The tactical briefing room hummed with tension.
Lines of armored GCPD officers tightened straps, checked magazines, and slapped face shields into place. Commissioner Akins stood at the front, arms crossed, staring at a whiteboard layered with photos of stash houses, Triad storefronts, Cartel cook labs, Falcone warehouses — and a surprising cluster of circles around the East Docks.
"This isn't a standard sweep," Akins said. "Too many factions are out of control. We hit all targets at once, before the city tears itself apart."
Montoya exchanged a look with Bullock.
They both knew that was wishful thinking.
Maps were laid out.
Tactical groups split off.
"Bravo Team hits the Triad safehouse in Cherry Street. Charlie Team hits the Cartel lab under 3rd Avenue. Delta Team—" he paused, jaw tightening. "You're going after the Falcone stash on Buxton."
"And the tunnels?" Montoya asked.
Akins grimaced. "We don't have confirmation who runs the Underpass, but someone's coordinating supplies down there. If you see movement—detain first, ask later."
An uneasy murmur spread through the room. No one truly wanted to go down there and check if there was movement.
Three major factions.
One unknown faction.
A city choking on tension.
The raid teams rolled out.
Gotham held its breath.
***
The mood here was different — no hesitation, no moral debate.
Only cold calculation.
Senior Dragon Lao-Sing leaned over a table carved with symbols. His eyes narrowed at the reports: smaller Triad crews breaking off; Jade Leopards defeating an entire Falcone hit squad; territory shifting at the fringes.
"Unacceptable," Lao-Sing hissed.
Around him, Triad captains assembled, their red sashes stark in the room's dim light.
"They've mistaken our patience for weakness," he growled. "And that ends tonight. The boss wants a clean sweep."
A younger captain, Wei, bowed.
"The Jade Leopards revealed hidden strength. They might challenge us if left unchecked."
"Then we strike them first," Lao-Sing said. "Snuff the rebellions before the rot spreads."
He pointed to the map — a series of pawn shops, noodle joints, and laundries surrounding the Jade Leopards' new base.
"Every rebellious splinter. Every wannabe faction. Burn out the weeds so we can cull the strong" his eyes where locked onto Falcone's territory
A messenger ran into the room, bowing deeply.
"Dragon — word on the street is the GCPD is mobilizing."
Lao-Sing's nostrils flared.
"Let them. We'll move before they arrive."
He lifted a ceremonial ring from a velvet cloth and slipped it onto his finger.
"Tonight, Chinatown is cleansed."
Outside, dozens of Triad enforcers began loading into vans and sedans, their movements quiet and disciplined.
The fuse had been lit.
***
Falcone listened to the update with one hand swirling a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid trembling with his pulse.
"The Triads are moving heavy," his capo reported. "Word is they're pulling bodies from every district to hit the Jade Leopards and the independents."
"And the cops?" Falcone asked quietly.
"Mobilizing all over the city. Big raid. Real big."
Falcone's jaw tightened.
"They're stretched thin then. What do our sources say?"
"Very," the capo confirmed, "Some of our territory is on the list but nothing major."
Falcone took a slow drink, thinking. The Sevens were gone — destroyed by the underpass network though they already served their purpose. His own operations were strained. But if the Triads were committing forces to internal purges… that meant their defenses elsewhere were thinning.
"Get the boys ready," he said at last. "If the Triads want a war with their own people, that's their problem. But we're taking advantage."
The capo nodded but hesitated.
"And the Cartel?" he asked.
Falcone smirked.
"They won't make a move. Their information isn't as good as ours."
***
El Muro, towering and scarred, slammed a duffel bag onto the table. Inside were surveillance photos — Triad vans moving through Chinatown, GCPD tactical trucks forming up, city maps marked with predicted routes.
"The Triads are too busy with their housecleaning," El Muro growled, "where did you get the info?"
His lieutenants nodded.
"This is our window," said one. "We strike at their laundering hubs. Break their money flow. Got it from our source don't worry boss it's good."
Another chimed in, "We could even take their dock stash if Falcone's men move too. Split their focus. Crush them."
El Muro cracked his knuckles.
"And what of the Underpass?" he asked.
"They're occupied. One of their leaders got hit earlier this week. They'll be buried in recovery for a bit."
El Muro grinned, teeth shining.
"Perfect. Tonight, we strike China town. Falcone won't make a move he has failed too many times recently he can't risk another. While he hesitates we strike, and finally cripple those triad bastards."
***
Nolan stood at the window of his penthouse, drink in his right hand and a cigarette in the other. He watched the city move without pausing and wished some days he too could be lost in the daily hustle.
It just wasn't in the cards for someone like him.
A knock sounded at his door, "Enter." He said just loud enough for the other party to hear
The door opened and in rolled Marcy, she wasn't crippled but still needed the wheelchair for now or crutches. Nolan thought the wheelchair would be more comfortable.
"I'm glad you're doing okay." Nolan smiled softly as he approached her and took the back of her wheel chair driving her over to the window
"It's bad to smoke inside yknow?" She chided and he cracked a smile
"How are you feeling?"
A grimace splayed across his face, "Terrible, I just want to get back to work and rebuild my supply lines we depended on those."
Nolan nodded, "We depended on you a lot, our supply lines being down isn't the best outcome but an easy fix. You can start in your wheelchair Marcy you don't need to personally be on the runs."
she quirked a brow, "And how will I know if they are done properly then?"
He laughed but didn't speak they stayed in silence watching the city below.
"What is your plan boss?" She asked softly, "I heard about what happened what next?"
Quentin quirked his brow the grip on his cigarette changed and he laughed, "Don't worry too much Marcy. We got a plan alright, just focus on recovering."
Marcy gave him a side glance, she couldn't get used to the way he changed. His voice his mannerisms. Just everything.
She hesitated, "Quentin right?"
He looked at her took a drag of his cigarette and smiled, "Don't worry Marcy, this war is ending sooner than you might think."
"Now, if you excuse me I have to get ready."
"For what?" She asked
"Victory of course!"
He led marcy from the penthouse window to the door, hotel staff was already waiting for her to help take her to her room.
The concierge stayed behind, "Boss you wanted to see me?"
Quentin nodded, "Tonight, we are activating emergency disaster plans. Arm everyone, the hotel is closed for the night no new bookings."
"Very well sir."
Quentin stepped into the penthouse and slowly took hus suit off while carefully replacing it with a different one.
Finally a mask went into the duffle bag at his side and, a vial into his pocket.
—
A/N: Happy thanksgiving, thankful for everyone who enjoys this. Next chapter is almost 3k.