North Carolina, 9:46 p.m.
In the middle of a noisy, dusty city, there's a place too expensive for the average person to enjoy.
"La Fleur du Noir," an exclusive French restaurant, located on the top floor of a five-star hotel, was fully booked that night by the Triads.
There were no guests, no waiters. Just the dim light of a crystal chandelier, a long dining table with expensive wine, and two of the deadliest criminal forces on the East Coast of America.
Hive arrived in formal attire.
Danny wore a three-piece charcoal suit without a tie, his blond hair neatly combed back.
Osiris wore a black high-collared shirt, his face cold and scarred.
Jerry, immaculate in an ivory white suit and thin leather gloves. Beneath the suit, a pair of Silver Colt M1911s were neatly concealed in his shoulder holsters.
At the far end of the room, Zhao Wen Lei, the Triad's top representative for Eastern America, sat at the center of the table, surrounded by four burly men in tuxedos, and the room was filled with well-dressed Asian men. Beneath their polite manners… lurked a murderous intent.
"Danny Alvaro," Zhao opened the meeting with a nod. "Son of James "the Lion" Alvaro. I hear you look more like your mother."
Danny smiled a little, insincerely. "Thank you… Zhao, and you seem more talkative than I'd heard. But okay, please continue."
A thin laugh spread, laced with venom.
The purpose of this meeting. An offer.
The Triad wanted to purchase the distribution license for Moth Dust, a synthetic drug manufactured by the Hive, which had been threatening the Triad's heroin market on the east coast. In return, the Hive would receive money, distribution access at certain ports, and a guarantee of peace.
But Danny knew. Peace was a means, not an end.
The Hive wasn't built to sit under anyone's table.
Zhao took a sip of white wine and said, "We want a deal, Danny," Zhao said. "Protect your drug patents, but allow us to distribute them in the northern zone. You'll get paid… big. And we promise not to touch the western ports. We can avoid war, Danny. The Hive is small. It can still grow… if you know how to do business."
"Small?" Danny swirled his wine glass. "You want to sell our goods, on our land, for your money? And call it peace?"
"Better than war," Zhao took another sip of his wine. "War drains blood and money. I prefer business."
Jerry chuckled, "Business is one-sided."
As they talked, Jerry scanned the room.
The CCTV was turned off.
The windows were too clean.
The gunman stood too stiffly by the elevator.
And it looks like there is total 16 Triads mans in the room, while Hive only enter the room with only 9 men.
This wasn't a negotiation.
This was war wrapped in white linen.
Zhao wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.
"Okay. I'll cut to the chase. The Hive will hand over the northern zone distribution to us, and the drug patents will remain yours. You'll get $18 million in transfers. We won't interfere with your western port. We'll live side by side."
Silence.
Tension.
Danny stared at him. Then at Jerry.
A smile appeared on his face.
An unusual smile, a mix of remembrance, resentment, and condemnation.
"I think you're forgetting one thing, Mr. Zhao."
Zhao raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Danny stood up. He adjusted his suit sleeves.
"The Hive didn't come to this table to sell drugs…"
And before anyone could move…
BANG.
The scream of shattering glass followed.
Jerry was on his feet, his right arm aimed at Zhao's head, the bullet had already pierced his skull, blood splattered onto the wall. Jerry stood, his hand still gripping the Silver Colt M1911, smoke billowing from the muzzle. His smile was still there, maniacal, calm, and sadistic.
"Negotiations is closed," he said lightly.
The dining table toppled. Blood splattered onto the white linen.
The Triad members screamed, raising their weapons.
The fight had begun.
The gunfight in the confined space was fast, brutal, and unforgiving.
Jerry leaped behind a chair, firing one round after another from his two pistols with insane reflexes and precision.
Osiris, with his Silver Colt Python, concealed under his belt. His hands were like a machine, his .357 caliber bullets piercing the chest of one of the Triad guards, sending them flying through the glass window.
Danny calmly walked behind the counter, pulled his Glock from his pants, and fired twice into the chest of the man trying to escape through the kitchen. He didn't get angry. He didn't scream.
He just judged.
One of the Triad guards tried to fight back, a knife hidden in his wrist.
He ran toward Danny, only to be stopped by Osiris, who threw a chair at his face and smashed the butt of his Colt Python into his skull, shattering it.
7 minutes.
That's how long it takes for the Hive to turn a five-star restaurant into a bloody art gallery.
Before they left, Jerry carried Zhao's body to the dining table and placed him back in his chair.
He adjusted the man's suit, then took the napkin and put it back in his lap.
"Last courtesy, this fine dining after all." he said with a smile.
Hive didn't come to negotiate.
Hive comes to make history.
And that night... all the criminal world knew.
Hive purposely show their fangs.
They are not heirs.
They are executioners.
The room was now silent.
The only sound left was the sound of blood dripping from the dining table onto the marble floor, mixed with the night breeze coming in through the broken window.
Osiris walked slowly to Zhao's body, which was leaning lifelessly in his chair.
He looked at that face… frozen, disgusting, full of arrogance, now shattered by a single bullet.
He lifted Zhao's body like a broken doll with only one hand and placed it on the table. He reached into his pocket, took out a small piece of paper, and wrote a sentence in Mandarin.
Then, addressing one of the surviving Triad guards, now kneeling with blood on his shoulder, Osiris spoke in a low voice.
"Pack his body in dry ice. Send it to Hong Kong. Include this note."
"What's in it?" the man asked, trembling.
Osiris stared at him coldly.
"A warning."
That night, Hive left the restaurant like a king without a crown, stained with blood, but untouched. Danny only came with 8 of his men. Yet, none of them even get single scratch.
They got into a black car waiting outside.
There were no sirens. No police.
Because the system... they had already bought it.
On the way home, a light rain fell on the empty streets.
Jerry sat quietly in the back seat, staring out the window. His hands were still shaking slightly, not from fear, but from adrenaline. He lived for nights like this. But... somehow, tonight didn't feel like enough.
"Tired?" Danny asked, without looking up.
"Nah," Jerry replied shortly.
"We're going to keep going like this, aren't we?"
Danny smiled faintly, lighting a cigarette.
"The world is listening. We can't be silent."
Hive's come home with nothing but a straight face. Like, a night like this, is just a another Tuesday.