章節 11: Gang Activity
Walking along the familiar streets in which I had been raised towards my grandfather's apartment. 'It's been almost three years since I started training,' I thought. 'It's December 28th, and a new year is about to begin. In two months, everything will start—Tony's kidnapping will be the first, then chaos follows. Like Vision said, our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe.'
As I approached the small apartment, I saw a bright light through the windows and a figure on an old chair. 'grandpa always sits in the same spot,' I thought while looking at my grandpa.
Seconds after I knocked on the door, it opened, and I was greeted by my grandfather, who spread his arms and smiled.
"Liam, it's been a while since I've seen you," grandpa said with a smile while hugging me.
"How was training?"
"It's been good, Grandpa," I replied while sitting down and removing my coat. "I've gotten better. But... you were right. There's a lot more garbage out there than there is garbage cleaners.''
Hearing my words my grandfather nodded, looking thoughtful. "The world's tougher than any dojo, kiddo. You'll see it for yourself soon enough." We shared a quiet moment before shifting the conversation to lighter topics—family, memories of my childhood. After a while, we settled into comfortable silence, the sound of crackling fire filling the room.
The next morning, December 29th, I thought to myself,' It's time to look around.' My mind was on more than just memories and training now. 'The city's been changing,' I mused while wandering through the streets. 'Master Chen had mentioned more gang activity in Philadelphia. If it was like that in Philadelphia, I can only imagine what it would be like here in New York.'
Walking deeper into the neighborhood, I noticed a small commotion by a rundown grocery store. Two men stood near an elderly woman, their voices low but clearly threatening.
'What's going on here?' I wondered, squinting at the scene. As I got closer, I could make out the details.
"You better have that money ready by tomorrow, old lady," one of them said, showing her a knife he had on his waist. "We don't provide protection for free."
The old woman held a small purse tightly, her voice shaking. "I'm trying, I swear... Please, just a little more time—"
"We've given you enough time," the second thug cut in. "If you can't pay, you're not getting protection. And trust me, I'll make sure you need it."
My eyes narrowed, muscles tensing. 'They're extorting her—right here, in broad daylight.'
After they finished threatening her, I watched as the old lady slowly made her way back inside her shop. I kept my distance, following the two thugs down narrow alleyways and empty streets. 'I'll wait until they reach a deserted alley. Whatever happens, there will be no witnesses, no distractions.'
Finally, they reached a back alley—just what I had hoped for. Now, nothing could stop me.
"Let's split the cash," one of them said, pulling out a few crumpled bills from his jacket. He was smirking. "This old lady's gonna make us rich."
"That money's not yours," I said, stepping forward.
The thugs turned around, startled. One of them sneered, stepping forward. "Who the hell are you supposed to be, huh? A hero?"
Without a word, I struck. Before either thug could react, I had knocked the first one to the ground with a well-aimed punch to the throat. The second thug, now fumbling for a knife, lunged at me, but it was too slow. I managed to deflect the attack effortlessly, grabbing the thug's arm and kneed it which resulted in a sickening crack of bone. The man screamed in pain, collapsing to his knees as he held his broken arm.
'Not that I care of course, scum like this deserves to die.'
I swiftly finished the job, and in moments, both thugs lay dead in the alleyway. 'No mercy for those who prey on the weak. Even if they were forced to work for a gang they still made the choice to target the old, defenseless lady.' I searched their bodies trying to see if they had more stolen money with them or clues regarding gangs.
When I grabbed his arm, I found something that caught my interest—a small samurai symbol. It wasn't a proper tattoo, but it told me everything I needed to know.
I returned to the elderly woman's store, holding the money the thugs had taken from her. While entering her store her face paled, clearly worried more trouble had come her way.
But Liam only held out the money. "This is yours. They won't be bothering you again."
Her hands trembled as she took the money, relief washing over her face. "Thank you... Thank you so much," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"You can repay me by leaving the city," Liam said seriously. "Things are going to get worse before they get better. Find a safer place. Take this as a warning."
The woman hesitated but nodded slowly. "I'll go," she whispered. "I'll leave as soon as I can."
I gave her one last nod and left the store, disappearing into the night as I made my way to my grandfather's house.
December 31st arrived, and Liam spent the evening with his grandfather. The house was warm and comfortable, but his mind was somewhere else. As they shared a simple meal and watched the clock tick toward midnight, Liam's thoughts returned to the gang he had encountered. He hadn't forgotten the tattoo—the symbol that marked them as part of the Yakuza.
He had spent the days following the incident looking for clues, trying to trace their main hideout. It wasn't easy, but with each day, the pieces began to fall into place.
The clock struck midnight, and Liam raised a glass with his grandfather. "Happy New Year, Grandpa," he said, smiling warmly.
"Happy New Year, Liam," his grandfather replied, while raising his glass to toast the new year.
As the new year passed, Liam's search continued. He spent his mornings training in the early hours, while his afternoons and nights were devoted to gathering intel on the gang. Word of their activities spread through the streets—extortion, violence, a growing network that seemed to be spreading its influence across the city.
Liam had no doubt he would find their main base soon. And when he did, he knew exactly what he had to do.
章節 12: One By One
I'm sorry for being slightly inactive these past few days, I have a lot of fun planned for the next few chapters. Which I am looking forward to :)
The city's atmosphere had changed in the past few days. Rumors of crime scenes, police lights flashing in the dead of night, and a potential gang war were spreading like wildfire.
The news that morning came with chilling updates—"Police Investigate a Series of Brutal Murders in the North End." The screen showed reporters standing near police barricades, with detectives examining the scene in the background. Officers provided vague details, hinting that the recent deaths might be connected. Phrases like "gang-related" and "targeted attacks" were being thrown around.
Liam stood at the corner of a small convenience store, watching the TV behind the cashier's counter. The news anchor's voice was calm, showing how used he was to narrating horror.
"...police are currently investigating if these incidents are linked to ongoing gang activities. The latest victims were found near an abandoned warehouse, they were reported to be a 37 year old male and....''
Liam took a breath and stepped outside into the cold winter air. He had to be more careful now—the more attention the police paid to these deaths, the riskier his task became. But this wouldn't stop him. He needed to keep pushing, and he needed to do it his way.
The Yakuza presence in the city had grown bolder, extorting small businesses and intimidating the innocent. They thought no one could touch them. It was time to change that.
In the middle of the night, Liam was hidden atop an old building, crouched down, his eyes following a small group of three Yakuza members walking below. Their conversation was a mixture of laughter and low mutterings. They were relaxed—unaware that someone was following them.
Liam followed them around a corner into a darker, quieter street, staying in the shadows to avoid being seen until they were far enough from the crowded parts of the city. He stayed in the shadows, making sure no one spotted him until they were far enough from the crowded parts of the city.
One of the men paused, fumbling with his lighter as he attempted to light a cigarette. Liam saw his opportunity. Without hesitation, he dropped silently from the fire escape, landing softly behind the rearmost man. In one swift motion, he grabbed him from behind, muffling his scream before snapping his neck and lowering him to the ground without a sound.
The second man turned around, the cigarette still dangling from his lips. His eyes widened at the sight of Liam, but he had no time to react. A heavy punch struck his jaw, sending him against a brick wall. The third thug, seeing his friends drop like flies, stumbled backward, reaching for a knife.
"No chance," Liam muttered, as he caught the thug's wrist and twisted it. The knife fell, and a knee to the ribs sent the man to the ground, gasping for air.
Liam stood over him, eyes narrowed. "Where's your boss?" he demanded. The thug stared up at him, trembling, his lips quivering without making a sound. Liam could see the fear in the man's eyes, but the thug still chose to remain silent.
Without hesitation, he snapped the man's neck, leaving the three bodies in silence. They were all the same—a threat that needed elimination. Another corner of the streets that needed cleaning.
Days passed, and the mood among the Yakuza began to shift. The leader, Hiroshi Sato, sat in his office, his face twisted in a scowl as he listened to yet another report of missing members.
"This makes twelve in the past week," one of his lieutenants said, his voice low, afraid to speak too loudly. Hiroshi's fingers tapped on his desk, tension growing in the room.
"Twelve in a week," Hiroshi repeated slowly, as though tasting the words. He stared at the man in front of him, eyes narrowing. "And you have no idea who's responsible?"
The lieutenant shook his head, avoiding eye contact. "We've searched, boss. No one has seen or heard anything. It's like they just vanish."
Hiroshi gritted his teeth in anger. "This is unacceptable. We cannot afford to show weakness to the other gangs. We need to be ready. Recall all higher-ups and every capable member. Increase security at key points. I want everyone back at the main hideout. No more splitting up."
He leaned back as he glanced towards the wall on the left side of the room—a wall adorned with maps of the neighborhood and photos of rival gangs. This was his territory. Whoever was picking off his men was making a mistake, and Hiroshi was ready to make an example out of them.
The streets were quieter now. Liam noticed the difference immediately. The smaller groups of Yakuza that used to roam freely had vanished, replaced by fewer but larger patrols. The ones that remained moved in packs, at least six or more at a time, their eyes looking around nervously at every corner.
Liam knew what this meant thanks to a lower-level grunt; they were regrouping, pulling back to wherever they felt safest. It was a strategic move, but it also gave an opportunity. It meant the most dangerous men were all cornered in one place.
During his latest raid, Liam grabbed one of the lower-level grunts, slamming him against a wall. "Where's your boss?" he demanded.
The thug coughed, spitting blood, his eyes wide with panic. "I—I don't know," he gasped. "Only the higher-ups know where the hideout is. They don't tell us anything!"
Liam stared at him for a moment, then dropped him to the ground before swiftly ending his life. Another body left behind, another problem solved. He had learned enough to confirm his suspicion: the real action was at their main hideout, and only their upper members had access to it.
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Liam's efficiency had increased. He moved quicker now, each raid becoming training in precision and control. His awareness had sharpened; he could see the direction of a gunshot before it was fired, dodging them with ease due to frequent close calls with gang members. The Yakuza might have thought they were safe with their numbers, but he was becoming something far more dangerous with each fight he had.
That night, during a raid on another Yakuza safehouse, Liam found the lead he had been waiting for. Among the files and cash was a folder—photos, videos, all containing a series of kidnappings. Children with tears streaming down their cheeks. The images were brutal, but they were also proof—proof of the Yakuza's cruelty and proof of where they were keeping the hostages.
He flipped through the photos, his jaw tightening at the sight of the frightened, pained faces. Liam clenched his fists, the image of a small child bound in chains flashing through his mind. He knew where they would be, and he knew it was time to finish what he started.
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