The glass walls framed the warehouse below like a command deck overlooking an army. Workers moved with quiet efficiency beneath them, unaware of the subtle shift that had just taken place inside the man across from Naima.
'I saw what you wanted me to see' Nolan thought inwardly. 'Thank you. Now handle the discussions. I'm not good at this, Quentin.'
A dry scoff echoed in his mind, 'You're adequate. I'm simply better.'
The transition was smooth as Nolan spun out of the chair and Quentin took his seat,
Nolan's shoulders eased back into the chair. His posture shifted from contemplative to comfortably dominant. His gaze sharpened, losing its warmth. A faint smirk ghosted across his lips.
Quentin was at the wheel.
He drummed his fingers once on Naima's desk and tilted his head.
"You carrying any smokes?"
Naima didn't look surprised. She opened her drawer without comment and produced a slim case. She set a pack of cigarettes down — then a single cigar beside it, thick and dark.
offering a choice between the two.
Quentin reached forward and took the cigar without hesitation.
"Thank you."
He lifted it to his nose and inhaled slowly, appreciatively. His eyes half-lidded.
"This is the good stuff."
Naima leaned back slightly, watching him, "I keep them in here just for you."
His grin widened, lazy and pleased.
"You know me so well."
There was something playful in the tone, edged with familiarity. Something almost intimate.
Naima's smile softened for a brief second — but she didn't respond to that. Instead, she flicked open a lighter and leaned forward to light it for him.
Quentin leaned in just enough to meet the flame.
He drew in slowly, the tip glowing amber. Smoke coiled upward between them as he exhaled toward the ceiling.
Then the levity faded.
"Call Madam Jiang," he said evenly. "Like I told you. She'll be interested in this conversation."
Naima's expression shifted into focus.
"You're sure?"
Quentin took another measured pull from the cigar.
"Oh, I'm sure."
She nodded once and reached for her phone, beginning to dial.
Quentin rested back into the chair, one arm draped over the armrest, watching the warehouse floor through the glass as the line began to ring.
Below them, his people moved about their days.
Unaware of the storm that was coming, the storm Nolan was trying to cut off before it reached himself and his allies.
The phone rang twice before the line clicked open.
A woman's voice came through — calm, measured, faintly amused.
"I'm surprised to see your number, Naima."
Naima didn't hesitate. "I'm calling on behalf of the boss. You're on speaker."
There was the faintest pause on the other end.
Then a soft sound of acknowledgment.
"I see."
A shift in tone she was more respectful now.
"Good evening, Quentin."
Quentin took a slow pull from his cigar before answering, letting the silence stretch just enough to assert control.
"Madam Jiang."
Smoke curled from his mouth as he leaned back in the chair.
"I wanted you in on a conversation we're about to have. It suits your goals rather well."
"Oh?" she replied, curiosity sharpening her voice. "This is about expansion?"
Quentin glanced at Naima and gave a small shake of his head.
"In a way," he said. "If you play your cards right, you can expand."
There was a quiet hum of interest through the speaker.
"Do tell."
Quentin rested his elbow on the armrest, cigar balanced loosely between his fingers.
"I've set meetings with several unaffiliated powers still standing after the war."
He spoke the names evenly.
"The Khadym Mob — they control a quarter of the weapons and drug flow through western Alleytown."
A faint exhale from Jiang. She knew them.
"The Riley Crime Family," he continued. "Irish. Fragmented since Sean Riley's death. They're vulnerable but still hold dock access along the eastern waterfront."
Another pause.
"And the remnants of Moxon's old empire. Corporate shells, construction contracts, security firms. They've lost their patriarch but not their infrastructure."
Silence settled for a beat.
Madam Jiang was calculating.
"And you believe they will align with you?" she asked.
Quentin smiled faintly.
"I don't need full alignment at this moment."
He took another drag, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I need pressure."
Naima watched him carefully.
"If Khadym fears Riley encroachment," Quentin continued, "and Riley fears losing dock leverage, and Moxon's remnants fear being squeezed out of redevelopment contracts…"
He exhaled smoke slowly.
"They'll all look for stability."
"And you intend to offer it," Madam Jiang finished.
"I intend to position us as the only structure capable of balancing all three."
A quiet chuckle came from the speaker.
"You're building a web."
"I'm building inevitability."
Silence again — longer this time.
Finally, "And where," Madam Jiang asked softly, "do I fit into this inevitability?"
Quentin's smile sharpened.
"You control the eastern shipping lanes that survived the crackdown. Quietly. Efficiently. If negotiations go well, I'll need someone respectable to anchor the maritime side."
"Respectable," she repeated with faint amusement.
"Stable," Quentin corrected.
Naima's gaze flicked toward him briefly at that word.
Madam Jiang considered.
"And if negotiations go poorly?"
Quentin's tone didn't change.
"Then you'll be very happy you were on this call."
A soft laugh.
"You want my support."
"I want your presence," Quentin replied. "When these meetings occur, word will spread. If you're seen as adjacent to us, it alters perception."
"And in return?"
Quentin didn't hesitate.
"Structured expansion into western routes. Quietly. Under shared protection."
The line went silent again.
This time, it wasn't curiosity.
It was evaluation.
"You're moving against the Court's influence. I can see what you're planning and you will have to be convincing Quentin." Madam Jiang said finally.
It wasn't a question.
Quentin's eyes flicked toward Naima briefly — then back to the glass, watching the warehouse below.
Madam Jiang was smart, she saw between the lines easily. Everything was about the court, everything was about complete and total victory.
"I'm moving around them," he said smoothly.
Madam Jiang was silent on the other end of the line.
Then decisively she spoke, "When and where?" Madam Jiang was smart and she saw a chance of winning
Quentin's smile returned — small and satisfied.
"I'll send the details."
Naima frowned from across Quentin, "I'm guessing that went well, I'm not sure I followed what including more outsiders will help with the court."
Quentin nodded understanding her confusion, "Look at the bigger picture Naima, I will explain everything when we have a meeting with the rest of the underpass."
She nodded confusion still written plainly across her face, "the bigger picture huh?"
Quentin laughed, "Yes yes the bigger picture, think what do people like us hate the most? What do criminals despise more than anything,"
"Cops? Batman?" She offered
Quentin shook his head, "Your right of course but it's not that simple, criminals like us have an uncanny relationship with the law. We walk down the street and see regular people and sneer down at them why? Because they are normal and law abiding? Criminals, love feeling above the law, they love the feeling of making their own path and their own freedom."
"Let me tell you nothing beats the rush of walking past cops, them knowing you're a criminal and not being able to do a damn thing."
"I see." Naima said she was clearly deep in thought
"So how will they feel when they realize they have been under shackles this whole time. That they have been under the thumb of the court since they start of their journey. How will they feel when they learn the only reason they exist is because rich elitist let them?"
Naima's eyes dawned in realization, "Furious," she whispered
"They will be furious."