Like any other day, The Big Apple was bustling. Salarymen rushing to their bosses' daily demands, fresh meats struggling to hold on to the fifteen cups of joe that could only be held so much by their two hands, and the ones above, drinking their daily dose of fancy champagne as their modern slaves answer to their every beck and call.

Everyone is in a rush. Eyes straight, and never glancing to the side, including the particular side, that lies upon; the alleyway that a shiny black sedan is currently occupying.

"Are we clear?" The voice was gruff and baritone, clearly from someone neither a salaryman, nor fresh meat. However, not too fond of champagne, either.

"Yes, sir."

Nicholas scanned the dingy alleyway with his piercing dark eyes, then eventually nodded to the door.

Jared immediately pulled the folded piece of paper on his ****** pocket and handed it to the driver, "Go here and fetch this little lady. Bring her here presentable and unharmed. Understood?"

"Of course."

Jared exited the vehicle and then opened the door of the backseat, where Nicholas was waiting.

There was a slight splash upon Nicholas' heavy step on the very shallow puddle. There was a light drizzle a while ago, it seemed that the weather cleared up for this meeting he was about to attend.

"Make it fast, Joe." Joe tipped his hat to Jared and then quickly drove off to do his errand.

"It's there." Jared pointed to the metal backdoor guarded by a very muscular guy with veins just about to pop in his limbs—it was meant to keep passersby away, but they were no passerby.

Nicholas lead the way, calmly walking as though he was back in his student days, when he was always late and just trying to make the most out of the time he was not sitting in front of nonsense blabber, but that was a story for another day.

The appointed guard, of course, instantly recognized the black hat, uncaring aura and infamous face of Nicholas Valor of the Black Hat Organization, the 'twilight' of society and the underworld.

He opened the backdoor with ease and made sure to not cross paths with the two handsome devils. They strolled in without batting an eye.

The nightclub opens for business at 8PM, so they didn't have to worry about the noise for several more hours. The last time Nicholas was here, he had not even stepped foot inside, but he could already feel the bass vibrating through the floor.

They were presented with a long plain tunnel with dimmed lights, at the very end was dark. It took a second for their vision to adjust, but they eventually caught sight of the door.

"Boss is waiting on the lounge." The guard announced just as he was told, motioning towards the end of the hall. "No detours."

Upon hearing the guard's words, Nicholas halted his steps. He slightly tilted his head just enough for his peripheral vision to catch sight of the one who dared order him.

"I'll do whatever the **** I want, when I want to." And like nothing happened, he continued his calm steps, Jared just suppressing a sigh at his superior's pride complex.

Meanwhile, the guard been left stiff, unable to even process that he had wronged a man very capable of scheduling his last breath.

I'm just doing my job. He thought, quietly closing the door, and then returned to his spot.

"He was just doing his job." Jared seemed to read his mind. "He'll probably be too scared to sleep, now."

"As if I'd ever waste my time."

The pair had passed by two doors before they were in front of the the said door that would lead them to their destination.

"I'll go first, Nick." Jared could not risk it. He'd rather die, than let Nicholas receive an ambush. With his dominant hand already holding the grip of his Glock, he slowly turned the doorknob then pushed the door quickly—only for the door to remain as it is.

"What the ****, Jared." Nicholas didn't know whether to laugh or shoot him in the head, but he figured that it was best to remain calm and then pushed his, ever the genius, second in command aside.

"But—"

"Even my grandmother can read that." Nicholas pointed at the fairly large and lit up letters that spelled 'PULL' with his thumb, then without a beat, pulled the harmless door open.

Much to Jared's utmost relief, he had not let Nicholas walk in on an ambush. At this point, he was too relieved to even be embarrassed. He didn't bother to hide his exhale.

It's your fault, Nick. Jared complained to himself. Usually, a whole squad of henchmen trails after them to act as bodyguards. This time, however, Nicholas strongly insisted to come alone, he would only let Jared come at the very most.

Nicholas has a lot of enemies. So no one can really blame Jared for being tense. Although Nicholas' strength is certainly nothing to laugh at, it was always best to be safe than sorry.

What a mother duck. Nicholas thought.

The two went inside to be presented with the buildings establishment, Narnia. It was unusual for Nicholas to see the nightclub without the crowd, there were not even a single person inside, lest you count the four large men that seemed to be waiting.

They need not exchange words to know what to do.

Two of the men went on ahead, whilst the rest waited for Jared and Nicholas to follow. Of course, they knew the procedures so they followed without much thought, although still on guard. They didn't think that the bulges on the men's side were their erection.

The guards led them to the side, and up the stairs that led them to the elevated lounge that allows you to look down on the main bar.

"Nick! Long time." A muscular man with a prominent long gash from his jaw to his brows hollered.

The lounge was relatively wide. A large circular sofa chair was placed on the middle, surrounding 2/3 of the wide circular glass table, which was currently filled with shot glasses and alcohol bottles.

"It's nice to see you're still alive and kicking." Nicholas replied, ignoring the dozen of men watching his every move.

"Gotta stay healthy." Says the man before he took a long drag of his cancer stick, then stubbing it on the ashtray. "Don't just stand there! Come sit and drink!"

Nicholas sauntered to the empty seat adjacent the boss of the establishment, then placed his black flat cap on the table before taking out his pistol. Upon doing so, the guards went rigid and pointed their own guns at the calm man. Of course, Jared took his own and pointed at the boss himself.

"You fools! Stand down." Peter Forbes' large voice filled the open space. "You should know better than to disrespect."

Peter Forbes, the 'Blonde Bear.", which is the renowned head of The Forbes Gang, known for being the friendliest ally, but dangerous foe.

His appearance speaks for itself. Although a bit debased by time, the 50 year old man is still someone who you can spot among a mass of men—in the good way. His then pure blonde locks are now mixed with grey specks, but his ever charming smile and crinkling eyes never changed. It helped that he never neglected his exercise.

Nicholas smirked because he knew they would react that way, and he still did it anyway.

"You still like making a mess, Nick? My hair will go white by the time you leave." Peter complained at his old friend. Their ages were not a hindrance to their alliance and friendship. In fact, bringing only Jared was his sign of trust, and Peter knew it.

It was only until the guards stood down, when Jared hid his gun as well. Nicholas continued what he meant to do and sat his gun above his cap and motioned for Jared to hand him something.

"Let's get down to business, Peter."

Jared stepped forward and handed him a small brown envelope that he had kept beneath his black coat. Nicholas took the envelope and flung it gently across the table so that it would slide in front of the curious Peter.

Peter took the envelope and wasted no time in pulling out the contents, only to be presented by a single piece of bond paper. He set aside the envelope focused on the paper.

"Deed Of Transfer? What are you proposing?"

Nicholas grabbed the half empty bottle of Whiskey and poured a small portion on an empty glass. "I'm proposing that you sell me this land and establishment."

"What?" Peter was surprised. "First of all, why? Did you not know I like this place? And how would you even get me to agree?"

Nicholas downed the drink in one shot and poured himself another one, but this time, not drinking it immediately.

"Let's just say I figured out why this is called 'Narnia', and that I'm expecting some foreign old friends." That was all it took for Peter to realize what he meant to deliver.

"So you're gonna use this baby of mine as a battlefield?!" The older man couldn't help but be upset, it was one of his favorite spots after all. "That's not gonna happen, Nick."

"Of course it's not. I don't mean to use this as a battlefield." He slightly waved his hand to motion to the two storey establishment, "I happen to like this place, too."

The two rarely met these days, but Nicholas would often drop by to drink the day off. He surely would not plan to destroy that.

"I value my friends, and you're a dear friend of mine, Nick." Peter paused, looking deep in thought. "I don't think I would mind at all, if you tell me what you're gonna use it for."

Through all the years of their friendship, Peter had never seen, nor heard of Nicholas wasting his resource. He was the ultimate stingy bastard.

Nicholas downed another shot and poured himself again, this time, including a second empty glass. He pushed the second glass towards Peter and motioned for him to drink. "Relax, old man."

The older man took the glass and complied, finishing it in one go. "Well?"

"I can't tell you yet." Peter opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off. "Just trust me on this. I'm gonna owe you one, if you do."

Peter was, yet again, cut off when a man stepped forward and leaned towards him, secretly whispering something that made him clench his teeth.

"Find her today! Else I'll be having your heads!" The older man could not contain himself, clearly angry. "Get everyone else! Go!"

Upon the shout, half of the men moved and hastily left the lounge, furiously chattering in their earpieces.

"A problem?" Nicholas inquired, not at all curious.

"It's nothing." Clearly it was not. "Look Nick, just give me a week. I'll think about it."

That was all that Nicholas needed. He nodded his head and reclaimed his gun, neatly placing his cap back on. "I know you'll choose the right choice, Peter."

The old man crossed his arms and sighed, "I hope I will."

"As a token of my gratitude, let me take care of something." Nicholas glanced at Jared, who nodded in return. "Come with me."

"Nick, I'm not in the mood to—"

"It's not a *****, Peter." Nicholas' gruff voice cut him off. "Let's go."

Whilst Nicholas himself would rather not divulge in prostitutes, he was known to be generous in giving them, in fact, ever since his dear wife had passed on, Peter has been the receiver more times than he would admit.

Peter rolled his eyes, "****."

By Peter's order, the guards stayed whilst the three of them sauntered back from all the way back where Nicholas and Jared came from. Waiting there was Joe, leaning against the door. When he saw the men, he immediately threw his cigarette down and stepped on it.

"No one followed?" Jared asked, whilst Nicholas had made himself comfortable by leaning on the hood of the car, crossing his fit arms.

The driver patted his side, "It's been dealt with." Then he moved closer to the back of the sedan and pulled the backdoor open.

"Dad!"

It shocked Peter to the core when a ***** did not throw herself at him, instead, was wrapped by his own daughter's thin arms. "Alison!"

The father hugged his daughter back, a load finally off his heart. He pushed her away and quickly scanned for any signs of wound. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you? I swear to God, I will—"

"It's okay. I'm fine, see?" Alison opened her arms to show herself. She was only gone for 15 hours after all.

Alison Forbes, the only child of Peter Forbes and his late wife. She was a carbon copy of her father, blonde hair and a charming smile, but instead of her father's mud eyes, she had fortunately inherited her mother's emerald ones.

Peter kissed the forehead of his daughter and turned to face Nicholas. "I won't even ask why and how."

It was no secret that Peter loved his daughter dearly, thus Alison automatically becomes the target for the legend's enemies.

"Thank you, Nick."

"Thank your genes. One of my men spotted her hair while getting pulled into a van." Nicholas shrugged and pulled himself away from the car, "I let them follow, and found out it was indeed your daughter."

That was not completely true, of course. But Nicholas decided that they need not know.

"If I flat out refused your proposal, would you have returned her, Nick?"

By this time, both men were now facing off against each other. Neither hostile nor happy. Peter towered over the younger man, but it's not that Nicholas was short, it's just that Peter was about 7 feet—some even say that he's Shaquille's farthest cousin.

"I believed you wouldn't, Peter."

Both were aware of the answer, but neither were offended. After all, business is business.

Peter sighed and lightly patted Nicholas' back, "I'll send the contract after I go through it."

"Take your time, Peter." Nicholas responded, and rode the car through the ajar door of the backseat.

Peter and Alison stood aside, waiting for it to leave as Jared and Joe hopped on the car. When Joe had finally turned on the ignition of the vehicle, Nicholas rolled the window down.

He threw an object, which Peter instantly caught. "That's for Alison. Feel free to ask for more." Then the black sedan drove off, leaving the two with the view of the vehicle's rear until it turned to the curb.

In wonder, Alison asked, "What is it?"

The two peered at the object, and Peter scoffed when he caught sight of the infamous crest of Nick's organization. Upon deeming it harmless, he handed it to her daughter and slung an arm around her neck, leading them inside.

It was a black steel spray container, small enough to fit into your pocket, but large enough for it to hurt when hurled at you. Alison rotated the container to see 'Pepper Spray" in bold and simple font.

She blinked, then held on to Nicholas' gift, making a mental reminder to ask her father to ask for more, for her to put in every pocket that she had. She'd rather not repeat the incident.