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There were still three days left until the meeting.
At this moment, the crime lords of Hell's Kitchen who had received Alex Ray's invitation gathered for a video conference.
"I'm telling you, this is just a damn trap! They claim it's to discuss building a school in Hell's Kitchen, but it's really about forcing us to hand over our power!"
"Damn Alex Ray! He's trying to dig us out by the roots!"
"'For the good of Hell's Kitchen,' my ass! If he really wanted to help, he should get the hell out of Hell's Kitchen! That would be the real favor!"
"Some local guy thinks he's a saint now, wants to build a school? Why doesn't he just hand us the money instead!"
The meeting quickly descended into a barrage of complaints and curses directed at Alex Ray and Wilson Fisk. None of them had the courage to confront the two directly, so they hid behind screens, venting their rage like cowards.
A bunch of clowns. Gutless cowards.
Gust, the Mexican gang leader, had nothing but contempt for the others. He scoffed at the way they hurled insults at Alex and Fisk while doing absolutely nothing.
"So this meeting's just a digital bitchfest now, huh?" Gust said loudly. "If that's all it is, I'm out. I'm not here to play house with a bunch of scared little rats."
The room went silent. Gust's insult hit hard.
Tom Ralph, co-leader of the Irish gang, smirked as he watched from his end. Finally, someone else was taking the heat—better him than Tom.
A moment later, someone pointed a gun at their screen and shouted, "Who the hell do you think you are? Back when I was running these streets, you were still playing with toy guns."
"You're nothing but a glorified drug pusher. What's there to be proud of? And now you're hiding in the slums like a rat. If you're so tough, why don't you step up and face Alex Ray head-on?"
"The Marquis of the High Table couldn't even survive him. You think you can?"
"We're here to plan strategy. No wonder you're stuck in a slum and never climbed higher."
Ever since Alex Ray had killed the Marquis and seized control of the High Table's New York operations, he'd become infamous. Most of the bosses knew they couldn't match the Marquis, and now that Alex had taken his place, they understood just how impossible a confrontation would be.
The mockery set Gust off. His expression twisted with the urge to kill.
"You're all cowards," he growled. "Why don't you just hand me your turf? You're not going to resist Alex Ray anyway. Pack up and get the hell out of Hell's Kitchen. Retire, fade away. I'm not going to this useless meeting. As for the kids in Hell's Kitchen? Deal with them yourselves."
The tension crackled.
Someone snapped, "Let me ask you this: if you refuse Alex Ray and he decides to enforce mandatory school enrollment with an armed squad, what are you going to do? How the hell will you stop him?"
Gust smiled and said, confidently, "Simple. I'll call the police."
Dead silence.
Gust blinked, thinking his connection had dropped. "What? What's wrong with that?"
Then came the laughter—soft at first, then louder and louder, until the whole room was roaring.
"You're a drug dealer, and your grand plan is to call the cops? What are you gonna do, turn yourself in?"
"You think the police will arrest Alex before they throw your ass in jail?"
"This is Hell's Kitchen. We don't call the cops. That's the first rule. Handle it in-house. Always. Can't believe one of the three main gangs here would fall this far and beg for help from the police. You're a disgrace."
Gust snorted, completely unimpressed by the others' old-school mentality. No wonder they were still stuck here.
"Look," he said coldly, "Alex Ray's not just some gang leader. He's a mutant, a superpowered wildcard. And he's got more like him under his command. Plus, he's not even affiliated with any gang. He's trying to change Hell's Kitchen—and you're all too dumb to realize that change is coming whether you like it or not."
"If he can change things, why can't I? And yeah, I'll call the cops. Don't forget—he's an elder of the High Table. He's got assassins crawling out of his pockets. The authorities would love a reason to take him down."
Someone retorted, "And what are the cops going to do? Hell's Kitchen's PD couldn't beat us on a good day. You think they'll take down Alex Ray? He funds half the precinct!"
"Didn't a bunch of so-called FBI agents try already? They slinked out with their tails between their legs."
The others nodded grimly. They hadn't forgotten what Alex had done to those agents.
Gust didn't back down. "That's because you're all missing the point. The guys who came last time were just testing the waters. You think the government showed their full hand? No way. They're analyzing Alex, his crew, and his powers—looking for weaknesses, building weapons. Preparing."
"In front of a national machine, individual power doesn't mean shit. That's why Alex didn't kill a single agent last time. He knows he can't take on the whole damn country."
He leaned forward toward his camera. "And do you really think we can stop him at this meeting? He's going to build that school. He'll get the kids. And once they're in, we won't have new blood. You give an inch now, he'll take a mile later."
"This time it's a school. Next time, it's your business. Then your turf. Then your entire gang. In the end, what's left? You'll all be working for Alex Ray whether you realize it or not."
Gust's cold logic cut deep.
The other bosses sat in stunned silence, the weight of his words sinking in.
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