo stepped forward and calmly pulled a small bag of white powder from Fess's pocket, setting it on the table.
Noodles, standing behind Leo, swallowed hard at the sight.
Without even turning, Leo ordered:
"Noodles. Go pay the brothers. Thank them for saving my life."
Time ticked by.
Fess's defiant expression slowly crumbled.
His eyes locked onto the bag on the table.
His body began to twitch, face contorting in agony.
Finally he croaked:
"Give it to me—I'll tell you."
Leo's voice was soft but cold:
"See? Even torture can't break people like this, but that stuff can. That's why I banned it.
It warps people, destroys order, and even the powerful find it too dirty to touch.
Talk. Then it's yours."
Fess shuddered, sweating, finally gasping:
"The Bazzini family in New York supplies the drugs.
The East Broad Street police chief is the one who keeps them away.
And the ones who want you dead?
The Bazzinis, that police chief's bosses—they all want you gone!
Now...give it to me!"
Leo calmly let him snort the powder.
He watched Fess's blissed-out face, then raised his gun.
"Rest easy, brother."
Fess gave a twisted laugh:
"Heh. Instructor. So many people want you dead.
I'll be waiting for you...down there."
Bang!