East or West, Home is Best

The night reeked of blood, gunpowder... and opportunity.

Viktor sat cross-legged in the centre of the ruins, where Ivan once ruled like a king. Now, nothing but bullet-ridden walls and ash remained. And in the middle of it all? A fire — his fire — roaring into the night.

The survivors came one by one, slicing their palms and bleeding into the ceremonial bowl. One by one, they pledged loyalty.

Ivan was gone.

Viktor had arrived.

And he didn't come to play gangster. He came to rewrite the rules.

< SATOSHIS RESIDENCE>

Satoshi's fist met his desk with a dull thud. He didn't flinch as the mahogany cracked — he only stared at the red folder his informant had dropped on the table.

Viktor had taken the compound. Ivan's compound.

He clenched his jaw.

"Ivan was a rabid dog. Predictable. Easy to leash."

Viktor was different. Cold. Precise. Strategic.

Worse — he had nothing to lose, and everything to prove.

Satoshi reached for his encrypted phone to assemble the council—until the sound hit him.

Low, guttural. Mechanical.

A drone?

No — _that_ drone.

His eyes narrowed. A Shaheed-136. Iranian-built. Government-grade.

"Fuck," he muttered, leaping just as the window exploded in a ball of fire.

▸ LOCATION: TOKYO — UNKNOWN BASEMENT SHRINE

"East or West... home is best," Hochi Mein muttered, fingers stroking his snow-white beard.

Aoki was coming home.

And blood would follow.

The only question was: Whose?

.