Earth Chapter 5: Flames of Vengeance

"Young Master, last night someone tried to break into our group's office building," A-Long said, following me. "Have you figured out who they were?" I asked.

"According to the intelligence team, some were from Chinese National Security, some were European and American agents, and others were from smaller countries. The biggest group was from J-country."

"The Chinese government seems more focused on protecting us. As for the others, no doubt they're after our drug formula," I said. "How's A-Hu doing?" A-Long, A-Hu, A-Bao, and A-Lang were orphans, now eighteen-year-old elites leading the thousand-man army. They all took my surname, Makino. Each led two hundred men. Besides A-Long, who handled headquarters security and black-on-black ops, the other three were sent to Japan, the US, and Europe. I had them sell off my old black-on-black "white flour" stashes. My motto: keep China drug-free and give foreigners a taste of their own Opium War. If we don't sell, someone else will—better I make the money. After all, I'm a patriotic, upstanding youth.

"A-Hu says the buyers want huge shipments. Should we contact Myanmar?" A-Long asked.

"I think we can. Send someone to negotiate. If it works, great. If not, wipe them out and we'll produce and sell ourselves. We're the new-age mafia—love the motherland, love the people, love women, love gold bars. Keep those in mind, and you're set."

"Got it. I'll tell them to handle it. Oh, Young Master, those Japanese seem to be from some Kikuta Clan," A-Long added.

"A single gang dares to mess with us? Looks like they're competing with us on the legit side too, or their government hired them to steal our data. Little Japan loves this trick—when they get caught, they claim it's just civilians or gangs." Kikuta Clan, huh? Enemies always cross paths. If they want to play big, I'll entertain them. Been a while since I stretched my legs—feeling a bit stiff.

"According to A-Bao's intel, the Kikuta Clan runs a Kikuta Pharmaceutical Company, laundering their dirty money through high-cost drugs," A-Long continued.

"If they're coming for us, we'll play along. It's a people's struggle. Keep a close eye on things at home. We're a big tree now, attracting wind. I'm not afraid of one-on-one fights, but a coalition could be trouble," I said with a grin.

"Young Master, how many people are you taking this time?" A-Long asked.

"Dark Dragon Team—ten men, ten women. We'll go as tourists. Too many people would draw attention. Split into three groups. For weapons, tell A-Bao to prepare heavy stuff. To leave no traces, even A-Bao's team can't join this op," I analyzed.

"What if the Young Mistress asks?" A-Long said, worried.

"Don't worry, I'll handle it." Sure, I was a bit concerned, but a man's got to save face. Can't show weakness in front of subordinates, or how would I lead? A-Long gave me a skeptical look. "Young Master, I think we should tell the Young Mistress. Otherwise, I'll be in for it…"

"A-Long, what's with that look? Have some faith in me. The Young Mistress is pregnant—how's she gonna show up at this African desert base? If she needs me, she'll call. To save time, pull ten men and ten women each from China, Taiwan, and the US. It'll spread the target and save time. That's it—I'm flying out."

"Young Master, how can you do this? How could I bear to see you make me kneel on a washboard?" A-Long wailed, heartbroken, recalling last time's misery. I'd snuck off to Antarctica for a trip, and when Xue'er found out, she cried red-eyed for a week. A beauty's tears are lethal. A-Long's girlfriend couldn't stand it and made him kneel on a washboard all night, warning that next time, it'd stack up. The past was too painful to revisit. A-Long watched my plane vanish, still sobbing.

I took a cab from the airport to A-Bao's secret base. "Greetings, Young Master!" Over two hundred people stood in neat rows, bowing and shouting. "Brothers, you've worked hard!"

"Young Master, the US Dark Team hasn't arrived yet. Should we wait?" A-Bao reported.

"No. I snuck out without telling your sister-in-law. Gotta get back fast, or A-Long's kneeling on that washboard again. Brief them when we're ready to move." A-Bao laughed, thinking of A-Long's plight. "I've got it good—no girlfriend, total freedom."

"A-Bao, set up obstacles on the road where the cops will come. If they show at the three intersections, block them—three men per spot. The rest follow me to storm their headquarters." At 7 p.m., the US Dark Team arrived. I laid out the plan for a 9 p.m. strike. Our mole said tonight was a big meeting for their key members. Heh, perfect—saves me the trouble of hunting them down one by one.

At 9 p.m. sharp, we moved out. A-Bao's team hauled explosives and weapons. The Dark Team's eyes gleamed with beastly bloodlust. They'd all survived mercenary deathmatches after training to qualify as Dark Team members.

"Ichiro, why haven't you gotten the Yellow Dragon Group's drug formula yet? What are you doing?" the Kikuta Clan leader barked.

"President, their security is tight, and Chinese National Security is involved. It's tough to make a move," Ichiro replied.

"I don't care about excuses—I want results. You know, with their formula, we could make way more money and clean our other businesses' cash. You've got one month. Understood?"

"Hai!" In the Kikuta Clan's headquarters, a large wooden room, over sixty big and small bosses sat in a circle.

"Young Master, there's over a hundred people in the compound," a Dark Team scout reported. "Take out the hidden sentries first. Don't worry about running out of explosives." While the little Japanese were lost in their get-rich-quick fantasies, I arrived. I grabbed a rocket launcher and fired at the wooden house. The Dark Team paired up—one manned a heavy machine gun, the other chucked grenades or fired an RG-7. They never expected someone to attack so brazenly. As their men dropped, our team activated their protective true energy and charged, laughing as they killed. Handguns had no effect on them—they stood there, untouched. My phone rang. "Young Master, the Self-Defense Forces are here!"

"Send someone to that damn shrine. We're playing big this time."

"Sweet, on it!" A-Bao, thrilled to ditch road duty, sent a subordinate and headed out.

"Brothers, hurry up! We've still got a fight with the damn 'Pistol Team'!"

"Hell yeah!" Hearing they could go bigger, the team killed with even more gusto—a total one-sided slaughter. "Young Master, none escaped, but we grabbed a few female high schoolers," a Dark Team member reported.

"What kind of trash high schoolers? Garbage. Rape them all, leave no survivors, and hurry up."

"You got it, Young Master!" These guys loved two things: war and women. It was also a way to blow off steam.

"Young Master, the damn Pistol Team's got tanks now!" A-Bao's voice came through, mixed with cannon fire.

"Tell the brothers to go close-quarters!" Tanks are useless against bulletproof guys. When we arrived, A-Bao's team, faces masked with only eyes showing, darted through the crowd, firing without fear of friendly fire. "Let's hit them from behind!" Now the J-country Pistol Team was screwed—already facing unkillable monsters, and now another group from the rear.

"Young Master, we're out of bombs and bullets," A-Bao said.

"Damn it, we used everything. Pull back as planned." The poor Pistol Team's two regiments—thousands of men—were wiped out. Once gunfire started, the streets emptied, shops shuttered, making our retreat easier. Two Dark Team members drove stolen tanks, blasting buildings behind us. After, they climbed out, rigged the tanks with explosives, and blew them up.

These guys had endless energy—after a fight, they were back at it, banging chicks hard. The room reeked of sex. J-country locked down for two days, concluding it was a gang war with no leads. We returned happily on day three, in the order we came.