17 CH-17: The Last Job

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Special mentions:

•Dragon Cross

•AJ

•Benoît Valtin

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As I had predicted, New York City descended into a full-blown gang war in the following month.

The disappearance of the Karnellis created a power vacuum, causing every family to scramble for control over their territories.

However, the Karnellis were not completely out of the picture. The Maggia, being originally European crime families, had their main operations across the pond.

I had only dismantled their New York branch, making me the epicentre of this conflict.

I was the one who initiated this whole mess, the fool who toppled the first domino. But I had no regrets. The money I made working with Wilson Fisk far surpassed any other contract I had taken.

The gang fights themselves weren't as intense as one might think.

They mostly consisted of sporadic shootouts at prominent crime hubs, mostly near the ports or deep within crime-infested areas.

Thankfully, Queens remained relatively untouched by the chaos.

For ordinary people, the situation was tense. The police were busy collecting bodies on an almost daily basis and civilians were hesitant to venture out of their homes. But hey, this was New York, chaos was nothing new.

As for me, things were a little different. Wilson no longer wanted my direct involvement, or rather, he couldn't risk exposing his ties to me any further.

If word got out that Wilson was recruiting outsiders, it would only unite the other families against the Rigolettos.

Not that they were any better, they operated on the principle of 'innocent until caught' in this game.

Things have been slow for me lately.

I've kept myself secluded from the territories since the gang war started.

Nobody knows who took out the Karnellis, and I don't intend to brag about it. I don't need that kind of attention or a target on my back.

Contracts from the existing ten families have been piling up at The Bar, some with better offers than Wilson's, but I've made it clear that I'm not interested in the money, at least not right now.

Working with Wilson was an investment, one I know will pay off in the future.

I could have sided with another family and taken down the future Kingpin before he became the threat he would, but I didn't.

It's better to stick with the devil you know than the unknown and Wilson isn't that bad of a guy, all things considered.

He's given me a lot of money and surprisingly, a lot of respect.

If you can overlook the murders and cruelty he commits in the name of a better New York, he's actually quite decent.

The good news is, my plan is already proving to be right.

Last week, Wilson eliminated the head of the Rigoletto family and crowned himself as the new boss.

There wasn't much resistance within the family, but he still silenced anyone who posed a threat.

I don't think this war will escalate any further.

Some families are already in settlement talks.

It was more of a pressure release for the families and a way to establish a new order of business.

Wilson used the chaos to secure his position and climb the underworld ladder once again.

From now on, it will be more of a political warfare rather than relying on guns.

This means I'll be losing business but it doesn't bother me.

The time has finally come for me to leave New York.

I still haven't found a truly exceptional master or anything but I did discover a century-old katana dojo in Japan. So that's a good starting point for me.

"Sure, I get it!"

My internal monologue was abruptly interrupted as Caliban erupted into a heated conversation on his phone, plopping down on the seat beside me.

Rolling my eyes, I sipped my milkshake, watching him in amusement. It was a rare sight to see him angry or frustrated.

"Can you please try!" He growled, his frustration evident as he slammed the phone onto the table.

"Fine!" He barked, venting his frustration and sighing, rubbing his face in annoyance.

I stayed silent, giving him a sideways glance as he propped his face in his hands.

"Aren't you curious about what that was about?" He asked, still hiding behind his palms.

"Will it pay me?" I retorted.

"Not your kind of job." He replied and I shrugged. He already knew I wouldn't bother.

"But come on, aren't you even a little intrigued?" He persisted.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" I grumbled, pushing my empty glass aside and turning my stool toward Cal.

"I don't plan to." He smirked mischievously, reaching for his tablet.

He opened it and started scrolling through the dark web until his hands stopped on an image of a shiny, silvery diamond embedded in an enormous necklace. A tiny blue diamond glimmered at its centre.

"And what's this?" I quipped, dripping sarcasm from my voice.

"This is the heirloom of the Symkaria royalty." Caliban revealed, his voice filled with fascination.

"Let me guess." I replied, feigning intense contemplation. "The British stole it."

"Yes!" He exclaimed with excitement, as if I had cracked a puzzle. But seriously, who hadn't the British stolen from?

"It was discovered in an old Marquise's estate in Washington, and it's going up on auction for a few hundred grand as a colonial artefact." Caliban explained, letting out an almost maniacal chuckle. "But this little trinket is worth a whopping 20 million dollars on the black market."

"Wow." I raised my eyebrows, genuinely intrigued as things quickly got interesting.

"Yeah but I've got to secure it before it hits the auction." He mused, scratching the back of his head.

"And how much is the job worth?" I asked, my greedy undertone clear.

"This is a thief's gig, Venom, not an assassination." He disagreed but I wasn't backing down.

"How much?" I pressed.

"One million." He blurted out.

"Make it two and you've got yourself a deal." I said, extending my hand.

It didn't seem like a difficult job and it wasn't all that different from an assassination.

I just needed to slip in, take out the guards without causing casualties, snatch the necklace and disappear into the shadows. Simple enough.

"Argh, fine." Caliban grumbled, reluctantly shaking my hand.

I snatched the tablet from his hands as I stood up and made my way out of the bar.

One last job before I bid farewell to this place.