Ninety Five

The Crimson Lotus Invades America Los Angeles, United States Inside a luxurious high-rise overlooking downtown, Renjiro Takahashi sat comfortably in a leather chair, sipping whiskey while admiring the glittering cityscape through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Behind him, his men stood still, awaiting orders. In front of him, a sweating Mexican man sat uneasily in his seat.

Miguel, a mid-tier cartel boss who had long controlled drug distribution on the West Coast, looked like a man standing at the edge of his own grave.

"You don’t look very comfortable, Miguel," Renjiro murmured, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip. Miguel swallowed hard, wiping his damp forehead.

"I just… I just don’t understand why you’re here, Mr. Takahashi. The West Coast already has its king. Antonio Franches won’t let an outsider take his business that easily." Renjiro let out a low chuckle, deep and menacing.

"Antonio?" He leaned back, his sharp eyes locking onto Miguel’s with predatory amusement.

"He may be the king here… but even kings can lose their thrones." Miguel’s hair stood on end.

"Maybe… maybe there’s another way," Miguel stammered.

"We could work together—I could help you distribute in smaller territories—" Renjiro shook his head, cutting him off with icy finality.

"I’m not interested in small territories, Miguel." His voice dropped.

"I want everything." Miguel barely had time to process those words before Renjiro raised his hand.

One of his men stepped forward, pressing a cold barrel of a gun against the back of Miguel’s head. Miguel's breath hitched.

"Renjiro! WAIT! I can help—"

BANG!

The gunshot rang through the room. Miguel’s body hit the floor, his blood seeping into the expensive carpet beneath them. Renjiro exhaled, setting his whiskey glass down as if nothing had happened.

"Clean this up," he instructed flatly.

"I don’t need garbage who still swears loyalty to Antonio." His men nodded, swiftly dragging Miguel’s lifeless body out of the room. Renjiro turned back to the Los Angeles skyline, the city now his chessboard. This wasn’t just an expansion. This was a takeover. And Antonio Franches was about to learn—he wasn’t the only king in town anymore.

New York City,

United States Inside one of the most extravagant penthouses in Manhattan, Antonio Franches lounged in a velvet armchair, surrounded by three high-class socialites, their hands tracing over his suit as soft jazz played in the background. Wine poured into crystal glasses, laughter hummed in the air. But across the room, Marcus stood with a grim expression, waiting patiently. Antonio caught his look and gave a small smirk before patting one of the women’s thighs.

"Baby, give me a second. Business calls." The woman pouted but obeyed, sashaying over to the bar with the other two. Antonio took a slow sip of his wine before looking at Marcus.

"Speak." Marcus handed him a folder.

"Renjiro Takahashi is in the States. He’s moving in on our operations—starting with the West Coast. Los Angeles and San Diego are already compromised." Antonio flipped through the pages calmly, his face unreadable. After a few moments, he set the folder down… and laughed quietly.

"So the motherfucker actually thinks he can play in my backyard?" His voice was smooth, dangerous. Marcus gave a slow nod.

"Not just that. He’s already recruited smaller cartels that used to work for us. Some of our shipments have been delayed—logistics are starting to get fucked." Antonio took another long sip of his wine before setting the glass down gently.

"So he’s not here to share." His lips curved into a smirk.

"He’s here to take it all." Marcus nodded grimly.

"It seems that way." Antonio leaned back, exhaling slowly, before glancing toward the bar where one of the women was watching him playfully. He gestured her over. She grinned and strutted back toward him, settling back onto his lap, her lips brushing against his ear. Antonio ran his fingers lightly down her spine, his grip possessive, his smirk never fading. Then, he turned his gaze back to Marcus.

"No one takes from me without consequences." He leaned in, whispering against the woman’s ear, making her shiver before turning back to his right-hand man.

"Set up the plan." His tone was deadly calm.

"I want him to understand—this isn’t Japan." His smirk widened as his fingers traced slow circles over the woman’s thigh.

"This is Antonio Franches’ world." Los Angeles – A Few Weeks Later Renjiro sat in an upscale restaurant, surrounded by wealthy investors who had started taking interest in his growing influence in America. With careful strategy, he had begun pulling key players—businessmen, politicians, and officials—away from Antonio’s network and into his. But just as he was in the middle of conversation, one of his men approached, face tense with urgency.

"Boss, we have a problem." Renjiro arched an eyebrow.

"What is it?" The man handed him a printed email report. It detailed how several key shipments had been blocked by authorities. Even worse—some officials who had been in business with them were backing out. Renjiro read the report calmly, setting the paper down with an eerily relaxed motion.

"So, Antonio finally decided to react," he murmured, lips curling into a smirk. One of the men at the table—a powerful businessman—shifted uncomfortably.

"I’ve heard about Antonio," he admitted warily.

"He’s not someone you take down easily." Renjiro took a slow sip of his sake, eyes flashing with pure predatory focus.

"No man is invincible. Not even Antonio." He turned toward his men.

"Make sure the media doesn’t get wind of this. And… send Antonio a message. Let him know I’m not backing down." His soldier nodded swiftly before hurrying off. Renjiro leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting to the night sky outside the restaurant window. This was no longer just business. This was war.

Los Angeles – The Crimson Lotus Headquarters Renjiro Takahashi stood in the center of the room, his expression dark as a storm. Before him, his men stood silent, heads bowed, terrified to meet their leader’s burning gaze. Then—

CRASH! A glass of whiskey shattered against the wall.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ALL DOING?!"

Renjiro roared, his fury shaking the very air. A large-built man stepped forward hesitantly.

"Boss… our business in America is crumbling. Antonio has taken control of nearly all distribution routes. Even the officials we bribed are pulling away—they’re scared to work with us." Renjiro’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening.

"Fucking cowards!" he growled.

"They’ll regret doubting us!" Another man—thinner, more nervous—hesitated before speaking.

"Boss… there’s something worse." Renjiro’s piercing gaze snapped to him.

"Speak." The man swallowed hard.

"Some of our own men… have switched sides. They’ve sworn loyalty to Antonio." Silence. A heavy, crushing silence. Renjiro’s breath came out slow and measured—the only sign of the volcanic rage brewing beneath his calm exterior. Then—

BANG!

Without warning, he drew his gun and shot the man point-blank in the head. Blood splattered across the wooden floor as the body collapsed lifelessly. Not a single soul in the room dared to breathe. Renjiro took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Then, in a voice cold as steel, he murmured,

"Spread the word—anyone who betrays me dies." A man from the far corner finally spoke up.

"Boss… we can’t just sit back. Antonio keeps pushing us. We need to strike first." Renjiro’s eyes narrowed. Then—he smirked.

"You’re right." His gaze flickered to his most trusted enforcer.

"Gather our best men." His voice was quiet, deadly.

"We’re hitting one of Antonio’s warehouses tonight." The First Open War Antonio’s Warehouse – Los Angeles Port – Midnight The night air was cold. At the port, Antonio’s men stood on guard, patrolling the warehouse, completely unaware of the shadows lurking between the shipping containers. The Crimson Lotus had arrived. Then—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The first shots shattered the silence of the night. Antonio’s men scrambled for cover, ducking behind shipping containers as they returned fire.

"FUCKING KILL THEM!" one of Renjiro’s men shouted. The Crimson Lotus soldiers advanced, unleashing a storm of bullets toward the warehouse.

Inside, Marcus received the alert through his earpiece. His expression darkened as he turned and rushed upstairs to where Antonio was relaxing in luxury—a penthouse atop an exclusive building. Antonio sat lounging on a leather chair, a glass of wine in one hand and two stunning women draped over him. One of them was on his lap, her lips trailing down his neck. Marcus didn’t hesitate.

"Boss, they’re attacking the warehouse." Antonio exhaled slowly, his lips curling into an amused smirk as he tilted his head back.

"Renjiro’s finally getting desperate, huh?" Marcus nodded.

"We need your orders." Antonio sighed, then gently pushed the woman off his lap.

"Sorry, baby. Business calls." The woman pouted.

"You’re coming back, right?" Antonio grabbed her chin, pulling her in for a deep, heated kiss, his tongue flicking against hers before he pulled away.

"Of course." She shivered, licking her lips as Antonio stood up and stretched, his demeanor as relaxed as ever. He grabbed his black tailored jacket, sliding it on effortlessly.

"Get the team ready," he said smoothly.

"I want to send Renjiro a message he’ll never forget."

Warehouse – 15 Minutes Later

A convoy of black SUVs skidded to a stop outside the warehouse. Doors swung open. Antonio stepped out with a lazy, cocky stride, his sharp black suit a stark contrast to the battlefield around him. Bullets were still flying. Marcus lit a cigarette, casually firing off a few rounds toward the enemy.

"Perfect timing, Boss," he muttered. Antonio smirked.

"I always have perfect timing." Without hesitation, he grabbed a rifle from one of his men—then opened fire.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Renjiro’s men dropped one by one, unable to match Antonio’s precision and raw dominance. From the shadows, Renjiro watched from atop a shipping container, his teeth grinding in frustration.

"FALL BACK! IT’S A TRAP!" he yelled. But before he could fully retreat—

BANG!

A bullet whizzed past his head, so close that he felt the heat as it sliced through the air. Renjiro ducked, his heart pounding. Then he looked up— And there was Antonio. Standing calmly, rifle still smoking, a smug, deadly grin on his face. Their eyes met. And Renjiro knew—he had lost this round. After the Battle – The Crimson Lotus Headquarters Renjiro sat in his office, rage boiling in his veins. The defeat at the warehouse had been a humiliating loss. He had lost men, territory, and leverage. His grip on the map of Los Angeles tightened as he stared at how much ground Antonio had taken.

"I can't lose…" he muttered darkly.

"I have to destroy Antonio." But before he could think any further— Knock. Knock. Knock. A slow, deliberate knock on his door. Renjiro lifted his head, eyes narrowing.

"Enter." The door creaked open. A tall, shadowed figure stepped in, his face obscured by the dim light. But the moment he walked in, Renjiro’s men stiffened—some even bowed slightly out of instinctual respect or fear. The air in the room shifted. Renjiro’s sharp eyes scanned the man.

"Who the fuck are you?" The stranger smiled, slow and calculated.

"I’m here to help you destroy Antonio Franches." Renjiro’s fingers twitched toward his gun.

"Why the hell should I trust you?" The man let out a soft chuckle, completely unfazed by the threat in Renjiro’s voice.

"Because I know exactly how to take him down." A heavy silence settled over the room. Renjiro’s mind raced, calculating. Then— A slow, dangerous smile crept onto his face.

"Alright… you have my attention." The stranger returned his smile, though his eyes remained dark, unreadable. And just like that— A new deadlier chapter in the war between The Crimson Lotus and Antonio Franches had begun.

But who was this man? What was his true motive? No one knew. Not yet.