The setting of the sun bathed the rooftops of LowTown in a cool amber glow, that casted long shadows across the buildings below. On one such rooftop, a teenage girl was perched on the edge, her legs dangling over the side.
Her dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few rebellious strands framing her freckled face, and a battered old smartphone was pressed to her ear, "Kiana, certifica-te que chegas a casa ao anoitecer." the voice came from the other side.
"Sim, mamã, não te preocupes." The girl, Kiana responded, before a new, male voice came over the phone.
"Why are you staying out so long?" The voice asked.
"You won't believe it, Papa," Kiana said, her voice light with a mix of excitement and disbelief. "I saw one of the Big Sisters take down a guy twice her size yesterday. He was shouting about how this was 'his street,' and she just... flipped him onto the ground like it was nothing."
On the other end of the line, her father's voice crackled through the speaker. "Kiana, I've taught you better than this. Don't trust anyone, those people just arrived, who know what their intentions are."
Kiana smirked, swinging her legs lazily, "Well, I believe them. Didn't Big Sis Katerina even stopped by Mom's shop this morning. She said things are going to get even better soon." Her tone grew softer, almost reverent. "For the first time, it feels... safe here, you know?"
As the conversation meandered on, Kiana's eyes caught movement on the street below, a familiar figure, clad in the sleek black tactical uniform that had become a symbol of quiet authority in LowTown.
Katerina, one of the Big Sisters, was making her rounds. Kiana smiled to herself and cut off the phone call, standing up and brushing off the dust off her jeans as he looked across the City.
"Get down from there Kiana," Before she could even react, Katerina had already locked gazes with her, calling for her to come down.
"Está bem, está bem. Desço num instante." Kiana said in Portuguese, and quickly made her way down the building, spotting Katerina still waiting for her.
"Still patrolling Big Sis?" Kiana asked, her hand clinging to the older woman's as they walked across the street.
"My shift ends soon. The High Table doesn't overwork us. Morgana will take over. How have you been?" Katerina asked to the cute teenager clinging to her.
"Of course, you guys have helped so much." Kiana said, thinking back to the changes that have occurred over the past week.
Compared to previously, the streets of LowTown no longer echoed with gunshots and roars of pain at night, nor were they haunted by the screams of those caught in the crossfire of gang wars. The oppressive banners of syndicate control, painted in blood and fear, had been torn down.
Instead, a new power was in place, called 'The High Table.' No-one knew much about them or their motives, but they had protected everyone in LowTown and were taking down many of the syndicates, earning the trust of most.
All day and night, enforcers of the High Table would be patrolling the streets, and Katerina was one of them, whom Kiana had more than a few run ins with on her daily escapades across the city for fun.
"You should come by, you know mama is making egg rolls at her shop tonight." Kiana said as they walked closer to her home, puffing her chest out.
Katerina chuckled, glancing up and down the street. "I might. But only if you don't burn them like last time."
Kiana stuck out her tongue playfully and skipped down the street, her heart light. Seeing Katerina there gave her a sense of security she'd never felt before. The 'Big Sisters,' as the locals had come to call the Black Widows patrolling Lowtown, were fierce protectors.
Katerina, in particular, had become a kind of guardian angel for Kiana's family. A few weeks ago, when a disgruntled former syndicate thug had tried to shake down the breakfast shop,
Katerina had intervened. She'd dealt with him so swiftly and silently that Kiana still wasn't sure what had happened. All she knew was that the thug hadn't returned, and her family hadn't paid a single protection fee since.
When Kiana arrived, her mother's shop was already bustling, her mother was frying dumplings while her father tinkering with the coffee machine that had certainly seen better days.
The small space smelled of soy sauce, garlic, and the faint metallic tang of engine grease clinging to her father's overalls.
"Kiana, finalmente chegaste." her mother said, handing her a tray of freshly fried rolls, "Leva isto para a mesa junto à janela, por favor."
Kiana nodded, weaving through the narrow space to deliver the food. The shop had a steady stream of customers, most of them locals who had lived in Lowtown for years.
Today, however, there were also new faces, strangers with sharp eyes and quiet demeanors. Kiana had noticed more of these people lately. They weren't from Lowtown; their clean clothes and confident air gave them away.
"They're with the High Table," her father had whispered to her, nervous as he saw them sitting in the store.
As Kiana returned to the counter, a conversation caught her ear. Two men were huddled over bowls of steaming noodles, their voices low but urgent.
"They took out the Dragon Fang and the Yashida Clan in one night," one man said, glancing around nervously.
"The High Table?" the other asked.
The first man nodded. "I heard they wiped them out completely. No survivors. And they didn't just kill them—they sent a message. No more syndicates, no more corruption. Lowtown belongs to the people now."
Kiana's heart swelled. The rumors were spreading, and with them, a new sense of hope. She'd grown up believing that Madripoor would always be a place where the strong preyed on the weak, where families like hers were at the mercy of ruthless gangs. But now, for the first time, she dared to dream of something better.
****************
Meanwhile, across Madripoor.
The dim light inside a decrepit building flickered, casting erratic shadows across the blood-smeared walls and broken furniture. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of death, mingled with the faint scent of gunpowder and scorched fabric.
Bodies lay scattered across the floor, some crumpled against overturned tables, others slumped in corners where they had tried, and failed, to escape.
Yelena stood in the center of the carnage, her black tactical suit glinting with streaks of crimson. Her short, blonde hair clung to her sweat-dampened face, and her breathing was slow but steady, the adrenaline from the fight beginning to ebb.
She flipped her knife in her hand, a blade still dripping with fresh blood, and turned to the last remaining syndicate member cowering against the wall.
The man trembled as he clutched his side, blood oozing between his fingers. "Please... I'll leave. I'll disappear. You'll never see me again."
Yelena tilted her head, her green eyes cold and unflinching, "Disappear? No. That's not how this works."
Without hesitation, she stepped forward, plunging the knife into his chest with a practiced efficiency. His body went limp instantly, collapsing to the floor with a dull thud. Yelena wiped the blade on his sleeve, returning it to the sheath on her thigh.
She tapped a comm device in her ear, her voice steady despite the brutality surrounding her. "Maxim, this is Belova. The Yashida Clan is gone. Completely wiped out. The Dragon Fang too."
A brief silence crackled over the line before Maxim's deep voice responded, "Good. You've done well, Yelena. Time to consolidate and take over. The World Governments are already sniffing around after the communication went done. We need to take over immediately."
Yelena chuckled, stepping over a body as she made her way to the exit. "Understood, I'll clean up here and head to the next target. Anything else?"
"For now, rest. The High Table will take care of the rest of the loose ends."
As the line went silent, Yelena pushed open the heavy door and stepped out into the night. The cool air hit her like a balm, washing away some of the stench of death clinging to her.
She looked down the empty street, the faint hum of activity in the distance a stark contrast to the stillness behind her.
She tightened the straps of her gear and began walking, her figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving only the grim scene inside as a testament to the High Table's unrelenting grip on Madripoor's future.