Dasha Pang sat alone, jacket on his chair and the white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the sharp lines of his forearms. Before him lay a sprawling map of the Underground, the network of streets and alleys drawn with a pencil. His mask was put to the side. His fingers traced the outlines of the different neighborhoods.
The Sukhothai was a maze of commerce, crime, and opportunity. Five kilometers long with warriors at every turn, it was no surprise that most areas were untouched by the explosions and attacks. By now, the Underground called it the Black Wolves Disaster.
Where was he now? Not the factory. No, five days had passed and while the smoke bomb factory was greatly fortified, it also presented too big of a target. Too many witnesses, too many workers.
Dasha was a shadow and he meant to keep it that way until he gained further power.
