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Chapter 240 c
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 15:04:01 +0000 UTCChapter 240 c
A deal with profits this high—there was no reason for the Kiryu-gumi to fall out with them. Someone had to be stirring up trouble on purpose.
Clemente figured it was best to give the Kiryu-gumi a call first and ask about the situation. He was a businessman, after all. He couldn’t let a few subordinate’s deaths ruin a profitable arrangement.
Just as Clemente reached for his phone to call the Tyger Claws and get to the bottom of things, his screen lit up with an incoming call. They beat him to it.
“Clemente?! Are you out of your damn mind? Why’d you send your people to Japantown to kill ours?” shouted the voice of the Kiryu-gumi’s purchasing officer, furious.
Clemente was caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? You’re saying our people killed yours? In Japantown? Wasn’t it your guys who stormed into our turf and started killing?”
“Bullshit! My men were headed to your turf to make a buy, and they were gunned down in Japantown by your people! Don’t even think of denying it—there were plenty of bystanders who saw the whole thing!”
A sinking feeling took hold in Clemente. It hit him then—this was no simple misunderstanding. He finally understood.
“Hold on, wait… You said there were witnesses? When did it happen?”
“Around 2 p.m., why?”
“My guys were taken out around noon. The attackers drove a muscle car and dressed like Tyger Claws.”
“You—”
The officer bit back the word "bullshit." He wasn’t stupid. At first, he’d been enraged, thinking the Clemente family had gone back on their word, and that rage drove him to make the call. But now, he suddenly realized things might not be so simple.
He too had thought their cooperation with the Clemente family was going smoothly—possibly even worth taking to the next level. That’s why he hadn’t believed the news at first. What would the Clemente family gain by breaking off the deal?
Now, hearing that Clemente’s side also suffered losses… his anger quickly subsided. If Clemente wasn’t lying—and he had no reason to—then someone might’ve impersonated both gangs and staged the attacks.
“Alright, if what you say is true, then who would have the intel to ambush both sides so precisely?”
“That’s what confuses me too.” Clemente was certain he hadn’t ordered any hit on the Kiryu-gumi. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve believed it was his own men. That’s how accurate the attacker’s imitation had been.
“Anyway, pass the word to Mr. Zanma that I bear no ill will toward the Kiryu-gumi. I’ve always admired Japanese culture—and anime, for that matter. I’d never—”
Clemente wasn’t afraid of the Tyger Claws. He just saw no point in stirring up unnecessary conflict. The Sixth Street Gang’s main focus was still in Heywood. Even with Padre hospitalized and the takeover of Vista Del Rey only a matter of time, there were still Glen and Wellsprings to consider. Other Valentinos were still active too.
They didn’t want, and couldn’t afford, a real war with the Tyger Claws. That would do no good for the Sixth Street Gang.
“No need to pass the message,” the voice replied. “Mr. Zanma is right here.”
The holo-call shifted, the camera panning from the purchasing officer to reveal a man with a stern, icy expression sitting behind him—Kiryu Zanma, leader of the Kiryu-gumi.
“Clemente-san,” Zanma said, his tone level, “what you’ve said makes sense. But over a call, it feels a bit... lacking in sincerity, don’t you think?”
Clemente frowned slightly. “Mr. Zanma, what are you suggesting?”
Zanma let out a low, raspy laugh, switching into awkwardly-accented English. “I think we should meet in person. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course. I’d be happy to.”
“You mentioned earlier that you enjoy Japanese culture and anime. Then, tell me—do you like Japanese cuisine?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Then tonight, 9 p.m., Japantown. The Imperial Hotel. We’ll talk over dinner.”
---
After hanging up, one of Clemente’s subordinates asked nervously, “Boss, was that…?”
“It was someone from the Kiryu-gumi. Their people got hit today too, and they think we did it.”
The moment they heard the Tyger Claws weren't pulling a false-flag attack, the room burst into furious chatter.
“What? Someone’s framing us!”
If a gang war broke out with the Tyger Claws, it would completely derail their campaign in Heywood. They could end up fighting on two fronts. Everyone remembered what happened to Germany in WWI and WWII—surrounded and crushed.
But Clemente stayed calm. “Exactly. That’s why we’re going to the Imperial Hotel in Japantown. Tonight. 9 p.m.”
One of his men stepped out of the office, checked that no one was around, and sent a discreet message to Rogue:
“9 p.m. tonight, Japantown, Imperial Hotel. Boss meeting with the Kiryu-gumi.”
Within minutes of sending the message, he noticed a transfer of 10,000 eurodollars into his account. He kept a straight face and walked away like nothing had happened.
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At the scrapyard in Santo Domingo, a graveyard for dead vehicles, piles of crushed cars loomed like mountains. Leo pulled the pickup into the yard, got out, and paid the fee. Together with Lucy, he watched as the truck they had just driven was compacted into twisted metal and buried beneath a heap of scrap.
Then Lucy noticed Leo smiling.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, puzzled.
“Nothing. Just remembered something from the past.”
“The past?”
“When I used to watch Mafia shows, I’d see characters ditching their rides like this. Back then I’d think, ‘Damn, Mafias are loaded—wrecking a perfectly fine car like it’s nothing.’ And now, years later, here I am doing the same thing.”
Beep beep— Leo glanced at the message from Rogue.
“Alright, no time to get sentimental. Our day’s not over yet. Shall we go?”
He held out his arm. Lucy, without hesitation, slipped hers through it.
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As night fell over Japantown, the streets filled with crowds out for entertainment. But the usually bustling Imperial Hotel was unusually quiet tonight.
The reason was simple: dozens of Tyger Claws were stationed outside its entrance. With that kind of presence, no one dared go in. It looked more like a gang fight waiting to happen than a place for fine dining.
The front desk manager was scared stiff. Thankfully, a Kiryu-gumi officer came by to reassure him. They would be dining soon and had reserved a private room. The men were outside waiting to receive an important guest. Once he arrived, they would go in and eat—without disturbing business.
If the manager bought that line, he probably got the job through nepotism. But there was nothing he could do about it. Sometimes, when you’re under someone’s roof, you have to lower your head.
“Mr. Zanma?”
“Yes?”
“It’s almost 9 o’clock.”
Zanma gave a slight nod.
Just then, a dozen vehicles rolled up the street, each one bearing the Clemente family emblem.
“They’re here.”
Seeing so many of Clemente’s cars stirred unease among the Tyger Claws gathered outside. They were gangsters, not soldiers—they couldn’t help but feel the tension.
“What’re you panicking for? This is our turf!”
