Two Days Later
Rain poured heavily across Chicago that night.
The city lights reflected across wet streets while distant sirens echoed between towering buildings. Deep within the South Side, music blasted violently from a nightclub owned by the Moretti family, one of the oldest criminal organizations still operating within the city.
Inside the VIP lounge on the highest floor, cigar smoke and expensive alcohol filled the air while n laughed loudly around a poker table.
Marco Moretti sat at the center. The fat aging mob boss leaned back comfortably while a young woman poured him another glass of whiskey. Around him stood ard guards dressed in expensive suits while music vibrated softly through the walls.
Then Marco froze and his smile disappeared. The whiskey glass slipped from his hand and shattered across the floor.
At first nobody understood what happened. Then blood began leaking from his nose.
The old man’s body convulsed violently before collapsing sideways from the chair.
"Boss!"
Chaos erupted instantly.
Several n rushed toward him while others reached for weapons instinctively as if expecting attackers.
But there were no gunshots. Marco Moretti simply laid there twitching weakly with fear frozen permanently inside his eyes.
Dead.
Within seconds, panic spread across the room.
"Call the ambulance!"
"What the fuck happened?!"
"Move!"
anwhile, several streets away Damian sat quietly inside his SUV while watching rain slide across the windows.
Rin rested lazily in the backseat while Loth sat at the driver’s seat.
Buzz!
Damain’s eyes snapped open as he if he had been pulled back to reality. To carry out this assassination, he has sent his soul directly and relied on his azure flas to burn Marco’s soul to ashes.
It was the perfect assassination attempt that can never be tracked.
Across from him, Twenty stared blankly.
"What the fuck did you just do?"
Damian calmly at the building before responding.
"What I promised to do."
Twenty stared harder.
"No seriously, what the fuck did you just do?"
Damian leaned back against the seat calmly.
"I removed your competition."
Twenty went silent.
Everyone could hear Loth’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel while rain hamred the windshield harder due to the silence.
For several monts, he simply stared ahead and then he laughed nervously. Not because it was funny. Because he genuinely did not know how else to react anymore.
A few months ago Damian had offered to give him this cartel and now the greatest competition to the position of kingpin is dead.
"Just like that?" He muttered in disbelief.
Damian glanced toward him briefly.
"If I can do this, is there any reason to prolong it?"
The answer ca too naturally and Twenty shook his head slowly before sighing.
"So what’s the plan now?"
Damian looked out toward the rain soaked city.
"The old system controls Chicago through fear and greed. We will replace it with dependence."
Twenty frowned slightly and Damian continued calmly.
"Drug routes. Protection rackets. Gambling. Clubs. Private security. Loan systems. Street crews. Everyone controlling these sources of revenue will be removed and replaced with your people."
Twenty slowly began understanding. The mont old powers started collapsing mysteriously, fear would spread. Nobody would know who to trust and that vacuum created opportunity.
Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Over the next few weeks, important people will continue dying. I would have preferred to get it done in a day but the fear factor matters. So I’ll have to be patient."
Twenty glanced toward Damian. His friend felt different in a way he couldn’t understand. Damian was seated beside him yet he felt distant.
Before Twenty could ask further, his phone rang. The loud ringtone startled him slightly and he glanced at the screen.
It was an unknown number, so he answered cautiously.
"...Yeah?"
A frantic voice exploded through the speaker.
"Twenty! What the hell is happening?! Marco just died!"
Twenty imdiately glanced toward Damian. The voice continued shouting.
Another call ca through imdiately afte, then another and another.
Within less than two minutes, Twenty’s phone looked like it was exploding.
Damian quietly watched.
The city had begun moving exactly as expected. Fear spread faster than bullets.
By morning, every major organization in Chicago would know a powerful figure died mysteriously without explanation.
And by the second death, panic would truly begin. Twenty slowly lowered the phone.
"...This is going to start a war."
Damian shook his head.
"No."
His eyes drifted toward the glowing skyline outside.
"This is going to end one."
Three weeks later, Chicago no longer felt stable.
Another cartel financier died while eating dinner with his family and several more followers, causing rumors spread wildly across the criminal underworld.
So blad rival organizations while others whispered about governnt assassinations. A few terrified n even began speaking about curses.
And through all the chaos Twenty moved under Damians instructions.
Whenever violence threatened to spiral out of control Twenty sohow appeared with solutions.
And strangely the organizations connected to him remained untouched. That alone beca terrifying.
By the end of the month, the deed was done. The criminal underworld of Chicago had not fallen through a bloody war.
It had simply reorganized itself.
The transition was so smooth that many outsiders failed to realize anything had happened at all. Businesses continued operating and the streets remained active.
Nightclubs still opened every evening, yet behind the scenes, every major decision now flowed through one man.
Twenty.
The few individuals stubborn enough to resist had died under mysterious circumstances. After enough funerals, resistance stopped looking brave and started looking stupid.
anwhile, Damian’s third clone had quietly beco one of the most important figures in Twenty’s growing empire. He appeared as nothing more than an exceptionally talented legal advisor.
While Chicago’s criminal landscape stabilized beneath Twenty’s rule, another force began expanding even faster. The Ministry of Love began outreach programs in hospitals, community centers, rehabilitation facilities and shelters.
Miracles were perford repeatedly on live tv and the footage spread online.
So called him a prophet while others called him a fraud but every debate created more attention and attention beca influence..
The parish itself changed rapidly.What was once a small place of worship slowly transford into sothing far larger. The parking lot remained full from sunrise until midnight as visitors arrived from neighboring states.
Before long prayer groups ford, volunteer organizations expanded, and donation funds exploded.
People began wearing symbols associated with the Ministry of Love and small businesses appeared around the parish to serve the endless stream of visitors.
Entire communities started forming around the movent. Within months, the Ministry of Love stopped feeling like a religion and beca a cult.
Exactly the kind of foundation Damian needed to win his elections.
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