Hightown was perched above the chaotic streets of Lowtown, giving a stark contrast to the poverty stricken environment below. As the place where all of the richest and most influential Madripoor had to offer stayed, Hightown was naturally glittered with opulence.
Vendors couldn't be seen anywhere. Instead, the streets were wide and held stores that were owned or sponsored by the Syndicates & other persons with influence in Madripoor.
Luxury cars purred softly along the roads, protected by squadrons of syndicate members, all of whom were armed with rifles and trained to fire at the slightest potential of danger to their bosses.
HighTown catered to the elite,, criminal kingpins, international moguls, and corrupt politicians, offering them a sanctuary where they could conduct business and indulge their vices in style.
Currently in this symbol of corrupted wealth, a meeting was beginning between the Dragon Fang Syndicate & the Yashida Clan in one of HighTown's crown jewels, a building that exuded luxury.
The meeting was held in a penthouse conference room near the top floor. At every floor of the building, members from both organizations were armed and on lookout, ready to kill anyone who attempted to break in.
In that penthouse conference room, it was reeking of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey, and gathered around a long, luxury ebony table was the leaders of two of Madripoor's most infamous syndicates.
The Dragon Fang's leader, Dmitri Volkov, was a hulking brute of a man with a scar slicing across his bald head. His massive arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes scrutinizing everyone in the room.
A Dragon tattoo coiled up his neck, the symbol of his organization.
Across from him sat Takashi Yashida, the eldest son of the Yashida Clan patriarch. Slim and sharp-featured, Takashi exuded an air of cold arrogance. His tailored suit and polished demeanor sharply contrasted with Dmitri's rough exterior. Despite his composed exterior, his fingers tapped the table rhythmically, betraying his unease.
The room was filled with their respective lieutenants and trusted enforcers, all armed to the teeth. Despite their supposed "truce," tension crackled in the air like a storm about to break.
Dmitri broke the silence first, his voice a low growl. "So, Yashida, care to explain why your clan suddenly forgot the rules and started encroaching on my turf?"
Takashi's lips curled into a faint smirk, "Bold accusation, Volkov. Perhaps you should consider whether your own men are losing control before pointing fingers."
Dmitri slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the empty glasses and scattering ash from a nearby tray, "Don't play coy with me! My warehouses got raided last night, and all of my men working there died. Don't you DARE tell me it's all just a coincidence."
Takashi's gaze hardened, his hand drifting toward the ornate katana resting beside him, "Watch your tone, Volkov. You're not the only one whose operations have been hit. Our shipments were hijacked yesterday too, and the other city leaders are already whispering about this. Never mind in LowTown, our operations got stuffed by this...'High Table.' they call themselves. We're both losing control."
The room erupted into a cacophony of accusations and threats as lieutenants from both sides jumped into the fray. Hands hovered near holsters, and the metallic clicks of safeties being switched off filled the air.
Dmitri stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Enough!" he roared, silencing the room. He pointed a thick finger at Takashi, "You think this 'High Table' nonsense is real? Some ghost story to scare kids. They're a scapegoat at best, you think so many skilled people, with so much resources would appear here and none of us would notice? IT'S A PLOY!"
Takashi remained seated, his expression unchanging as he didn't get triggered by Dmitri's angered reaction, "Ghost story or not, the consequences are real. Whoever they are, they've dismantled your operations in Lowtown, disrupted my supply lines, and taken out some of the best men in Madripoor without leaving a trace."
A voice piped up from Dmitri's side of the table—a wiry man with a patch over one eye, "They hit the marketplace too. Killed our collectors. But the people there... they weren't scared. They were relieved. Like they already knew the High Table would protect them."
Another man, this one from Takashi's side, chimed in. "There's talk on the street too. Vendors saying the High Table doesn't take bribes or protection fees. They don't extort. They just... clean up."
Dmitri barked out a harsh laugh. "Clean up? Madripoor doesn't need a savior. Whoever these fools are, they're a threat to us both. And threats need to be eliminated."
Takashi nodded slowly. "For once, Volkov, we agree. But charging in blind will only get more of our people killed. We need to learn who they are, what they want, and how they operate."
The room fell into a contemplative silence. Despite their mutual hatred, the two leaders recognized the necessity of working together—at least for now.
Dmitri leaned forward, his voice a low rumble, "Fine. We pool our resources. My men will keep watch on Lowtown. You cover Hightown. We find their weak spot, and then..." He let the threat hang in the air.
Takashi inclined his head, "Agreed. But understand this, Volkov: the moment this High Table is dealt with, our truce ends."
Before Dmitri could respond, the room's lights flickered off, and everything plunged into absolute darkness, leaving everyone practically blind for the moment.
The sudden loss of light sent a ripple of panic through the gathered syndicate members. Shouts and curses filled the air as flashlights clicked on, their beams cutting through the blackness.
"What the hell is going on?" Dmitri bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls as he pulled out his own handgun and aimed it across the room into the darkness, ready to shoot anything that moved too close to him.
A faint hum filled the room, followed by a mechanical click. Then came the sound of boots, soft, deliberate, and impossibly synchronized.
"Show yourselves!" Takashi demanded, unsheathing his katana with a sharp metallic hiss as he stared around the room intently, ready to strike at any moment.
A single red laser dot appeared on the chest of one of Dmitri's men. Before anyone could react, a silenced gunshot rang out, and the man crumpled to the floor, his gun falling under the table as blood seeped out of his bullet-wound.
"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" Dmitri reacted immediately, moving to take any bit of cover he could as chaos instantly erupted across the room, bullets whizzing by continuously now.
With fear striking their bodies and no answers given, the members of the syndicates just started blindly firing into the darkness, their gunfire lighting up the room in a brief, strobe-like flash.
However, the attackers were like Ghosts. They couldn't be seen, couldn't be hit, yet their attacks were lethal & ferocious, constantly reaping the lives of their prey without fail.
Yelena Belova stepped into the room like a phantom, her sleek black tactical suit blending seamlessly with the darkness. Her HeadHunter pistol was a blur as she fired, each shot finding its mark with deadly precision and bringing another one down.
"Clear the room," Yelena ordered, her voice calm but commanding.
Behind her, a squad of elite Black Widows flooded the space, their movements calculated and methodical. They moved like predators, eliminating targets with brutal efficiency.
One Widow lunged at a syndicate lieutenant, her knife slicing through his throat in a single, fluid motion. Another used a grappling hook to yank a man from his hiding spot, snapping his neck before he hit the ground.
Dmitri roared, charging at Yelena with a metal pipe in hand after he ran out of ammo, none of it working on the attackers. Yelena sidestepped his wild swing effortlessly, delivering a swift kick to his knee that sent him crashing to the floor.
"You should have stayed in your hole," Yelena said coldly, planting a bullet between his eyes that sent him on a first-class trip to hell.
Takashi, meanwhile, fought with the precision of a samurai, his katana slicing through the air as he tried to fend off the attackers, however, he couldn't hit any of them no matter how he tried.
Soon enough, a pair of Widows disarmed him with ease and Yelena approached him slowly, her pistol aimed at his heart, "The High Table sends its regards," she said, pulling the trigger without hesitation, sending him alongside Dmitri.
Within minutes, the room was silent once more. The bodies of the Dragon Fang and Yashida leaders lay scattered among their men, the floor slick with blood.
Yelena holstered her weapon and tapped her earpiece. "A.N.G.E.L., the operation is complete. Both syndicates have been neutralized."
A.N.G.E.L.'s voice crackled in her ear, "Excellent work, Agent Belova. Extraction team is en route. Leave no trace."
The Widows moved swiftly, collecting weapons, wiping down surfaces, and ensuring no evidence of their presence remained.
As Yelena exited the building, she glanced back at the carnage with a faint smirk. The High Table's message was clear: Madripoor belonged to them now.
And anyone who dared to challenge that would meet the same fate.