Episode 1

*Xavier Bulgare*

Sequestered in my office at the mouthpiece, I finish the bookkeeping of the cash accounts here at the highland complex. The night was lengthy, another party where Rio's elite flocked to the slum with the aim of amusement. And no, I didn't misspeak; by 'elite' I meant the snobbish rich that emerge daily in my zone to get high on cocaine. My focus on paperwork is interrupted when one of the young runners enters. Glancing at him, my stern expression is sufficing for him to grasp that I'm far from pleased with his intrusion into my damn office.

"Salute, boss."

His gaze drops to the radio he clutches.

"GB sent a message; he's at the lookout. One of the coppers has come for the cash and is attempting to ascend."

In silence, I gesture for the youth to scram. I draw my loaded semi-automatic from the drawer and slip it onto my waist. The truth is, this mess is spiraling out of control ever since we refrained from executing those government dogs and began dealing with them. They're never content with what we provide, always craving more. The only reason they haven't scrapped this sham of an understanding is because having me as an ally is far more advantageous than having me as a foe. I mount my bike and head towards the lookout, which hardly functions as an observatory anymore. It was picturesque, you know. I recall my old man taking me there as a kid. Now, it's the nerve center of our operations, the hub where my lookouts and runners gather to maintain security. I alight from the bike, and the moment Leonel sees me, he steps away from the cluster of runners encircling him. GB brushes his hair back and approaches with a backpack in hand.

"Take it, man. If you want to leave this hill alive, grab the cash and scram," he says, trying to reason with the corrupt officer before him.

"I already said it."

He shouts, as though wishing for me to overhear.

"I won't settle for this pittance. The stakes have changed."

I halt before them, GB reading the forthcoming events in my eyes.

"Boss."

His stare fixed on me, he steps back, tossing the backpack aside.

"Go on."

I face Leonel, withdrawing my weapon from my waistband.

"You were saying something, but from my position, I couldn't catch it."

I aim the gun squarely at his forehead, and he recoils.

"Thinking you're all macho\, son of a b****. But in this hell\, there's only one king\, and he's mad and selfish enough not to give a damn about what you want."

Leonel gulps, his counterfeit bravado melting away like a magic trick.

"I'm just obeying orders, Venom. You know Marcone calls the shots."

"I don't play cards."

His silent gaze meets mine.

"If your boss has something to say, he knows precisely where to find me. Let him come to my hill, sit with me in my office, and depending on his offer, I might reconsider our deal. For now, the price stands as is. I'm paying more than fair for the lousy service he's been providing."

I toss the backpack, and he catches it, stumbling away without looking back.

"Thought you'd send the guy to hell, Venom," GB jests while lighting a cigarette.

"I might."

I do the same, and he watches me.

"I need that fool and Marcone's idiot alive for tomorrow's business. The police can't interfere with our raid on the Russians' place. It's a significant scheme, Gutenberg, and I won't tolerate any slip-ups."

He nods.

"Did we get the intel we needed from the contact in the mansion? The guard shift changes at the gate and the girl's route?"

"Nope. The snitch is all tangled up. Some cousin of the girl's arrived last night, and from what he says, they're inseparable. We might have to take two instead of one as planned."

I eye GB with displeasure, not fond of my plans being derailed by foolish setbacks. The fact he's the sole friend I retain is what's saving the skin of the screw-up he's shielding.

"We'll handle it, boss. The kidnap's as good as done."

I get back on the bike as he and the runners watch me.

"Better be, bruh. You know I don't forgive mistakes. Either we bring that girl to the hill tomorrow, or your cousin's going to have to come up with the cash some other way, remember? Twelve million."

He nods.

"That's what he claimed her worth is. I'll skin him if he flubs it."

Gutemberg Frigari, aged 25, better known as GB, right-hand man to Xavier, and sub-leader of the Chapadao Complex.

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