Bab 52: Shadows in Madripoor!
Hightown was perched above the chaotic streets of Lowtown, giving a stark contrast to the poverty stricken environment below. As the place where all of the richest and most influential Madripoor had to offer stayed, Hightown was naturally glittered with opulence.
Vendors couldn't be seen anywhere. Instead, the streets were wide and held stores that were owned or sponsored by the Syndicates & other persons with influence in Madripoor.
Luxury cars purred softly along the roads, protected by squadrons of syndicate members, all of whom were armed with rifles and trained to fire at the slightest potential of danger to their bosses.
HighTown catered to the elite,, criminal kingpins, international moguls, and corrupt politicians, offering them a sanctuary where they could conduct business and indulge their vices in style.
Currently in this symbol of corrupted wealth, a meeting was beginning between the Dragon Fang Syndicate & the Yashida Clan in one of HighTown's crown jewels, a building that exuded luxury.
The meeting was held in a penthouse conference room near the top floor. At every floor of the building, members from both organizations were armed and on lookout, ready to kill anyone who attempted to break in.
In that penthouse conference room, it was reeking of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey, and gathered around a long, luxury ebony table was the leaders of two of Madripoor's most infamous syndicates.
The Dragon Fang's leader, Dmitri Volkov, was a hulking brute of a man with a scar slicing across his bald head. His massive arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes scrutinizing everyone in the room.
A Dragon tattoo coiled up his neck, the symbol of his organization.
Across from him sat Takashi Yashida, the eldest son of the Yashida Clan patriarch. Slim and sharp-featured, Takashi exuded an air of cold arrogance. His tailored suit and polished demeanor sharply contrasted with Dmitri's rough exterior. Despite his composed exterior, his fingers tapped the table rhythmically, betraying his unease.
The room was filled with their respective lieutenants and trusted enforcers, all armed to the teeth. Despite their supposed "truce," tension crackled in the air like a storm about to break.
Dmitri broke the silence first, his voice a low growl. "So, Yashida, care to explain why your clan suddenly forgot the rules and started encroaching on my turf?"
Takashi's lips curled into a faint smirk, "Bold accusation, Volkov. Perhaps you should consider whether your own men are losing control before pointing fingers."
Dmitri slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the empty glasses and scattering ash from a nearby tray, "Don't play coy with me! My warehouses got raided last night, and all of my men working there died. Don't you DARE tell me it's all just a coincidence."
Takashi's gaze hardened, his hand drifting toward the ornate katana resting beside him, "Watch your tone, Volkov. You're not the only one whose operations have been hit. Our shipments were hijacked yesterday too, and the other city leaders are already whispering about this. Never mind in LowTown, our operations got stuffed by this...'High Table.' they call themselves. We're both losing control."
The room erupted into a cacophony of accusations and threats as lieutenants from both sides jumped into the fray. Hands hovered near holsters, and the metallic clicks of safeties being switched off filled the air.
Dmitri stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Enough!" he roared, silencing the room. He pointed a thick finger at Takashi, "You think this 'High Table' nonsense is real? Some ghost story to scare kids. They're a scapegoat at best, you think so many skilled people, with so much resources would appear here and none of us would notice? IT'S A PLOY!"
Takashi remained seated, his expression unchanging as he didn't get triggered by Dmitri's angered reaction, "Ghost story or not, the consequences are real. Whoever they are, they've dismantled your operations in Lowtown, disrupted my supply lines, and taken out some of the best men in Madripoor without leaving a trace."
A voice piped up from Dmitri's side of the table—a wiry man with a patch over one eye, "They hit the marketplace too. Killed our collectors. But the people there... they weren't scared. They were relieved. Like they already knew the High Table would protect them."
Another man, this one from Takashi's side, chimed in. "There's talk on the street too. Vendors saying the High Table doesn't take bribes or protection fees. They don't extort. They just... clean up."
Dmitri barked out a harsh laugh. "Clean up? Madripoor doesn't need a savior. Whoever these fools are, they're a threat to us both. And threats need to be eliminated."
Takashi nodded slowly. "For once, Volkov, we agree. But charging in blind will only get more of our people killed. We need to learn who they are, what they want, and how they operate."
The room fell into a contemplative silence. Despite their mutual hatred, the two leaders recognized the necessity of working together—at least for now.
Dmitri leaned forward, his voice a low rumble, "Fine. We pool our resources. My men will keep watch on Lowtown. You cover Hightown. We find their weak spot, and then..." He let the threat hang in the air.
Takashi inclined his head, "Agreed. But understand this, Volkov: the moment this High Table is dealt with, our truce ends."
Before Dmitri could respond, the room's lights flickered off, and everything plunged into absolute darkness, leaving everyone practically blind for the moment.
The sudden loss of light sent a ripple of panic through the gathered syndicate members. Shouts and curses filled the air as flashlights clicked on, their beams cutting through the blackness.
"What the hell is going on?" Dmitri bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls as he pulled out his own handgun and aimed it across the room into the darkness, ready to shoot anything that moved too close to him.
A faint hum filled the room, followed by a mechanical click. Then came the sound of boots, soft, deliberate, and impossibly synchronized.
"Show yourselves!" Takashi demanded, unsheathing his katana with a sharp metallic hiss as he stared around the room intently, ready to strike at any moment.
A single red laser dot appeared on the chest of one of Dmitri's men. Before anyone could react, a silenced gunshot rang out, and the man crumpled to the floor, his gun falling under the table as blood seeped out of his bullet-wound.
"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" Dmitri reacted immediately, moving to take any bit of cover he could as chaos instantly erupted across the room, bullets whizzing by continuously now.
With fear striking their bodies and no answers given, the members of the syndicates just started blindly firing into the darkness, their gunfire lighting up the room in a brief, strobe-like flash.
However, the attackers were like Ghosts. They couldn't be seen, couldn't be hit, yet their attacks were lethal & ferocious, constantly reaping the lives of their prey without fail.
Yelena Belova stepped into the room like a phantom, her sleek black tactical suit blending seamlessly with the darkness. Her HeadHunter pistol was a blur as she fired, each shot finding its mark with deadly precision and bringing another one down.
"Clear the room," Yelena ordered, her voice calm but commanding.
Behind her, a squad of elite Black Widows flooded the space, their movements calculated and methodical. They moved like predators, eliminating targets with brutal efficiency.
One Widow lunged at a syndicate lieutenant, her knife slicing through his throat in a single, fluid motion. Another used a grappling hook to yank a man from his hiding spot, snapping his neck before he hit the ground.
Dmitri roared, charging at Yelena with a metal pipe in hand after he ran out of ammo, none of it working on the attackers. Yelena sidestepped his wild swing effortlessly, delivering a swift kick to his knee that sent him crashing to the floor.
"You should have stayed in your hole," Yelena said coldly, planting a bullet between his eyes that sent him on a first-class trip to hell.
Takashi, meanwhile, fought with the precision of a samurai, his katana slicing through the air as he tried to fend off the attackers, however, he couldn't hit any of them no matter how he tried.
Soon enough, a pair of Widows disarmed him with ease and Yelena approached him slowly, her pistol aimed at his heart, "The High Table sends its regards," she said, pulling the trigger without hesitation, sending him alongside Dmitri.
Within minutes, the room was silent once more. The bodies of the Dragon Fang and Yashida leaders lay scattered among their men, the floor slick with blood.
Yelena holstered her weapon and tapped her earpiece. "A.N.G.E.L., the operation is complete. Both syndicates have been neutralized."
A.N.G.E.L.'s voice crackled in her ear, "Excellent work, Agent Belova. Extraction team is en route. Leave no trace."
The Widows moved swiftly, collecting weapons, wiping down surfaces, and ensuring no evidence of their presence remained.
As Yelena exited the building, she glanced back at the carnage with a faint smirk. The High Table's message was clear: Madripoor belonged to them now.
And anyone who dared to challenge that would meet the same fate.
Bab 53: Hope!
The setting of the sun bathed the rooftops of LowTown in a cool amber glow, that casted long shadows across the buildings below. On one such rooftop, a teenage girl was perched on the edge, her legs dangling over the side.
Her dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few rebellious strands framing her freckled face, and a battered old smartphone was pressed to her ear, "Kiana, certifica-te que chegas a casa ao anoitecer." the voice came from the other side.
"Sim, mamã, não te preocupes." The girl, Kiana responded, before a new, male voice came over the phone.
"Why are you staying out so long?" The voice asked.
"You won't believe it, Papa," Kiana said, her voice light with a mix of excitement and disbelief. "I saw one of the Big Sisters take down a guy twice her size yesterday. He was shouting about how this was 'his street,' and she just... flipped him onto the ground like it was nothing."
On the other end of the line, her father's voice crackled through the speaker. "Kiana, I've taught you better than this. Don't trust anyone, those people just arrived, who know what their intentions are."
Kiana smirked, swinging her legs lazily, "Well, I believe them. Didn't Big Sis Katerina even stopped by Mom's shop this morning. She said things are going to get even better soon." Her tone grew softer, almost reverent. "For the first time, it feels... safe here, you know?"
As the conversation meandered on, Kiana's eyes caught movement on the street below, a familiar figure, clad in the sleek black tactical uniform that had become a symbol of quiet authority in LowTown.
Katerina, one of the Big Sisters, was making her rounds. Kiana smiled to herself and cut off the phone call, standing up and brushing off the dust off her jeans as he looked across the City.
"Get down from there Kiana," Before she could even react, Katerina had already locked gazes with her, calling for her to come down.
"Está bem, está bem. Desço num instante." Kiana said in Portuguese, and quickly made her way down the building, spotting Katerina still waiting for her.
"Still patrolling Big Sis?" Kiana asked, her hand clinging to the older woman's as they walked across the street.
"My shift ends soon. The High Table doesn't overwork us. Morgana will take over. How have you been?" Katerina asked to the cute teenager clinging to her.
"Of course, you guys have helped so much." Kiana said, thinking back to the changes that have occurred over the past week.
Compared to previously, the streets of LowTown no longer echoed with gunshots and roars of pain at night, nor were they haunted by the screams of those caught in the crossfire of gang wars. The oppressive banners of syndicate control, painted in blood and fear, had been torn down.
Instead, a new power was in place, called 'The High Table.' No-one knew much about them or their motives, but they had protected everyone in LowTown and were taking down many of the syndicates, earning the trust of most.
All day and night, enforcers of the High Table would be patrolling the streets, and Katerina was one of them, whom Kiana had more than a few run ins with on her daily escapades across the city for fun.
"You should come by, you know mama is making egg rolls at her shop tonight." Kiana said as they walked closer to her home, puffing her chest out.
Katerina chuckled, glancing up and down the street. "I might. But only if you don't burn them like last time."
Kiana stuck out her tongue playfully and skipped down the street, her heart light. Seeing Katerina there gave her a sense of security she'd never felt before. The 'Big Sisters,' as the locals had come to call the Black Widows patrolling Lowtown, were fierce protectors.
Katerina, in particular, had become a kind of guardian angel for Kiana's family. A few weeks ago, when a disgruntled former syndicate thug had tried to shake down the breakfast shop,
Katerina had intervened. She'd dealt with him so swiftly and silently that Kiana still wasn't sure what had happened. All she knew was that the thug hadn't returned, and her family hadn't paid a single protection fee since.
When Kiana arrived, her mother's shop was already bustling, her mother was frying dumplings while her father tinkering with the coffee machine that had certainly seen better days.
The small space smelled of soy sauce, garlic, and the faint metallic tang of engine grease clinging to her father's overalls.
"Kiana, finalmente chegaste." her mother said, handing her a tray of freshly fried rolls, "Leva isto para a mesa junto à janela, por favor."
Kiana nodded, weaving through the narrow space to deliver the food. The shop had a steady stream of customers, most of them locals who had lived in Lowtown for years.
Today, however, there were also new faces, strangers with sharp eyes and quiet demeanors. Kiana had noticed more of these people lately. They weren't from Lowtown; their clean clothes and confident air gave them away.
"They're with the High Table," her father had whispered to her, nervous as he saw them sitting in the store.
As Kiana returned to the counter, a conversation caught her ear. Two men were huddled over bowls of steaming noodles, their voices low but urgent.
"They took out the Dragon Fang and the Yashida Clan in one night," one man said, glancing around nervously.
"The High Table?" the other asked.
The first man nodded. "I heard they wiped them out completely. No survivors. And they didn't just kill them—they sent a message. No more syndicates, no more corruption. Lowtown belongs to the people now."
Kiana's heart swelled. The rumors were spreading, and with them, a new sense of hope. She'd grown up believing that Madripoor would always be a place where the strong preyed on the weak, where families like hers were at the mercy of ruthless gangs. But now, for the first time, she dared to dream of something better.
****************
Meanwhile, across Madripoor.
The dim light inside a decrepit building flickered, casting erratic shadows across the blood-smeared walls and broken furniture. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of death, mingled with the faint scent of gunpowder and scorched fabric.
Bodies lay scattered across the floor, some crumpled against overturned tables, others slumped in corners where they had tried, and failed, to escape.
Yelena stood in the center of the carnage, her black tactical suit glinting with streaks of crimson. Her short, blonde hair clung to her sweat-dampened face, and her breathing was slow but steady, the adrenaline from the fight beginning to ebb.
She flipped her knife in her hand, a blade still dripping with fresh blood, and turned to the last remaining syndicate member cowering against the wall.
The man trembled as he clutched his side, blood oozing between his fingers. "Please... I'll leave. I'll disappear. You'll never see me again."
Yelena tilted her head, her green eyes cold and unflinching, "Disappear? No. That's not how this works."
Without hesitation, she stepped forward, plunging the knife into his chest with a practiced efficiency. His body went limp instantly, collapsing to the floor with a dull thud. Yelena wiped the blade on his sleeve, returning it to the sheath on her thigh.
She tapped a comm device in her ear, her voice steady despite the brutality surrounding her. "Maxim, this is Belova. The Yashida Clan is gone. Completely wiped out. The Dragon Fang too."
A brief silence crackled over the line before Maxim's deep voice responded, "Good. You've done well, Yelena. Time to consolidate and take over. The World Governments are already sniffing around after the communication went done. We need to take over immediately."
Yelena chuckled, stepping over a body as she made her way to the exit. "Understood, I'll clean up here and head to the next target. Anything else?"
"For now, rest. The High Table will take care of the rest of the loose ends."
As the line went silent, Yelena pushed open the heavy door and stepped out into the night. The cool air hit her like a balm, washing away some of the stench of death clinging to her.
She looked down the empty street, the faint hum of activity in the distance a stark contrast to the stillness behind her.
She tightened the straps of her gear and began walking, her figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving only the grim scene inside as a testament to the High Table's unrelenting grip on Madripoor's future.
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