Chapter 176: Underworld Meeting
Viola shut the door of Xavier’s apartment behind her and stepped into her own. The air was quieter here, less heavy with the metallic stench of blood. Lilia was curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow. Her eyes shot up the second Viola entered.
"Is... everything alright?" Lilia asked carefully. "Can I go back now?"
Viola shook her head. "No. Trust me, you don’t want to see what’s in there. Stay here tonight."
Lilia’s grip on the pillow tightened. "...How’s Lyra?"
"Don’t worry about her," Viola said flatly, kicking off her boots. "That brat’s a trained space mercenary. She’s not the type to keel over just because some hired scum walked in. She’ll be fine. She’ll come here after she’s done bathing and changing."
Lilia looked like she wanted to press more, but Viola was already heading down the short hall. She slipped into her room, shut the door, and dragged a chair up to her desk. The room lights dimmed as she activated her holo pad.
The projection flickered, and the captain of the Spade Hounds appeared—arms folded, a cigar pinched between his teeth, smoke curling around his scarred face.
"You’re calling me." His voice carried a note of mockery. "That means you’ve done it."
Viola leaned back in her chair, eyes lidded, voice cool. "Xavier’s dead. Now—about that seat you promised. Vice commander."
There was silence for a moment. Then, the captain broke into laughter. Cruel, loud, echoing through the holo.
"You actually believed that?" he sneered, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "Vice commander? You? Don’t make me laugh. I was joking, Viola. I never put in an official entry. You’ve been out of the game too long, and you don’t belong in those seats. Not now, not ever."
Viola’s smirk didn’t falter. She tilted her head, watching him with a strange calm.
The captain’s amusement dimmed, just slightly, when he noticed her lips curl upward, her eyes glinting with something sharp. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t shocked. She was smiling.
"...The hell are you grinning for?" he muttered, frowning. "Don’t tell me you snapped. Losing your mind from the disappointment already?"
But Viola just sat there, smiling wider. Silent. Her smirk lingering even as the holo sputtered and the call cut out, leaving him unsettled with a single question rattling in his mind—
Why the fuck was she smiling?
Meanwhile, things were stirring up in the underworld.
The holo-grid lit up with twelve figures as Jason leaned back in his chair, cigar smoke curling from the ashtray beside him. The faces flickered in holographic blue, each one a leader of their own syndicate, crime family, or mercenary network.
"Why the fuck did you call us this early?" one grumbled, his voice gravelly.
Another leaned forward. "You get a fat mission, Jason? Something too big for the great ’Champion of the Underworld’ to handle alone?"
A chorus of mutters followed, some laughing, some suspicious, all curious.
Jason let them talk. Then, with a flick of his hand, a face appeared in the center projection—Xavier. His name, stats, and bounty mark hovered beneath.
The noise in the channel cut short.
"Who," Jason’s voice was calm but sharp, "accepted this contract?"
A pause. Then the replies came.
"It’s none of your business."
"We take jobs, that’s what we do."
"System works how it works. Don’t like it, stay out."
Jason smiled faintly, as if entertained by their nerves. He drummed his fingers against the desk. "You’re right. You’re absolutely right. The system is the system. We take jobs, we kill, we get paid. Nothing personal."
Some of them relaxed, but then Jason’s hand hovered again and a different projection lit up—a slab of ancient script glowing gold.
One of the leaders stiffened. "The commandments..."
Jason’s smile widened. "Exactly. And this one in particular." He pointed at the text that scrolled across the holo:
"When one is under the care of the Underworld, be it a city, a clan, or even a lone individual—none shall move against them. To do so is crime."
Murmurs broke out.
Jason’s gaze hardened. "So tell me, since when was Xavier outside this protection?"
"Don’t play with us," another snapped. "Since when was that brat under anyone’s care?"
Jason’s hand moved again, and a new image popped up—grainy footage from the Midnight Club. It showed Jason himself sliding his prized gun across the table to Xavier. A gesture every leader in the room understood.
The silence was immediate, mixed with shock and confusion.
Jason’s voice was casual, almost playful. "You see, I didn’t announce it publicly. So I’ll be generous. I won’t file a violation report. All I want is the one who accepted the bounty to admit it. Say it was a mistake, ignorance, nothing more. And we walk away."
The holo stayed quiet. Too quiet.
Jason leaned forward, cigar between his teeth. "Come on. Don’t make me wait."
Finally, one of the leaders shifted. His jaw was tight, his tone defensive. "Fine. I took it. But listen here—I can’t reach my men. I won’t take responsibility if your boy’s already dead. Like you said—it was a mistake out of ignorance."
Jason nodded slowly, tapping ash into the tray. "Ah. That explains it." He raised two fingers and the feed changed again—footage from Xavier’s apartment security system. The assassins being torn apart, one by one. A slaughter.
The man’s face twisted with rage. "You bastard!" he shouted. "You knew they were mine—"
Jason cut him off with a mocking laugh. "It’s normal for a mission to fail, isn’t it? That’s the system. Don’t whine about it now."
The leader clenched his fists, but Jason’s grin only widened.
"Ten minutes," Jason said, his voice dropping into ice. "You’ll make a public confession. Or I file the entry. And then things get messy."
The holo-grid flickered as Jason ended the call, leaving twelve stunned faces in silence.
Jason leaned back, exhaled a slow stream of smoke, and flicked off the holo-grid. He stared at the empty space for a second, then grabbed his phone, scrolling until Xavier’s name popped up.
"I have done exactly what he asked me to do. I wonder what he’s planning."