Gao's Chamber of Commerce
Nolan sat in an ornate mahogany chair, a cup of hot tea cradled in his hands. He sipped slowly, savoring the quality. Madam Gao always kept excellent tea on hand.
The base construction had forced a delay in his plans. Three days, David had promised. Three days to excavate an exit passage capable of accommodating a Valkyrie assault carrier. Underground engineering at its finest.
So Nolan waited. And used the time productively, inspecting Madam Gao's operations.
The door opened with a soft creak of hinges.
Madam Gao entered, her white hair immaculate, her expression neutral. She crossed the room quickly and dropped to her knees before Nolan without hesitation.
Nolan set down his teacup with a quiet clink of porcelain.
"You don't need to kneel every time we meet," he said, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement. "Just give me the status report."
"Yes, my lord." Madam Gao rose smoothly, straightening to her full height. Her posture was perfect, spine straight, hands folded.
"Most of the New York underworld has submitted to your authority. Through your messenger's guidance—" she meant David, Nolan noted "—those criminals who murdered innocents have been quietly eliminated. Operations involving human trafficking and narcotics distribution have been shut down entirely."
She paused, her expression unchanging.
"However, my lord, this righteousness comes at a cost. Your annual revenue will decrease by approximately sixty percent. What remains comes primarily from legitimate business interests."
Nolan nodded slowly. David understood him well. The automaton had implemented a scorched-earth policy on the worst criminal enterprises, damn the financial consequences.
It aligned with Nolan's thinking perfectly. If the conquered gangs continued business as usual, what was the point of killing Kingpin? He might as well have left the status quo intact.
"What about luxury goods smuggling?" Nolan asked. "And weapons trafficking? Those can continue. There's demand regardless, and that revenue shouldn't be wasted." He paused, considering. "The legitimate businesses will need proper management too. People who understand commerce, not just muscle. Actually, have David recruit talent for that. He'll do better than either of us."
He leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled.
"Also, use the consolidation as cover to move against other gangs still trafficking narcotics. Hit them hard. Take their territory. And use those operations to train our people. Let them gain experience through combat."
Madam Gao bowed slightly.
"My lord, we are already engaged in such warfare. With the Hand. Most battles occur in hidden locations, fought by gang elites, which has prevented official attention thus far."
Nolan's eyebrows rose. "The Hand? Those ninjas? I think I killed one of their leaders."
"You killed Murakami, my lord. One of the Hand's five Fingers. I am another. Three remain." Madam Gao's voice was perfectly level. "The war I launched against Kingpin disrupted their excavation for dragon bones. They've retaliated accordingly."
"Dragon bones?" Nolan leaned forward, interest piqued. The term was new.
Madam Gao raised one delicate hand to her face, fingers tracing along her cheek.
"The skeletal remains of a mysterious ancient creature. When properly prepared through ritual, consuming dragon bone grants extended life. Immortality, essentially." She gestured to herself. "I am over four hundred years old, my lord. Yet my body remains young."
Nolan studied her with renewed attention. The white hair contrasted sharply with her unlined face, smooth skin, and vigorous posture. The combination was striking once you knew what to look for.
But his expression showed calculation rather than excitement.
"Side effects?"
"Like any drug, the effect is temporary. Every year, sometimes sooner, one must consume more dragon bone. Miss a treatment, and all the accumulated time returns at once." Her tone remained clinical. "Based on documented cases, those who fail to maintain their regimen age four centuries in seconds. Then they crumble to dust."
She'd revealed her deepest secret without hesitation.
Nolan's lips curved into a cold smile.
"Then we'll take their remaining supply. Even if we never use it, denying it to the Hand has strategic value."
"Yes, my lord." Madam Gao bowed again. "What are your immediate plans? Would you like to review the forces currently engaged with the Hand? Or inspect the weapons cache you requested? Your firearms are stored and ready."
Nolan stood, rising to his full height. He towered over Madam Gao by more than a head, his enhanced physique making the difference even more pronounced.
He rolled his shoulders, working out the stiffness from sitting.
"Let's see these subordinates of mine. I want to know what I'm working with."
Training Grounds - Gao's Chamber of Commerce
Nolan stood in the center of the rubber-floored training area, expressionless.
In his hand, lifted with casual ease, was a heavily muscled white man. The man outweighed Nolan by at least thirty pounds of solid bulk, but he might as well have been a child for all the resistance he offered.
Nolan tossed him.
The man flew several meters through the air before crashing down onto the training mat. The impact drove the breath from his lungs in a pained wheeze. His face flushed red as he struggled to inhale.
He lay there for long seconds, stunned. Finally, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows.
The look he gave Nolan held newfound fear. And grudging respect.
"I yield," he gasped out.
Nolan stopped his advance and stood still, feet planted. His eyes swept across the gathered men, all of them muscular, all of them hardened criminals, all of them suddenly uncertain.
"Anyone else want to challenge me?" His voice was quiet. Controlled.
Silence.
The gang members looked at each other, but no one stepped forward. They'd all tried already. They'd all failed. Some more painfully than others.
Finally, a lean man with Slavic features hesitated, then stepped out from the group. He approached cautiously, like someone approaching a dangerous animal.
"Boss," he said carefully, "you've already beaten everyone here. I don't think anyone's got the stones to try again."
Nolan turned to study him. "Name?"
"Franky, boss. They call me Franky."
"You've got more courage than the rest, speaking up like that." Nolan stepped forward and placed one hand on Franky's shoulder. The weight of it made the smaller man tense. "Congratulations. You're now captain of this unit. Think you can handle that?"
Franky's eyes widened, then lit up with excitement and ambition. He straightened his posture immediately.
"Yes, sir! Absolutely, sir!"
"Good." Nolan raised his voice, addressing the entire group. "Everyone here just got a pay raise. Double what you were making before."
Excited murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Of course," Nolan continued, his tone hardening, "that's assuming you survive the upcoming battles. So I'd suggest you train hard and watch each other's backs."
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"Try to stay alive, gentlemen. I'd hate to waste the investment."
He turned and walked out of the training ground without a backward glance, leaving behind a room full of men whose morale had just skyrocketed.
For criminals with blood on their hands and complicated pasts, the approach was simple. Overwhelming force to establish dominance. Then rewards to ensure loyalty.
It worked every time.
As he walked away, Nolan murmured something under his breath, too quiet for anyone nearby to hear.
"Let you, the scum of yesterday, become the foundation for humanity's tomorrow."
The words were lost in the cheering behind him.
He had an army now. Small, rough, untested. But it was a start.
And every empire began somewhere.