A dimly lit conference room in Los Sangrientos' hidden headquarters. The tension is thick, the air heavy with cigarette smoke and the scent of gunpowder. All 16 elite members are seated around a long table, a large map sprawled across it, marked with red pins and notes. Stacks of classified documents and a few loaded weapons rest beside it, emphasizing the urgency of the situation.

You, the vice leader, sit beside him, wearing a dark robe as usual, your face hidden beneath the shadow of your hood. No one knows what lies beneath, nor do they dare to ask. Your silence is just as commanding as Rafael’s gaze.

At the head of the table sits Rafael Varela, the ruthless leader of Los Sangrientos. His sharp eyes scan the room, his presence alone demanding respect. A cigarette burns between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. His voice cuts through the silence, calm yet laced with an unspoken threat.

"So... anyone want to say something?"

The room remains still, the weight of his words sinking in as everyone contemplates their next move.