Chapter 25: The King of the Rust Belt
The meeting took place at dawn. The rain had finally stopped, leaving Veridian City washed in a pale, grey light.
Max stood in the center of the boxing ring in the ruined gym where the Iron Dogs had died. He had bought the property. He was going to rebuild it.
Around the ring stood the remnants of the city's smaller gangs. The Copperheads (under new management), the Razor Boys, the Dock Workers Union. And Old Man Russo.
They looked at Max with a mixture of awe and fear. In one week, he had crippled the Vittorio logistics, killed a supernatural assassin, and turned the police force into his personal weapon.
Russo stepped up to the ropes. He looked old and tired, his tuxedo looking dusty in the morning light.
"You called us, Max," Russo said. "We're here. The Hellions are patrolling the streets. The cops are raiding the North. Kaelen is in hiding."
"It's not enough," Max said. He wasn't shouting. He was speaking with the calm, detached cadence of a general.
"Not enough?" Russo scoffed. "You've done the impossible. Take the win, kid. Leave town."
"I'm not leaving," Max said. "And I'm not taking a win. I'm taking the crown."
Max turned to face the gathered gang leaders.
"For fifty years, you have eaten the crumbs from the Vittorio table. You fought each other for scraps while they dined in the Citadel. You let them kill my friends here, in this room."
Max pointed to the floorboards, stained dark with old blood.
"The Iron Dogs are dead. But the Iron Legion is born today."
Max raised his hand. The air around him shimmered. He wasn't using a spell; he was using pure charisma, the supernatural magnetism granted by the Entity.
"I offer you a choice," Max announced. "Kneel, and you will rule this city by my side. We will take the North. We will take the Citadel. We will take everything."
"And if we don't?" a leader from the Razor Boys asked defiantly. "We don't bow to kids."
Max looked at him. He activated Mastermind's Eye.
Target: Razor Boy Leader.
Weakness: Pride.
Action: Public Humiliation.
Max moved. He didn't strike. He simply closed the distance in a blur of speed that made the man flinch. Max stopped an inch from his face.
"Then you can go ask the Sin Eater what happens to people who stand in my way," Max whispered. "Oh, wait. You can't. He's dust."
The Razor Boy leader swallowed hard. He looked at Max's eyes—voids of infinite darkness. He dropped his gaze. He knelt.
One by one, the other leaders knelt. Even Russo, with a sigh of resignation and respect, bowed his head.
Status Updated: Faction Leader.
Army Acquired: The Iron Legion.
New Objective: Total War.
Max looked out over his new army. He felt the Entity purring in his mind, feeding on the ambition, the loyalty, the impending violence.
Max wasn't just a driver anymore. He wasn't just a survivor.
He was the Warlord of the South. And the North was about to burn.