Notting Hill was a city that had historically seen a massive influx of corporate investment. Major conglomerates and international developers had poured billions into the region over the years, drawn by a variety of economic incentives and strategic zoning laws. However, there was a stark, geographical disparity to this wealth; the high-end investments, polished glass high-rises, and gentrified districts were all strictly concentrated within the central core of the city.
The older infrastructure projects and ambitious commercial developments that had originally been slated for the outskirts of the city and the expanding suburban areas had been abruptly abandoned when corporate funding dried up. When the global recession had hit the financial sectors, investors abandoned speculative, long-term suburban projects in favor of reliable, low-risk assets in the central business district. Because of this sudden shift in capital, multiple high-profile construction projects across the periphery were left completely derelict.
Half-finished building sites, skeletal shopping malls, and multi-story concrete car parks sat rotting in the elements. In one particularly isolated sector of the outer suburbs, there lay an abandoned retail park where a single car wasn’t in sight. The asphalt was cracked and overgrown with weeds because the commercial development had been halted before it could ever open its doors to the public.
The anchor store of the complex was basically an empty concrete shell on the outside, devoid of any logo or signage. Inside the hollow supermarket itself, a few cracked tiles remained glued to the floor, but there was next to nothing else. The interior was completely gutted, leaving nothing but a exposed metal framework and the rust-damaged scraps of a metallic roof hanging high overhead.
In the center of this desolate, echoing space, a single individual had brought out a cheap plastic chair. He sat on it patiently in the gloom, methodically adjusting the strap of his tactical glove to ensure a perfect, tight fit.
The sharp, echoing sound of footsteps soon reverberated through the cavernous room, signaling an arrival. A moment later, Donto Stern stepped into view. He hadn’t come alone; walking directly by his side was a personal security guard wearing a tailored black suit and dark sunglasses, his posture rigid and professional.
"Did you really think there was a pressing need to bring your private security personnel with you to a meeting of this nature?" Dud asked, not even looking up from his glove as his voice echoed off the concrete walls. "I sat under the impression that we had established a baseline of trust."
"I don’t trust you," Donto countered flatly, stopping a few paces away. "Let’s not confuse the situation. We are simply two individuals who happen to share the exact same tactical goal. After this operation is finalized and Max is broken, I am going back to doing whatever I want, and you can do whatever the hell you want."
"Well, if this was the kind of high-level enforcement job that your standard corporate bodyguards were capable of handling, then we wouldn’t have a logical reason to meet in a graveyard like this," Dud said, a condescending smirk playing on his lips as he finally stood up from his plastic chair. "The people you will be meeting today are going to be capable of effortlessly breaking that guard of yours into pieces."
A thick vein on the side of the bodyguard’s temple visibly throbbed at the insult. Despite the blatant disrespect, the professional kept his mouth shut, maintaining his stance and refusing to say anything out of line.
"You said we needed overwhelming numbers to crush Max’s infrastructure, right?" Donto said, his voice rising as he tried to reclaim his authority. "My primary role in this alliance is to provide the raw numbers—the foot soldiers. The street dealers, the muscle, and the campus runners all listen and do exactly as I command. Furthermore, I can mobilize a hundred more men from the surrounding districts using my family’s capital. In a lot of ways, I feel like I am financing and playing the absolute biggest part in this entire conspiracy. Because of that, I would expect you to address me with a bit more respect."
"Playing the biggest part, he says!"
A burst of mockingly loud laughter suddenly erupted from one of the massive, jagged gaps in the supermarket’s concrete wall.
Donto and his guard snapped their heads toward the sound as three distinct individuals walked out of the shadows and into the dim light of the main floor. Walking at the absolute front of the trio was a man with his hair pulled back into a tight, practical ponytail. What immediately commanded attention, however, was the dark eye patch covering his left socket.
Walking just behind him was another individual who looked remarkably young, moving with a lazy, arrogant stride, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his short, scraggy hair unkempt.
Lastly, bringing up the rear, was a darker-skinned individual who possessed an incredibly imposing physique. He had massive, broad shoulders and a wide chest that stretched the fabric of his athletic tracksuit. Long, braided hair dangled loosely down either side of his face, and his head was angled constantly downward, his eyes tracking the floor as if he were a hound waiting to be unleashed.
"This isn’t the entirety of the roster, correct?" Dud asked, his eyes narrowing as he appraised the three arrivals.
"No, it’s not everyone we managed to pull out," Popper replied, his voice raspy as he adjusted his posture. "But it’s the important ones. It’s the leadership core—the ones who can make the final executive decisions and get the rest of the escapees to move on a target, right?"
"What the heck is this supposed to be?" Donto snapped, gesturing angrily toward the trio. "Everyone here is just a bunch of street kids? Dud, you need to explain this right now. I thought you explicitly stated that you would recruit real, seasoned killers to our side. I gave you a massive amount of cash to fund the prison break and bribe the transit guards, and this pathetic group of teenagers is all you have to show for it?"
The massive man with the long hair—the one built like a fortress—didn’t utter a word in response to the insult. Instead, he calmly took a step toward one of the abandoned, heavy steel shelving units bolted to the floor. With a single hand, he gripped the reinforced iron frame. With a terrifying explosion of raw physical power, he lifted the entire multi-ton structure completely into the air, hoisting it high above his head as if it weighed absolutely nothing. He held it there effortlessly, his muscles barely straining.
Donto stared at the impossible display in front of him, his mouth hanging wide open. He was entirely speechless, the words catching in his throat. The corporate bodyguard by his side instinctively took a half-step back, his professional stoicism completely shattering. He finally understood the reality of the situation: there was absolutely no point in a normal human coming into a place like this. They were outclassed.
"Hugo, put the structure down. Don’t waste your physical strength trying to impress a spoiled kid," Dipter said, his voice dripping with an icy authority. "And besides, from the sounds of it, his family’s money is the sole reason our cells were unlocked and we were able to escape the perimeter in the first place. Treat our benefactor with a little care."
Hugo did exactly as he was ordered without saying a word. He lowered his massive arms, placing the heavy steel shelf back onto the concrete floor and dropping it on the spot with a thunderous crash that shook dust from the ceiling rafters.
Before anyone else could formulate a response to the demonstration, the distinct, slow sound of clapping echoed from another dark corner of the supermarket. Emerging from the shadows was a fourth figure, his face obscured by a piece of dark cloth that covered the bottom half of his features, leaving only his sharp, predatory eyes visible.
"Unfortunately, I don’t possess as much of a theatrical or cool entrance as you heavy hitters," the masked man said, his tone dripping with a quiet malice. "But don’t worry, kid. You’ll get to see me in full action soon enough when the blood starts flowing."
Dud walked into the exact center of the ruined floor, positioned squarely where all the various factions stood, a large, triumphant smile spreading across his face. The pieces were finally on the board.
"Haha, this is absolutely perfect," Dud said, his eyes gleaming with a manic energy as he looked at Donto, the prison escapees, and the masked assassin. "I guess the time has officially come for me to introduce everyone to everyone. Let’s lay out the schematics and explain exactly why we have gathered in the dark today. We all have one singular, beautiful goal in common: we are going to completely butcher and take out the Billion Bloodline Group."