The Son-In-Law’s Revenge

43

Somewhere In Chinatown… Manhattan Slum6:30pmThe moon sets but doesn’t illuminate the most popular slum of Chinatown. The alley is quiet but not empty. Men dressed in all black loiter the alley, their silver blade tattoos either hidden beneath clothing or clear for anyone passing by to see. No one dares to pass by this alley. No one who ever does, makes it out unscathed.A man dressed in the common black wear walks past two men leaning against a wall and takes slow steps as he watches a man who just alighted from a black van parked not too far off. The man behind him whispers something to him and he nods saying something back that was barely above a whisper.The man beneath the hood stops short, buries his hands in his pockets and waits for the approaching man. He pulls at the hood of his jacket, shielding his face from the dim moonlight as the man stands barely ten steps away. He looks around to make sure they’re not being watched and if they were, only by a member of the silver blades.The approaching man seems to think what he does because he looks around too, his head turning from side to side with each step he takes closer to the man with the hood. The man finally stands before him and he’s dressed just like him, in simple black pants and a black shirt, no hood jackets. The hooded man’s gaze drops to the silver weapon peeking from the man’s black pants. Probably a guard.“What too long.” The hooded man questions, his impatience getting its last pull with how sluggish the guard is being. His gaze runs from the boots on the hooded man’s feet to the hood jacket.“Boss had other things to do, meaning I had other things to do as well.” The guard clips, his gaze settling on the hooded man’s eyes.A muscle ticks in his jaw at the sheer audacity of it all but he shakes it off. There’s no need to lose his cool when he is this close to a good pay day.“I’d need a sign before we can proceed.” He says, openly assessing the hooded man which ticks him off even more.The man beneath the hood points at his bare arm, the ripped ends of his sleeveless jacket dangling with the wind. “Need anything else or do I have to strip so you can go crazy and search?” He snaps.The guard raises a brow, “Getting so worked up over protocol? Should I just leave and report back to the boss?” He asks, already knowing the answer.The man beneath the hood slams his mouth shut and points at his arm again.The guard's eyes drop to the silver blade tattoo that stains the otherwise bare skin of the hooded man.The guard nodded and waved for him to follow. Without a word, the hooded man follows closely behind the guard. They approach the car and the man’s fingers glide over the metal in his pocket.They stand in front of the black van for a few seconds before the door slides open. The first familiar face peeks out of the now opened door and the man beneath the hood tenses ever so slightly but shakes it off a moment later. Sebastian. His overall superior. He should be kneeling, he feels his knees agreeing with the thought but fights the urge to. The Don of the silver blade is looking back at him expectantly and he shakes off whatever little fear had stopped him.“Do you have it? Do you have the hard rice here?” Sebastian asks, his tone bored but his eyes shine with interest.“Yes.” The man says, pulling out the metal hard drive from his pocket. The man whose face still remains buried in the hood hands the tiny device to him, the coolness of the metal slipping from his fingertips and into Sebastian’s.Sebastian turns it in his palm, as if looking for a scratch or something.“I was careful.” The hooded man says.“For your sake, I hope that’s true.” Sebastian says dismissively like the thought of it was no worry of his but rather a bug he’d already gotten rid of.“What I’d like to know is how authentic it is,” He explains, his eyes still trained on the device he was still twirling in his palm. “If in fact it is authentic that is.” He tests, his eyes leaving the object briefly to catch his reaction.The man was still perfectly hidden behind the hood and all Sebastian gets is a mask in return. If the man is shocked by his question, he either doesn’t show it and is damn good at poker or he really is and he isn’t scared of any repercussions.“It is authentic.” The man responds, making no further attempt to convince him, aside from the one statement. Interesting.Sebastian nods to a man at the extreme back of the van and a brown envelope appears beside Sebastian’s head.He clutched the brown envelope and placed it on his lap, the crease on the envelope a stark contrast to his perfectly tailored and ironed gray suit pants. Sebastian pulls out a bit of cash from the stacks of cash in the brown envelope and sniffs it like a dog, making a dramatic motion with his hand, the gold ring on his index finger catching light with it.Sebastian wastes some more of the hooded man’s time sniffing his pay, oblivious to the unwelcome presence in the background. The hidden figure holds its spot in a corner, watching the exchange with a racing heart and focused eyes.The silhouette of the man walked away from where they were, he typed on his phone as he did. The phone made a popping noise as soon as the message was delivered .His phone buzzed, with a call from Logan—"Are you sure, it is him?" Logan questioned. "Positive." The anonymous man replies. "I took pictures." "Send them to me … " The man was about to click send when he heard a gun being clocked, he looked back and saw the same man he had been trailing.The phone fell from his trembling hands. ..