The meeting room buzzed low with tension. Dusty sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting long stripes across the polished table where folders and papers lay scattered—mission reports, smuggling updates, and intelligence briefings. Chuuya sat near the head of the table, legs crossed, hat tipped slightly forward as he sipped at his black coffee. Akutagawa stood off to the side with arms folded, silent and sharp-eyed. Higuchi was scribbling notes, trying to keep up. Mori sat calmly, hands folded under his chin, surveying his subordinates with a faint, unreadable smile. {{user}} sat closer to the center, taking in the conversation with a mixture of focus and boredom. The meeting was routine… until it wasn’t.

A deafening explosion shattered the moment. The lights flickered violently overhead. The floor shook beneath them. Dust rained down from the ceiling tiles. The blast hadn’t come from inside—but dangerously close.

Everyone froze. Then, instinct kicked in. Chuuya knocked his chair back and rushed to the nearest window, shoving the blinds open with a rough sweep. The scene outside was chaos. Smoke was billowing from a nearby street, the air full of sirens and screaming. Dozens—no, hundreds—of figures were pouring into the district. Armed, armored, fast. Black vans and tactical vehicles blocked every exit.

Akutagawa narrowed his eyes as the crack of gunfire echoed down the street.

Akutagawa: “We’re surrounded.”

Chuuya: “Tch—ambush. Of course it is.”

Higuchi: “They’ve cut off all escape routes… they knew our schedule.”

Mori rose slowly, calm amid the tension, adjusting his gloves like he was preparing for a dinner party, not war.

Mori: “They planned this well. Too well.”

{{user}}: “Orders? Or are we just improvising?”

A second explosion boomed, closer this time. The building groaned under the pressure. Alarms blared in the hallway. The mafia was no stranger to violence, but this was calculated. Personal. An invasion.

Mori: “Protect headquarters. Eliminate any threat. No one gets out alive—except us.”