TN: And we're back! sorry for the week long hiatus, it was not intentional since I had to get my right leg in a cast after tripping 3 floors down a stairwell (like an idiot ://) and be unable to use my PC setup upstairs BUT I should be OK now.
Anyways, Thanks for Arcanic Madness, WeissAkumu and WolfWTF for becoming as Supporters!,
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"Are you sure this is the place?" Nekomata looked at the building nervously.
It was the office of a real estate agency on Fourteenth Street. Although it had long ceased operations, two burly Thiren still stood guard outside. Shiny short swords hung at their waists, and one of them carried a compact submachine gun.
"The Lucenti family… seems fate has brought us here," Ignis said, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Based on the Public Security Bureau's intel, combined with Phaethon's address, these must be their people."
The interrogation by Zhu Yuan had revealed a name from the warehouse manager accused of self-theft: Anthony DeLuca. He was reportedly a mid-level operative of the Lucenti Mafia, recently taking some side jobs and earning a lot. The address in front of them had been found by Phaethon's AI assistant, Fairy, after scanning the city's surveillance footage, public photos, and other data sources.
"So, what's our next move?" Nekomata crouched in the shadows of a streetlamp. "Say hello to them?"
"Do you think that's an option?" The Salamander sighed. He had gone out unarmed today—a huge mistake.
Not that it mattered much; a Space Marine was already a walking weapon of war. A mere Mafia family wouldn't slow him down.
"So, we storm in now?" Nekomata drew a trench knife from her knee guard, gripping it tightly.
"No, wait." Ignis held her back. "We need to make sure the real decision-maker is here. Otherwise, it's just a bunch of lackeys, and we won't get anything useful."
Nekomata could hear his heavy breathing. The giant's fists were still clenched, veins bulging. He hadn't calmed down; the fire of anger still burned in his chest. If not for the intel, he probably would have already charged inside and torn the place apart.
The Salamander waited for the Lucenti family's cash transport. Phaethon had sent a message: every night, the Mafia sent a vehicle here, guarded and loaded with heavy boxes in the trunk. The boxes were chained to the couriers.
Rain's intel said this was the Lucenti family's daily black revenue, laundered through the shell of the real estate agency. If they wanted resources for an information exchange, this cash was the prime target.
The whereabouts of a mid-level operative were insignificant compared to the stacks of cash stored here, especially the money already laundered.
A light truck rolled through the night. Its white side panels read "Toscana Freight." No mistake—it belonged to the Lucenti family's transport business.
The truck stopped in front of the agency. Two men in company uniforms jumped out and opened the cargo bay. The Thiren at the door opened it further as the money handlers loaded the boxes inside.
"Six unloading from the truck…" Nekomata counted. "Eight waiting inside… Was this store remodeled?"
Although Nekomata's eyes gave her night vision, the Salamander's flame-sight was superior. Ignis estimated, based on residual heat traces, that at least thirty to fifty people were inside. He even traced a hidden floor that likely housed the vault.
Once the last box was unloaded, a man in a sharp suit stepped out of the cab. He walked at the rear, and when he entered the store, the two Thiren immediately closed the doors.
"Now?" Nekomata readied herself.
She had tangled with many gangs, but most were petty. A Mafia like the Lucenti family was a different matter entirely. Today's raid excited her; she even felt like laughing at what might come next.
"Hold on a moment." Ignis began counting his heartbeats. "Five minutes."
During this wait, Nekomata was unprecedentedly excited. She crouched low, four paws on the ground, ready to strike. The Thiren looked alert but were actually distracted, yawning and glazing over.
"Move!"
Ignis moved faster than his own shout, charging like a war machine from the shadows. His heavily augmented body surpassed a car's speed in moments, a three-meter giant cutting through the darkness like a shadowed hurricane.
The Thiren guards barely heard him and were about to call out. Fourteenth Street wasn't the Lucenti's biggest territory, but they were powerful. Yet no sound escaped their throats.
A colossal black figure flew at them faster than they could draw their weapons.
The Son of Vulkan's fist slammed into a Thiren's head, sending it soaring; blood erupted like a fountain several meters high. Ignis briefly vented his recent fury. Another guard had drawn his gun halfway, finger on the trigger.
A few meters away, stopping the shot seemed difficult—but such a small submachine gun was no threat to him.
The advantage of surprise might be lost.
He thought, pivoting to crush the guard.
But the gun never fired. Nekomata leapt from the shadows, running on all fours nearly as fast as Ignis. The guards' attention was on the giant; the cat went unnoticed. Her trench knife smashed the guard's jaw, breaking bone, then the blade cut through the neck and pierced the chest.
Then the Salamander punched through the door. Two figures, one large, one small, stormed in.
Shouts, gunfire, and screams erupted inside. Less than three minutes later, all fell silent.
"Call your boss," Nekomata kicked the man underfoot. "We have business to discuss."
"Who are you? The Lucenti family won't let this slide!" The kicked man growled. If he could stand, it would have sounded more imposing. His legs were broken by the Salamander; bones protruded, blood pouring.
"If you cooperate, I can have a medical Bangboo perform emergency treatment." Ignis held a surviving cashier. "You better stay sharp; you've seen how the others died."
The cashier was nearly insane with fear. The Lucenti family had never suffered such humiliation—two killers had stormed in with no words, leaving carnage. The giant crushed all guards in his path. Pulverized limbs, ruptured torsos, fractured skulls—the mid-level guards, veterans of gang wars, could not withstand him for a second. Their guns were useless; bullets did nothing but provoke his rage.
A few tried to hide and attack from behind, but the cat struck. Her daggers sliced throats and pierced chests with precise speed. Someone tried to shoot from afar, but her thrown dagger pinned a head, dropping the target.
He couldn't understand. The family had negotiated business with other gangs, abiding by prior agreements. Why were these two gods of slaughter here? They bore no insignia and weren't from Fourteenth Street gangs… who were they?
While the cashier pondered, the suited man gave in; he had no other choice. These two didn't want money—they demanded to speak to the boss.
He dialed the godfather. After a few blind tones, a voice he feared sounded through the phone.
"What is it, Simon? It's late."
"Mr. Vito…" Agonizing pain nearly made him pass out. "The vault's been raided. Someone wants to speak with you…"
Silence, then: "Fine, let him take the call."
Ignis took the phone from Simon's trembling hand, stepping aside for the Bangboo to tend his wounds.
"Who are you?" the voice asked. "What do you want?"
"Me? You don't deserve to know my name." Ignis was direct. "I only want information on one person: Anthony DeLuca. Where is he?"
Silence. Only the cashier's anxious breathing and Simon's groans.
"Fine, Robin Hood. If you won't tell me your name, that's what I'll call you." Finally, Vito spoke. "You know the Mafia is family. We never betray our own. My men are on their way. You'd better be smart and leave."
"Is that so? Which happens faster, me burning your vault or your men arriving?" Ignis tossed the phone to the cashier.
The giant had already located the vault. Though its reinforced alloy door was ten centimeters thick, it was nothing against a psychic-augmented Space Marine.
He channeled the Emperor's power; golden flames ignited his fist. Noble fury, blazing hatred, and restless spirit made the flames stronger than ever.
Ignis slammed the vault door with a punch. The destructive force in golden fire obliterated it instantly; the door shattered.
"He! He! He!" the cashier screamed. "He punched through the vault door! Boss! He punched through the vault door!"
Vito's hairs stood on end. He had known this cashier for years—a loyal, honest man—and now he spoke of the impossible.
He pulled up the vault footage on his personal terminal. Sure enough, the door was breached; a giant stood inside, facing the cameras.
"Now, are you willing to talk?"
The giant's tone was icy, blood-soaked like a terrifying demon. Vito recalled his recent actions—he shouldn't have provoked such a monster. Where had this being come from?
The alloy door was rated to withstand five kilograms of explosives; yet a fist had destroyed it. Was he even human?
Vito had been the godfather for twenty years, through countless gang wars, but had never seen such a figure. He could only meet its demands, or risk both his vault and life.
"Anthony DeLuca, right…" Vito tried to steady his voice. "You'll at least have to tell me why you're after him."
"He's connected to the case involving my friend's kidnapping," Ignis said, his red eyes burning with rage. "I need answers from him. I hope, Mr. Vito, you don't misjudge the situation."
"I understand. I'll send him to you. Give me some time." Even through the screen, Vito felt the murderous intent in those eyes.
He hung up, immediately ordering his deputies:
"Find that idiot Anthony DeLuca!"
Vito roared, venting the fear he had just felt. He collapsed on the bed, realizing he was drenched in sweat from the encounter. A single glance from the giant had terrified him.
The mighty Lucenti godfather, Vito, who had expanded the family and won countless gang wars, now sat shaking in fear.
"Damn it! That idiot Anthony! How did he piss off such a monster?" He got up, washed his face, and tried to recover.
Suddenly, his phone rang—his deputy.
"What do you mean he's missing? Find him! Now! If you can't, we're all dead! Not one survives!"
Vito's vision went black; he passed out.
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