The Vice Mayor sat at the head of a polished mahogany table in his private office, high above the bustling streets of the city. His face was a mask of barely-contained fury, fingers drumming a sharp rhythm against the table's edge. The room, thick with the smoke of expensive cigars, held the five remaining masterminds. Their expressions ranged from anger to cold calculation, but all shared one common thread: humiliation. Dio had turned their carefully laid plans into ash, and the sting of failure burned deep.
"It's clear," the Vice Mayor began, his voice slicing through the tense silence, "this boy is more dangerous than we anticipated."
They began by tightening their grip on the slum's perimeter. Orders went out to city law enforcement, most of whom were in the Vice Mayor's pocket. Patrols doubled, and curfews were imposed under the guise of "maintaining public order."
"We'll starve him out," muttered one of the masterminds, a grizzled man with scars etched across his face. "Cut off his supplies, his reinforcements. Make him desperate."
The Vice Mayor nodded but added, "Desperation makes men unpredictable. We need precision."
Their precision came in the form of an informant—an embedded operative who had long gone unnoticed by Dio's watchful shadow. The operative, a woman known only as "Lark," received a simple directive: infiltrate Dio's inner circle and deliver his movements back to them. The masterminds trusted her implicitly; she had proven her loyalty through blood.
The Vice Mayor turned his attention to a phone resting in a soundproof glass case on his desk. It was old, rotary-style, but the number it connected to was priceless. He lifted the receiver and dialed. The line clicked once, then silence.
"Activate the Busters," he said. His voice betrayed no hesitation, though he knew the cost of their services was astronomical.
The Busters were monsters in human form, immune to gunfire and capable of demolishing steel-reinforced buildings with ease. They weren't subtle, but subtlety wasn't the goal. Their mere presence was meant to send a message: resistance was futile.
"Send two to the slum to bait him," the Vice Mayor instructed. "Keep the others in reserve. If Dio resists, they'll level his slum to the ground."
The masterminds gathered around a sprawling map of the slum, their fingers tracing streets and alleys. Every move Dio had made was analyzed, every trap he had sprung dissected with meticulous care.
"He thinks like a predator," said one of them, a woman with sharp eyes and sharper wit. "He watches, waits, strikes from the shadows. If we want to catch him, we have to disrupt his rhythm."
To this end, they deployed decoys—several teams of expendable operatives who would pose as spies or informants. Each was fed conflicting information about the masterminds' plans, designed to confuse Dio and force him to second-guess his shadow-fed intelligence.
"Let him think he's ahead," the Vice Mayor said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "We'll lead him straight into the jaws of the Busters."
The masterminds knew Dio's strength wasn't just physical—it was his ability to manipulate and inspire fear. They sought to turn that against him. Flyers began appearing across the slum, depicting Dio as a tyrant who sacrificed his own people to protect himself. Stories spread of brutal betrayals and fabricated executions.
"Divide his people," the Vice Mayor instructed. "Make them question his leadership. Without loyalty, he's just another thug."
To reinforce the illusion, they arranged for small raids on the slum by mercenaries posing as Dio's forces. The attacks were swift and brutal, targeting the vulnerable. Survivors were left with one message: Dio cannot protect you.
The final piece of their strategy was a trap—a staged "weak point" designed to lure Dio out of hiding. Using the information fed by Lark, they crafted a scenario too tempting for him to ignore: a shipment of weapons supposedly destined for the slum's oppressors.
"Make it believable," the Vice Mayor warned. "He won't take the bait if it looks too easy."
The shipment was left lightly guarded, with whispers of its arrival "leaked" through channels Dio's shadow would inevitably intercept. In reality, it was a setup. Hidden among the crates were surveillance drones and remote-triggered explosives, along with the two Busters lying in wait.
"This time," the Vice Mayor said, leaning back in his chair, "when he moves, we'll crush him. No more games."
As the masterminds finalized their plans, the Vice Mayor stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. The slum sprawled in the distance, its chaotic streets barely visible through the smog. He clenched his fists, his reflection a picture of grim determination.
"Dio thinks he's untouchable," he muttered, more to himself than to the others. "We'll show him what happens to anyone who defies us."
The others nodded, their expressions cold. The battle lines were drawn.