I'm sorry for being slightly inactive these past few days, I have a lot of fun planned for the next few chapters. Which I am looking forward to :)
The city's atmosphere had changed in the past few days. Rumors of crime scenes, police lights flashing in the dead of night, and a potential gang war were spreading like wildfire.
The news that morning came with chilling updates—"Police Investigate a Series of Brutal Murders in the North End." The screen showed reporters standing near police barricades, with detectives examining the scene in the background. Officers provided vague details, hinting that the recent deaths might be connected. Phrases like "gang-related" and "targeted attacks" were being thrown around.
Liam stood at the corner of a small convenience store, watching the TV behind the cashier's counter. The news anchor's voice was calm, showing how used he was to narrating horror.
"...police are currently investigating if these incidents are linked to ongoing gang activities. The latest victims were found near an abandoned warehouse, they were reported to be a 37 year old male and....''
Liam took a breath and stepped outside into the cold winter air. He had to be more careful now—the more attention the police paid to these deaths, the riskier his task became. But this wouldn't stop him. He needed to keep pushing, and he needed to do it his way.
The Yakuza presence in the city had grown bolder, extorting small businesses and intimidating the innocent. They thought no one could touch them. It was time to change that.
In the middle of the night, Liam was hidden atop an old building, crouched down, his eyes following a small group of three Yakuza members walking below. Their conversation was a mixture of laughter and low mutterings. They were relaxed—unaware that someone was following them.
Liam followed them around a corner into a darker, quieter street, staying in the shadows to avoid being seen until they were far enough from the crowded parts of the city. He stayed in the shadows, making sure no one spotted him until they were far enough from the crowded parts of the city.
One of the men paused, fumbling with his lighter as he attempted to light a cigarette. Liam saw his opportunity. Without hesitation, he dropped silently from the fire escape, landing softly behind the rearmost man. In one swift motion, he grabbed him from behind, muffling his scream before snapping his neck and lowering him to the ground without a sound.
The second man turned around, the cigarette still dangling from his lips. His eyes widened at the sight of Liam, but he had no time to react. A heavy punch struck his jaw, sending him against a brick wall. The third thug, seeing his friends drop like flies, stumbled backward, reaching for a knife.
"No chance," Liam muttered, as he caught the thug's wrist and twisted it. The knife fell, and a knee to the ribs sent the man to the ground, gasping for air.
Liam stood over him, eyes narrowed. "Where's your boss?" he demanded. The thug stared up at him, trembling, his lips quivering without making a sound. Liam could see the fear in the man's eyes, but the thug still chose to remain silent.
Without hesitation, he snapped the man's neck, leaving the three bodies in silence. They were all the same—a threat that needed elimination. Another corner of the streets that needed cleaning.
Days passed, and the mood among the Yakuza began to shift. The leader, Hiroshi Sato, sat in his office, his face twisted in a scowl as he listened to yet another report of missing members.
"This makes twelve in the past week," one of his lieutenants said, his voice low, afraid to speak too loudly. Hiroshi's fingers tapped on his desk, tension growing in the room.
"Twelve in a week," Hiroshi repeated slowly, as though tasting the words. He stared at the man in front of him, eyes narrowing. "And you have no idea who's responsible?"
The lieutenant shook his head, avoiding eye contact. "We've searched, boss. No one has seen or heard anything. It's like they just vanish."
Hiroshi gritted his teeth in anger. "This is unacceptable. We cannot afford to show weakness to the other gangs. We need to be ready. Recall all higher-ups and every capable member. Increase security at key points. I want everyone back at the main hideout. No more splitting up."
He leaned back as he glanced towards the wall on the left side of the room—a wall adorned with maps of the neighborhood and photos of rival gangs. This was his territory. Whoever was picking off his men was making a mistake, and Hiroshi was ready to make an example out of them.
The streets were quieter now. Liam noticed the difference immediately. The smaller groups of Yakuza that used to roam freely had vanished, replaced by fewer but larger patrols. The ones that remained moved in packs, at least six or more at a time, their eyes looking around nervously at every corner.
Liam knew what this meant thanks to a lower-level grunt; they were regrouping, pulling back to wherever they felt safest. It was a strategic move, but it also gave an opportunity. It meant the most dangerous men were all cornered in one place.
During his latest raid, Liam grabbed one of the lower-level grunts, slamming him against a wall. "Where's your boss?" he demanded.
The thug coughed, spitting blood, his eyes wide with panic. "I—I don't know," he gasped. "Only the higher-ups know where the hideout is. They don't tell us anything!"
Liam stared at him for a moment, then dropped him to the ground before swiftly ending his life. Another body left behind, another problem solved. He had learned enough to confirm his suspicion: the real action was at their main hideout, and only their upper members had access to it.
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Liam's efficiency had increased. He moved quicker now, each raid becoming training in precision and control. His awareness had sharpened; he could see the direction of a gunshot before it was fired, dodging them with ease due to frequent close calls with gang members. The Yakuza might have thought they were safe with their numbers, but he was becoming something far more dangerous with each fight he had.
That night, during a raid on another Yakuza safehouse, Liam found the lead he had been waiting for. Among the files and cash was a folder—photos, videos, all containing a series of kidnappings. Children with tears streaming down their cheeks. The images were brutal, but they were also proof—proof of the Yakuza's cruelty and proof of where they were keeping the hostages.
He flipped through the photos, his jaw tightening at the sight of the frightened, pained faces. Liam clenched his fists, the image of a small child bound in chains flashing through his mind. He knew where they would be, and he knew it was time to finish what he started.