Tyrone sat in his penthouse office, the glow of the city lights reflecting off the windows behind him. He was leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled, deep in thought as he stared at the map of the country displayed on the large screen on the wall. Jamal stood beside him, arms crossed, equally focused on the problem at hand.
"How the hell we supposed to move 15 tons, man? Our territory ain't nearly big enough to handle that," Jamal said, shaking his head.
Tyrone's eyes narrowed as he studied the various regions on the map. The sheer volume of cocaine they had now demanded more than just their current operations. It required expansion—territory beyond their usual stomping grounds. "We need to think bigger," Tyrone finally said, his voice calm but firm.
Jamal raised an eyebrow, curious but cautious. "Bigger, huh? You talkin' about steppin' into other cities? You know that's gonna piss a lot of people off. These other gangs, they ain't just gonna roll over and let us take over."
Tyrone nodded slowly, already ahead in his thinking. "We ain't takin' over, Jamal. That ain't the move. We're gonna supply 'em. We ain't gotta control their streets, but we sure as hell can control their supply. They want product, we give it to them—on our terms."
Jamal smirked, beginning to see where Tyrone was going with the plan. "So you're thinkin' we make them dependent on our coke. We flood their markets with our supply, and soon they're hooked on the cash flow. Once they start movin' our product, we got leverage."
"Exactly," Tyrone said, tapping the map. "We reach out to these gangs, make 'em an offer. They move our coke, they make money, we make money. And if they don't wanna play nice…" Tyrone's eyes darkened for a moment. "Well, then we handle it a different way."
Jamal grinned, knowing Tyrone had no problem with handling things "the hard way" if needed. "Who you think we hit up first?"
Tyrone leaned forward, pointing to a few key cities on the map: Chicago, Miami, Houston, and Los Angeles. "These are the places we start. Each of these cities got gangs runnin' their own territories, and they already got infrastructure to move product. We reach out to the bosses, set up meetings, and offer them a deal they can't refuse."
Jamal nodded, but there was still a hint of concern in his voice. "You know this is gonna put us on the radar more, right? The feds, other cartels… hell, even Miguel might not like us goin' this wide."
Tyrone smirked, already knowing the risks but confident in his connections. "Let 'em come. We got too much power behind us now. Isabella Mendoza's connections in politics give us a shield. As long as we play our cards right, no one's gonna touch us. Not Miguel, not the feds, nobody."
Jamal scratched his chin, considering the weight of the plan. "Alright, boss. But we gotta be smart about this. We gotta make sure these other gangs know it's business, not war."
Tyrone stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the dimly lit room. He grabbed his phone and started scrolling through contacts. "I'll make the calls. Set up meetings with these gang leaders. We'll make 'em understand that workin' with us is the best decision they'll ever make. They don't want a war with us, Jamal. Not after what we did to Los Ballas."
Jamal chuckled darkly. "Yeah, word about that massacre's still fresh in people's minds. Ain't nobody gonna wanna test us after that."
Tyrone's face hardened, his mind already working out the logistics. "Good. Then it's time we make our move. By the end of the month, we're gonna have this whole damn country movin' our product. We're gonna be untouchable."
Jamal nodded, ready to execute whatever needed to be done. "I'll get the crew ready. Let's do this."
As Tyrone began dialing the first number, the weight of what they were about to accomplish hung heavy in the air. This was no small operation—they were about to take over the nation's drug trade, piece by piece, gang by gang. Tyrone knew that with the right moves, they'd not only be rich but also unstoppable.
Tyrone was sitting back in his chair, legs kicked up on the desk as he scanned the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. His mind was on his next move when his phone rang, the number unrecognized. He paused for a second before answering.
"Who this?" Tyrone asked, his voice cool but direct.
There was a brief silence on the other end before a female voice responded, smooth and calculated. "Tyrone… I've heard a lot about you."
Tyrone sat up, narrowing his eyes. "Who's calling?"
The voice chuckled softly, the sound of someone who was used to being in control. "Isabella. Isabella Rodrigo."
Tyrone didn't react immediately, but his eyes flicked to the name on the phone. He wasn't familiar with her directly, but the name Rodrigo carried weight in the underworld. Isabella was the heir to the Rodrigo cartel, a powerful force south of the border.
He leaned forward, tapping a pen against the desk as the silence stretched. "And? What you want, Isabella?"
"I'm calling to discuss your little… takeover. You've been making quite the mess with my supply chains in the US. The massacre of Los Ballas? That impacted more than just a local gang. You've hurt my operations, and I don't take kindly to that."
Tyrone, unimpressed, cut her off, his voice sharp. "I don't give a damn 'bout your operations or who you are. Whatever you losin', that's your problem. You callin' me thinkin' I'm 'bout to give you an apology or somethin'?"
Isabella chuckled again, a bit more amusement in her tone now. "I see you're as bold as they say. But, Tyrone, I don't need your apology. You'll be hearing from me soon enough. I'm just giving you a courtesy call… to let you know I'll be paying you a visit."
Tyrone's expression didn't change, but his mind was racing. He'd just told Jamal they were untouchable, but now this? A powerful cartel leader wanted to meet him. The stakes just went up, but Tyrone wasn't going to show any sign of weakness.
"Come through, then," Tyrone said coldly. "Just know, you step into my city, you better be ready to play by my rules."
"I wouldn't dream of it any other way," Isabella replied, her tone a mix of menace and charm. "We'll speak soon, Tyrone."
The line went dead. Tyrone slowly lowered the phone, his mind immediately shifting gears. He didn't know exactly what Isabella Rodrigo wanted, but one thing was certain—he wasn't going to back down.
He glanced at Jamal, who was standing by the door, having overheard the conversation. "We got another one to deal with."
Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Who's she?"
"Isabella Rodrigo. Cartel. She's mad 'cause we're messin' with her supply chains. She said she's gonna pay us a visit."
Jamal shook his head. "Man, this just keeps getting deeper."
Tyrone smirked. "Good. Let her come. I'll show her the same thing I showed everyone else who tries to step up. We ain't just runnin' the streets, Jamal. We takin' over."