“That bitch’ll learn quick what happens to people who piss me off.” Mitchel snapped. It had been 8 hours since Reggie had come back, a knife wound in his gut, moaning and simpering about the savagery of Oichi Taiga. He couldn’t begin to describe his anger at the news. He sat in his office on the second floor of his butcher shop. This shop was where he ran his gun running business...and it’s where he conducted all business deals, in terms of both meat…and organized crime. “How dare she. No one drops out of deals with ME. If it wasn’t for us, their whole operation would be buried! Who does this whore think she is!? I’ll show ‘em…I’ll drop by her fucking jail cell and shoot her in her smug-”

*RING RING*

Mitchel froze and reached for his cell phone, sitting down in his office chair and glancing out the window at the street.

“Yeah, talk.” He answered.

“You got a fucked up since of humor, Mitch.” Michel groaned. He hated this voice…hated hearing it. His name was Detective Jonathan Morris, his mole on the inside at the NMPD. Their relationship was a very…thin one. The two bickered and spat at each other behind closed doors while working side by side to assist each other. Morris looked the other way and in return he got a cut of their profits.

“What’re you talking about?” He snapped.

“You think we’re just your toys, Mitch? Think you can just bat your eyes and the police’ll all fall over themselves to please you?”

“It’s AMAZING how little sense you’re making right now, Morris. What’s the issue?”

“You give me a call about the Taiga gang and that you’re ready to see their WHOLE world come ‘crashing down’ were your exact words. So WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY!?”

“The hell? I told you where they were. I gave you addresses for all 5 of their stations of operation.”

“So now you think I’m stupid too? Not only do you think I’m your dog, but you think I’m dumb! THERE’S NOTHING HERE, YOU LYING SON OF A BITCH!” Mitch blinked a few times, his words catching in his throat.

“Nothing!?”

“Nothing! Every location is clear. A simple car dealership, a bicycle shop, an autorepair shop, a department store, and then this fucking manor you sent us to? Nothing! There’s no evidence of gang activity here.”

“Interrogate the neighbors! Talk to the employees! They obviously packed up and left!” Mitchel reasoned. “Find out the truth!”

“I did! They said that a bunch of hoodlums used to sit around and smoke weed, but they never dealt or showed any signs of drug production. Since I KNOW you wouldn’t call me out to arrest a bunch of drugged up little shits, I can only assume that this Taiga gang that you told me about isn’t here and has never been here.”

“Don’t you talk down to me, you piece of shit! I sent you there because the Taiga gang backed out of an agreement with us and NOW they’re going to PAY for it. Should I remind YOU what happens to people who back out of deals with me!?”

“Go right ahead, Mitch. And while you’re sending your boys over to pound my face into the concrete, you’ll have 5 SWAT teams busting down the doors of your operations. You brought me into your little business, and I can sell you out ANY FUCKING TIME I WANT! MAYBE IT’S YOU WHO SHOULDN’T TALK DOWN TO ME, MITCH!” The two both fell silent, but were fuming furiously to themselves about the frustration of this whole issue.

“Alright then, Detective…so what’re you calling to tell me?”

“That I’ve made two deductions.” He snarled. “The first is that you used your influence in the police to try and take down a rival gang, but gave faulty information. In that case, it means you lied to us and now WE’RE the fools for it. OR, you actually did give us correct information and, based on witness accounts and interrogations, the gang you sent us after is nothing more than a bunch of aimless, harmless hoodilums who spend their time smoking weed and loitering. In which case, you AGAIN wasted our time and resources.”

“This Taiga…this new bitch who took over…she’s not like her husband was…there’s something about her…something dangerous.”

“Wait, a WOMAN!? You mean to tell me this gang, run by a woman is giving you trouble!? How long has she been a thorn in your side?! Don’t tell me just recently!”

“She ain’t no normal bitch!”

“…I think we’re done here, Mitch. I highly suggest you not contact me again…and find someone else in the police to do your dirty work from now one, cause I didn’t sign on to be your laundry boy.”

“DON’T YOU HANG UP THIS PHONE ON ME, YOU RAT FA-”

*click*

“GODDAMN YOU!” He roared as he threw his phone to the ground furiously. He leaned against his desk and roared, pounding his fist against the wood. “Where did they go?! How could they have known? That slut…she…did she plan this!?” He stood and began packing the room. “Doesn’t matter…Morris’ll pay for his double crossing…but later. Right now I need to find that Taiga bitch and her little gang. They can’t have left NO trace what so ever…”

*knock knock*

“This isn’t a good time.” Mitchel called back at the door.

*knock knock*

“Fine! Fuck it. Just get in here.” The door opened and in walked two men wearing suits, ties, and one had on a fedora. In between them walked an Asian woman with moderately long black hair and a cold expression on her face. She wore a button down shirt, slacks, and a long overcoat over it. She marched in, heels clicking and then paused. Mitchel stared at her a moment, slowly processing who she was.

“I understand you were looking for me?” She asked.

“Y-y-YOU!?” He screamed, standing up. “HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE?!”

“I walked in.” She explained. Mitchel grabbed for his broken phone to call the front office to find out how they’d gotten past Louis. “Don’t bother. Your friend Louis has a bullet in his knee and won’t be up for making his way up the stairs to your office.” Mitchel stared at her and dropped his phone, going to his desk for his pistol. Before he could, the two men beside the woman pulled guns of their own, aimed at his head, forcing him to freeze. “I wouldn’t recommend testing Max and Jarel here…they’re both a bit excitable with a gun.” Michel sat down in his chair and sighed.

“So…you here to negotiate with me in person?”

“No. You had that chance when I invited you to dinner.” Oichi replied, walking inside. “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a hostile takeover.”

“A what?” He asked, surprised.

“As we speak, your two other gun running fascilities are being commendered by my teams of ‘cleaners.’”

“Don’t joke.” He laughed. “Like your piss poor gang could stand up to my boys.”

“You’re a sloth, Mitchel.” She laughed. “You’ve relied on the police to back you up and be your muscle so long, you forgot how to actually use YOUR OWN muscle. But certainly, let’s put it to a bet.” Oichi held up her cell phone and smiled. “Call your boys…ask them how they’re doing.” Mitchel took her phone and dialed in the number to the bakery a few blocks over.

“Arthur…Arthur pick up the phone…” He growled. After several rings the phone finally picked up. “Arthur, what took you!?”

“Arthur can’t come to the phone right now.”

“….PUT HIM ON THE DAMNED PHONE!”

“Sorry…but I only take orders from Miss Taiga.” Mitchel nearly dropped the phone in horror and then looked to Oichi in fright, who was smiling that same cold grin. She wasn’t human…she was a tiger…leering at her prey.

“You….YOU CU-”

“Watch your mouth.” She snapped, forcing him silent. “Choose your words VERY carefully before you speak to me.” Michel felt his blood run cold. “I promise you, that what happened to your bakery is happening to your gas station and your toy store. All of your smuggling houses are falling under MY jurisdiction.”

“…How? How did you do this!? Your fucked up little band of rejects were shit just two days ago!”

“I knew what kind of man you were the moment I met Rat….that emissary you sent me for that dinner negotiation?” Oichi replied. “You’re a germaphobe, Mitchel…you’re afraid of getting your hands dirty. You don’t want anything tied back to you. Rather than meet me in person, you send a punk to do business with me…one who CLEARLY was a waste of flesh and bone. Your major smuggling warehouses were far enough away from this place for you to have plausible deniability, and were governed by individual management so that, should they ever be outed, you could simply claim they had nothing to do with you. And, you use police influence to flex muscle and protect your interests. Yes, you built up quite the little fortress, Mitchel. I was even a little impressed at first.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, nodding, until her eyes opened again, and there was, again, that flash of ferocity.

“But the weakness was clear from the start: those who hold everything at an arms length eventually lose connection. Very hard to maintain a grip on your assets if you don’t keep them close. I knew you’d send the police to our warehouses, because you wouldn’t dare risk drawing attention to your own boys going there. And when they found nothing but MAYBE the remains of a group of hoodlums and losers, they’d lose faith in you. Police don’t like being treated as loyal hound dogs to gun runners, after all. And while your police protectors ran your errand, my men entered your smuggling dens and systematically took them apart.”

“You….you….YOU…” Mitchel couldn’t speak…he was too blown away by her speech. He tried to scream…swear…curse…demand answers, but the glare from her was enough to silence him.

“And now you have a choice to make, Mitchel. Killing you would be messy and would draw more attention from the law than I’d like right now. But I don’t have to kill you, dear. Once your rivals and business associates find out you’ve been dethroned, they’ll climb over themselves to kill you and clean up the scraps. You haven’t made a lot of friends, have you?”

“Screw you…”

“So all I have to do is kick you out on the street and send word out that the great Black Death Syndicate is now mine, and it’s former boss is…what’s the English phrase? ‘On the goat?’”

“On the lamb, miss.” Max corrected her with a polite bow.

“Thank you, Max! Yes, ‘on the lamb.’” She replied smiling, as if speaking on this subject was as casual as a lunch date. “But I’m willing to offer you a modicum of protection, Mitchel. Surrender your assets to us willingly and get out of town…allow us to put our own crews in charge of your businesses and then kindly vanish from the map. Do that, and I promise you, we won’t tell anyone what rock you crawled under.”

“WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DO THIS TO ME!?” He finally screamed, jumping to his feet. “You show up in this country for less than a week and already you start by dismantling and destroying what I’ve built for years!? THIS IS MY LIFE’S WORK!”

“Are you willing to die for it?” Oichi asked.

“What!?”

“Are you willing to die for it? Fight back? Make a final stand against me and do everything in your power to get it back? Will you die on that sword?” She demanded. The coldness in her eyes was not joking or sarcastic…she was dead serious…it was a truly honest question she asked him.

“I….” He started to answer but didn’t…his whole body quivering in fear at the reality of his answer.

“…Then I guess your ‘life’s work’ wasn’t worth your life then.” She stood up and wagged her finger for him to walk out from behind his desk. He hesitantly and quietly did so. As he did, she walked around and took a seat in his chair, leaning back and smiling up at him, now the clear power holder. “Then flee with your life, Mitchel, and know your former buisnesses are in good hands.”

“…You’re a goddamn devil...”

“And you’re a cockroach.” She replied cooly. “Makes me wonder why you bothered trying to start a war with me at all.”