The South-Central Front

The air was thick with anticipation as the shadows stretched over the South-Central Front. A grand mansion stood in isolation, hidden deep within the forested hills, its towering gates and high walls a perfect fortress for what was about to unfold. The quiet rumble of engines echoed through the night as a convoy of sleek black cars snaked its way up the winding path. Inside the estate, everything had been meticulously prepared—this meeting was no ordinary gathering. It was the birth of something dangerous, something powerful: a new mafia, and at its helm, three formidable men.

Karl stood by the large bay windows of the mansion's study, his hands clasped behind his back, the light from the chandeliers casting sharp shadows on his tall, lean figure. His sharp eyes scanned the incoming cars as they rolled to a halt in the cobblestone courtyard below. His face was expressionless, but his mind raced with the gravity of the moment. Years of planning, manipulation, and ruthless ambition had led to this night.

Behind him, Gustav sat lazily in a plush leather chair, his body relaxed but his eyes cold and calculating. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily upward, and exhaled, sending a cloud into the air. "They're on time," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "No surprises there."

Arjan, leaning casually against the wooden desk, crossed his arms over his broad chest. His face, scarred from past battles, bore a slight smirk. "Karl doesn't tolerate lateness. They know better."

Karl turned to face them, his expression finally cracking into a faint smile. "Indeed," he said. His voice was smooth, calculated, every syllable heavy with authority. "Tonight, we begin something new—something bigger than any of us have ever achieved. But first, let's greet our new family."

One by one, the guests arrived. The grand foyer filled with a mix of military leaders, underworld figures, and specialists from across the globe. Their names were whispered with a mix of fear and respect in every corner of the criminal world, but here, they came together for a singular purpose: to build an empire.

The heavy oak doors opened, and the first to step inside was Kamat-ayan, a man known only by his ominous moniker—death incarnate. His appearance lived up to the name: tall, gaunt, and dressed in black from head to toe, his presence sent a chill through the room. He offered a curt nod to Karl, who returned it in kind.

Behind him, Col. E. Mergency, formerly of the MCU 2, walked in with an air of rigid military precision. His sharp, measured steps contrasted with the chaotic energy of the gathering. He was followed closely by Col. TY Hashim of ML 12, whose reputation for being unshakable in the heat of battle had earned him a place here.

Col. Usok Maaso of COD 2 entered next, his eyes darting around the room, scanning for potential threats or weaknesses. His demeanor was cautious, but Karl had handpicked him for his tactical mind and ruthless efficiency. Not far behind was Col. Oscar Tapias of BTS 4, the former covert operative whose skill in infiltration and sabotage had made him infamous.

The door swung open again, and in strode Col. B. Sikleta of PUBG 3, a man whose physical presence dominated the room. His massive frame and sharp jawline were enough to make anyone think twice before crossing him. Col. O Nasaan of ASAP Command entered next, his face a mask of stoic professionalism, his calm demeanor hiding the fire that Karl knew burned within.

The military men fell into formation, but the gathering was far from over. Admiral Kalas, tall and stern with silver streaks running through his dark hair, entered with a commanding presence. Beside him, Gen. Rene Repair, known for his almost miraculous ability to rebuild broken forces, gave a respectful nod to Karl. They had all sworn their allegiance, and tonight, they would pledge it publicly.

Next came M.G.G Hasa, a shadowy figure whose work behind the scenes had toppled governments and destabilized nations. He moved like a whisper, silent but deadly. Lilian Amantor, a former intelligence operative, followed closely, her eyes sharp and calculating. She had once been on the other side of the law but now stood ready to bring her skills to the table. Her entrance was followed by Chloe Cecilio, her expression haunted. She had been the victim of unspeakable violence, and though she had once been broken, tonight she would be reborn. Leonard, her tormentor, would regret underestimating her.

Then, as if to break the tension, the doors flew open dramatically, and in came Nenotchka. Dressed flamboyantly in bright colors and dripping with jewelry, he was a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere. He flitted into the room with exaggerated gestures, blowing kisses to everyone in sight. "Darlings, this is fabulous!" he exclaimed, before throwing himself onto a velvet chaise. But beneath the theatricality was a dangerous ally, one who had connections in places no one else did.

Edgardo Caluag and Emerson Luag entered next, their plain appearances hiding their deadly skill sets. Both were specialists in clandestine operations, men whose work had left no trace, except in the whispers of the underworld. Ka Bering, a revolutionary fighter, followed, his weathered face showing the scars of decades of combat, his eyes burning with the fire of his cause.

As the final figures made their way in, Tiffany Yoon appeared at Karl's side, dressed impeccably in a sharp, tailored suit. Her presence was commanding, yet elegant—Karl's deputy in every way, sharing the title with Arjan. She moved with purpose, her sharp eyes catching every detail of the room. As the doors closed behind her, Jamie, her bandmate, entered, a softer but no less competent figure. Jamie would serve as Karl's new secretary, taking over some of Tiffany's duties to free her for the higher responsibilities of the mafia's inner workings.

Finally, Chuck, the enforcer, stood at the back of the room, silent but ever-watchful. His hands, thick and calloused from years of brutal enforcement, rested at his sides, ready for action at a moment's notice. His very presence was a reminder of the consequences of disloyalty.

As the last of the guests settled, Karl stepped forward, his voice slicing through the murmurs like a blade. "Welcome," he began, his eyes sweeping across the room. "Tonight, we forge an alliance that will change the course of power in this world. We have come from different places, different backgrounds, but we share one goal: absolute control. There will be no room for weakness, no room for failure."

The room was silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

Gustav, still seated, tapped ash from his cigarette and leaned forward. "We're not here for half measures," he added, his tone sharp. "We've all tasted power in one form or another, but this is something greater. We're going to be legends."

Arjan, still leaning against the desk, uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to the group. "You've all been chosen for a reason," he said, his deep voice commanding attention. "Your skills, your ruthlessness, your loyalty. We don't tolerate betrayal, and we don't tolerate failure. If any of you think you can play both sides, think again. Chuck here will remind you why that's a bad idea."

A low chuckle rippled through the room as Chuck cracked his knuckles, a grin spreading across his rugged face.

Tiffany stepped forward, her presence immediately drawing attention. "We operate in the shadows, but our impact will be felt everywhere. Governments, corporations, military—no one will be out of our reach. You're not just joining a mafia; you're becoming part of an empire."

The room filled with murmurs of agreement, the weight of the moment sinking in for all present. Every one of them had their own reasons for being here—power, revenge, survival—but tonight, they would become something more.

Karl raised his hand, and the room fell silent again. "This is your family now," he said, his voice low but powerful. "And together, we will reshape the world."

As the night deepened, the gathering continued. Strategies were discussed, alliances solidified, and the foundations of their empire began to take shape. The South-Central Front had become the birthplace of something terrifying—a force that would shake the world to its core.

------

The marble floors of the government building gleamed under the fluorescent lights as Karl Marino, Arjan, and Gustav Ojeda made their way toward the private conference room. The air was thick with tension, the gravity of the upcoming meeting clear to everyone. Karl walked with purpose, his face set in determination. Beside him, Arjan, with his tousled hair and nonchalant swagger, was tapping a cigar thoughtfully against his hand. Gustav, ever the composed figure, carried a briefcase, his sharp gaze scanning their surroundings.

As they approached the heavy oak door, two suited guards stepped aside to allow them entry. The weight of what was to come settled over them like a shroud.

Inside the room, the Secretary of the Interior, James Ponti Enriquez, stood waiting. He was a tall man with a commanding presence, his graying hair neatly combed and his dark suit impeccably tailored. Behind his spectacles, his piercing eyes evaluated the trio as they entered. A seasoned politician, James had seen his share of power struggles and alliances, and he wasn't easily impressed.

Karl extended his hand first, meeting James's firm grip with equal strength. "Secretary Enriquez, thank you for seeing us."

James nodded, his expression neutral. "Mr. Marino, Arjan, Gustav. I understand this meeting was requested urgently. What can I do for you?"

As they all sat, the room seemed to shrink with the intensity of the moment. Karl leaned forward, his fingers laced together on the table. "We're here because the stakes have never been higher. The situation in Sierra de Oro is escalating, and we need allies — powerful ones. The marijuana business is booming, and with the expansion plans, certain… challenges are arising. I believe we can be mutually beneficial to each other."

Arjan, always the one to speak bluntly, cut in. "Look, James, we're not here to beat around the bush. You know what we bring to the table — influence, money, and control. We want to make sure you're on our side when things start heating up."

James raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His silence was an invitation for them to continue.

Gustav, ever the diplomat, leaned in smoothly. "Secretary Enriquez, what Arjan means is that we're willing to offer support to your office. Political favors, financial backing, whatever is necessary. We just need the reassurance that you'll have our backs when the government starts asking questions."

James sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. "You're asking for quite a bit. You know as well as I do that this is a dangerous game. The political climate is unstable, and aligning with your venture could raise more than a few eyebrows."

Karl's gaze didn't waver. "We're aware of the risks, but we've calculated every move. The marijuana business isn't just about money — it's about control, influence, and securing power for the future. You've built your career on smart alliances, Secretary Enriquez. We're offering you one now."

The room fell into a tense silence. James tapped his chin thoughtfully, his mind clearly weighing the pros and cons. He had been in politics long enough to recognize when an opportunity was too good to pass up, but he also understood the cost.

Arjan, sensing the hesitation, leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near growl. "With all due respect, James, this is your chance to be part of something that will change the landscape of this country. We're talking about millions — no, billions — in revenue, and the political power that comes with it. Do you really want to be on the outside looking in?"

James's eyes flicked to Arjan, then back to Karl. His decision had been made, but he wasn't going to show it too quickly. "And what exactly do you need from me?" he finally asked.

Karl leaned back slightly, exhaling softly. "Support. Your silence when it's needed, your influence with the right people. We handle the business side — all you need to do is make sure no one interferes."

James nodded slowly, a small smirk forming on his lips. "I think I can work with that. But understand this — if things go sideways, I won't be caught in the fallout."

Gustav was the first to speak, his voice measured and calm. "We wouldn't expect anything less. But let's be clear: we've prepared for every contingency. If you stand with us, we'll make sure you're protected."

Karl added, "And handsomely rewarded."

James rose from his seat, extending his hand once again. "Very well, gentlemen. You have my support. But don't make me regret it."

Karl stood, shaking James's hand firmly. "You won't. This is only the beginning."

As the trio left the office, the weight of the conversation hung heavy in the air. Karl knew they had secured a critical alliance, but there was still much to do.

Arjan lit the cigar he had been fidgeting with earlier, blowing out a cloud of smoke as they walked to the car. "That went well," he muttered with a grin. "We've got him in our pocket now."

Gustav nodded in agreement, though his expression remained serious. "Let's just make sure we keep our promises."

Karl, however, was already thinking two steps ahead, his mind racing with plans for expansion and the challenges that lay ahead. The road they had chosen was fraught with danger, but with James Ponti Enriquez on their side, they were one step closer to securing their empire.

As they drove away from the government building, Karl glanced at the skyline of Manila, a city on the brink of change. And he was determined to be at the forefront of that change.