A Raw Dish

(PLEASE NOTE: TIME SKIP HERE OF ONE WEEK. Sorry, if the story skipped the whole week.)

"Almost every element of the plan is set."

A man wearing a black custom-tailored suit held a glass of wine in his right hand. He was in front of the glass wall of his condominium. It was on the 48th floor of the Toranomon Hills Tower in Tokyo. His living room was lavished with a minimalistic white design. At the center, there was a white sofa, and a small coffee table, and in front of it are multiple widescreen monitors as if it was a video surveillance room.

One of the screens switched to a news channel.

***A week has passed, Suspects for Rape-Slay Case still not...***

Switch*

***Casanova Corp. stock plummet as CEO and Heads arrested for...*** Switch*

***Missing Charity Org. Leadership linked to Laundering Syndicate?...***

"AI, please send the messages to Mr. Botan Saburo and Mr. Akira Abe and prepare the car in the parking lot," Yuri said.

He took a sip of his wine and furiously smashed it on the floor. He breathed heavily and gripped himself as if to stop something inside him from coming out. "Nine days have passed, Gaia. I won't delay any longer."

"Messages have been sent and your ride is ready Master," a feminine-voiced AI said.

Yuri headed to the elevator. He glanced at his reflection and saw himself in his expensive suit and shoes. He spitted at his image. "Weak. Not enough." He headed to the parking lot and his Black BMW had been waiting for him. His AI drove the car right in front of him just as he stepped out of the elevator. "Huh. You can do that now?" Yuri said.

A little surprised that he was starting to get used to the convenience his AI gave him. In the past week, the AI had helped him manage the 10 Billion dollars he had. It helped him invest in stocks and real estate. Because of the AI's Cyber Offensive Capabilities, hacking information for Insider Trading was as easy as washing hands. Well, sort of the same thing since the AI found ways to legitimize the dirty money from the Criminal Syndicate. He traded in Forex, Cryptocurrencies, and NASDAQ stocks, and even bought Bonds, allowing him to grow his financial wealth passively.

"Even with all the money in the world, it's still not enough," Yuri said. He went to the driver's seat and told the AI to drive him to the Ritz-Carlton Grand Hotel in Tokyo. The car drove by itself and left the building.

Botan had organized a private party at the Hotel's Ballroom.

"AI, can you text Mr. Saburo and ask him if all the important guests have arrived?"

The party was exclusive and the guest list had exclusively invited all the Mixed Martial Arts Coaches and Masters from all over Japan. The top-tier fighting athletes had also been invited, ranging from boxing, wrestling, Muay Thai, Taek Won Do, and every fighting style that existed. Botan had organized the party and invited the guests under the guise of a charity event for Athletes and Martial Artists and the event had a special sponsor.

Yuri arrived at the hotel and told the AI to park the car. He walked in from the back door and changed into a waiter's uniform. It fit him well since he was just 18 years old and skinny. No one would suspect him.

Passing through the kitchen, all the kitchen staff paid no mind to him. They were busy cooking and rushing to finalize the food quickly, as they had been instructed to leave the floor once the meals have been served on the buffet tables. This was one of the most unusual instructions they have received. A cook holding a pan and tossing more salt into the food said, "Fucking rich people, probably gonna have drugs and prostitutes. That's why they want us to leave later. Fuckin booked three whole floors. Why can't they share with the little guys from time to time?"

Yuri lifted a bowl of wagyu beef and headed for the door to the ballroom where the event was being held.

"Hey, you! Where are you headed with that?" the sous chef said. "That's fucking raw! You fucking idiot! Do you want to get fired?"

Yuri's hand, at lightning speed, hit the man in the back of the head and rendered him unconscious. He had the Lesser Magitek Brass Knuckles in his pocket.

"Good thing, I brought this thing," Yuri said. He caught the sous chef and put him on the corner.

He opened the door and the ballroom was filled with huge muscular men, and the women looked even more dangerous. "So this is Japan's Katana, huh." Yuri said.

Impressed, he observed the room, and the most famous coaches and masters had clumped at one table. They had been talking about who's fighting style was more effective in taking down a single enemy, the argument went a little sour, but they all laughed at the end. "Truly, the discipline of training and mastering their bodies and minds have made them men of honor." Yuri put the bowl of raw Wagyu beef on the buffet table. Botan saw him, and he signaled him with his right hand making a small wave motion.

Wearing a traditional Japanese Hakama attire, Botan walked to the center of the ballroom and raised both his hands above his head, garnering the attention of all the guests.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. May I have your attention?"

Botan spoke with a slow but deep voice. Like a presenter taking the stage, his voice ringed around the room and his huge body would make him the center of focus for the party. Everyone was silent.

The doors to the ballroom had been locked and all the hotel staff had left the hall.

He directed his hands and gestured towards the coaches and masters at the table.

"Masters, Coaches, Teachers of the Martial Arts, you have been arguing… which fighting style is the best. The trained wrestler would say, wrestling… Since you can tackle your opponent efficiently and smash him on the floor with ease. The Wing Chun master would say they are the best… with eye gouges and throat breakers, you can use the human body as a lethal weapon. The Kenjutsu master would say… They are the most dangerous style. With the sharp blade of the Katana, the result of combat would leave the enemy limbless and their head removed with the swiftest swings. But I will tell you…"

All the fighters stopped what they were doing, and gave him all their focus. Botan lowered his right hand to his back and took out a 45. Caliber Glock 30 compact pistol and shot two bullets at the ceiling.

Bang* Bang*

Dust from the ceiling floated down and all the guests jerked from where they stood. They prepared themselves to tackle Botan but no one attempted to come close for fear of being shot.