Only the two men, Luca and Viggo Tarasov, remained in the spacious hall.
John didn't want to get involved in business matters like this, and he knew his boss was sensitive about them. So after dropping Luca off, he quietly left the room.
After a few polite pleasantries, Viggo brought up Teddy and the two gamblers, offering an apology.
"I heard about Teddy and Mike's situation. I'm sorry. Teddy is very dedicated to his work, which led to this misunderstanding. He didn't intend to hurt your friend."
Just a misunderstanding.
The upward curve of Luca's eyes made his smile look unusually tough.
"Misunderstandings are fine. Clearing them up only strengthens relationships. Just like when my man accidentally injured your son on the racetrack—he was simply driving too fast and never meant to hit Iosef Tarasov's car."
Viggo held a cigar and nodded with a faint smile.
"That incident was actually good for Iosef. Hopefully it teaches him not to act so impulsively. Young people should learn a bit more maturity."
"Then you're underestimating your son," Luca replied casually. "But I agree—composure is a virtue. That's why I crippled Worm's right hand to teach him a lesson. He should understand that while he may cheat a thousand times at the poker table, once he meets a real deal like Teddy, he'll never cheat again for the rest of his life."
Viggo's smile faded slightly.
A hint of caution appeared in his eyes.
He now understood something clearly.
The Butcher could transform into a Dove of Peace—someone whose killing ability rivaled the Baba Yaga, yet who also carried the title of Peace Ambassador.
The most frightening part?
He was still so young.
Viggo glanced at the dark skin on the back of his hand. It no longer held the vitality it once had.
He picked up his wine glass.
The two men raised their glasses and smiled, the misunderstanding temporarily resolved.
---
Next came the real discussion: the gasoline tax business, Russian oil smuggling, and port operations.
Abram spoke first.
"Dove, how are things going at the port?"
"We've already made a fortune from the gasoline tax," he continued. "If our oil could pass directly through New York State ports, we'd earn even more."
At present, Russian oil operations were concentrated further north, in places like Boston. Although Boston wasn't far from New York, it was still another state.
Outside of tourism, interstate business wasn't as simple as moving goods from one place to another.
Luca answered conservatively.
"I should have things sorted out at the port by next month. But I still have some trouble to deal with first. When the time comes, I may need John's help."
The real issue was simple: they hadn't yet found the right opportunity to move against John Gotti.
Gotti and Joe Gallo were lunatics who had directly violated Mafia rules by assassinating other Mafia members.
Both had been targeted for execution.
Gotti had simply gotten lucky and escaped a few times.
Joe Gallo, on the other hand, hadn't been so lucky. He had been crushed by a rare card.
Luca had no intention of acting rashly.
Killing without justification would only get him Gotti's head—not control of the port.
The Gambino family could replace Gotti with someone else overnight.
But if Gotti dared to interfere with the Lucchese family's internal affairs…
Then the Peace Ambassador would gladly extend his reach to the Gambino port and rob it in broad daylight.
Luca hoped Pauli would stir the flames even further.
If the White Tiger and Gotti started fighting earlier than expected, Luca would happily pour gasoline on the fire.
Leon was currently monitoring those people in secret, hoping the conflict would erupt before the upcoming public rally.
Otherwise, if the White Tiger didn't die…
How exactly was Pauli supposed to rise?
Luca chuckled quietly.
Everyone believed Mariggio had become useless after losing the drug business, nothing more than the White Tiger's lackey.
What they didn't realize was that the Butcher was frighteningly talented at business.
After receiving Luca's verbal commitment, the three men's conversation became even more cheerful.
Abram drank a large gulp of liquor. His thick neck flushed red as he said excitedly,
"Luca, if the port deal goes through, we can even increase your share of the gasoline tax profits. Mr. Pushkin's values the oil business very highly. You'll gain even more friendship from the Russians."
Pushkin?
Russian?
That name sounded strangely familiar.
Luca raised an eyebrow.
A bad feeling crept up in his chest.
Pushkin.
Boston.
Oil smuggling.
Suddenly, a flash of realization struck him.
Boston…
Surely there wasn't an SSR card there… right?
(TN: It sure had SSR Card in there)
For a brief moment, a faint trace of sympathy appeared in Luca's eyes as he looked at the two Russian brothers.
He calmly took another sip of wine before asking casually,
"How's your brothel business lately?"
Abram grinned meaningfully.
"Dove, are you interested in that line of work?"
"Our Eastern European girls are the most popular on the market. There's never a shortage of customers."
Luca shook his head.
"Not interested. I just asked because someone recently started sending business cards to our club."
By now, Luca was 50% certain.
There was a high probability that Boston either already had—or soon would have—an SSR card.
A top-tier assassin.
A man who had "retired" from the U.S. Army's Marine and Defence Inteligence Agency (DIA) Agent.
But that wasn't the real problem.
The real problem was that, just like Luca…
That guy loved sticking his nose into other people's business.
Acting as a righteous savior.
Upholding justice.
Defending peace.
For example—
Rescuing a prostitute who had been bullied by Russians…
And then wiping out the entire gang.
And even traveling to Moscow to kill the mastermind behind it all.
Ridiculously powerful.
Peace Ambassadors needed more peace-loving people like that.
---
From Luca's observation, the Tarasov brothers' business in New York didn't seem deeply connected with the Russian gangs in Boston.
One brother provoking the Baba Yaga.
The other provoking The Equalizer.
Just thinking about it made Luca want to laugh.
He raised his glass and toasted the two "warriors" with a smile.
"Viggo, Abram—here's to a pleasant cooperation and prosperous business."
"Pleasure doing business."
The two brothers laughed and clinked glasses.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Character Card: Viggo Tarasov]
[Rank: A]
[Source: John Wick]
Skill:
[Extravagant Bounty:
When you issue a bounty for a kill, it attracts more assassins to claim the reward.
The attractiveness of the bounty increases by an additional 20%.
When an extremely high bounty is offered, there is a small probability that assassins will violate the rules of the Continental Hotel and carry out a killing inside the hotel.]
[Learning Requirements: Friendship or higher; 50 Skill Fragments]
Skill:
[Mission Imposibble:
Active Skill.
When assigning a mission to subordinates, you may reduce their loyalty to increase their combat power.
Loyalty permanently decreases by 5%–25%.
Combat power temporarily increases by 10%–50%.
The combat bonus disappears after the mission is completed.]
[Learning Requirements: Close Friend bond level or higher; 80 Skill Fragments]
[Bond: Familliar]
__________________________________________________________________________
The second skill startled Luca.
A permanent loyalty reduction?
After reading more carefully, he was relieved to see that it was an active skill, meaning he could choose whether to use it.
Trading loyalty for combat power was not something he could use casually.
Unless he intended to sacrifice someone.
If one of his subordinates ever harbored malicious intent, Luca wouldn't hesitate.
He would sever their loyalty completely, boost their combat power, and send them straight into the battlefield as cannon fodder.
Luca and Abram left the hotel together, leaving Viggo alone in the lobby.
Viggo walked to the window and stared at the black vintage car driving away below.
His eyes flickered.
Then he closed them tightly.
Based on everything he had observed—and Luca's achievements in New York—Viggo was absolutely certain of one thing.
The Butcher was far more dangerous than the Baba Yaga.
Because the Butcher…
Wasn't just a killer.
Thinking about his useless son sitting in a wheelchair, Viggo felt a deep ache in his chest.
No successor.
If only Luca were Russian…
If only he belonged to the Tarasov family…
Sooner or later, New York would belong entirely to them.
After all, you couldn't expect the Baba Yaga to suddenly become a businessman.
---
The Lucchese Family — The Bronx
There was an Italian restaurant here famous for its grilled sausages.
Insiders knew that the owner, Pauli Cicero, often went into the kitchen personally to make the sausages.
That evening, Pauli stood in the kitchen wearing a white apron, turning thick sausages inside a large pot.
A subordinate approached.
"Pauli, the Dove has arrived at the restaurant."
Pauli stared at the pot without looking up.
"How many people?"
"He came alone. Already ordered."
"Hmm. Ignore him."
After the subordinate left, Pauli continued turning the sausages carefully so they would cook evenly on all sides.
But there were too many sausages in the pot.
As he kept turning them, Pauli slowly realized something.
He couldn't remember which ones were cooked and which ones weren't.
By the time he noticed, several had already burned.
Back when he was young, this never happened.
No matter how many sausages were in the pot, he could remember every single one clearly.
Now that he was older, his mind often became muddled.
No wonder his wife had complained recently that his sausages didn't taste as good as they used to.
Pauli sighed.
He removed a few burnt sausages from the pot, reducing the number so he could better control the cooking.
After finishing the batch, he placed them in a bowl and personally carried them to Luca's table.
"I figured you were used to the luxury food at the club," Pauli said. "Didn't expect you to visit a small restaurant like mine."
He placed the bowl down.
"Try my sausages. Tell me if the taste has changed."
"I can't really remember the old flavor," Luca said as he lifted a sausage with his fork. "My father brought me here when I was a kid. It wasn't this location back then—and it definitely wasn't this big."
He took a bite.
"It's excellent. Best sausage I've had lately."
"As long as it tastes good."
Pauli smiled faintly.
"Luca, how's business at your club lately? I heard Mariggio hasn't been able to get any jewelry recently. Haven't made a sale in a while. Still adjusting after taking over?"
Luca chewed slowly.
No sales?
Did Pauli really think business licenses just appeared out of thin air?
Who did he think recruited the endless stream of tanker truck drivers transporting oil day and night?
Why did the truck drivers' union treat them with such respect?
Mariggio had been extremely busy lately.
Traveling everywhere.
His schedule was almost as packed as Luca's.
In the competition for the second-in-command position, Mariggio was already confident of victory.
Even if the White Tiger's drug trade multiplied several times over, it still couldn't compete with the gasoline tax business.
And what exactly did Pauli have left?
After swallowing the sausage, Luca smiled.
"If Pauli came to my club as head chef and grilled sausages in the club restaurant, my business would probably skyrocket."
Pauli shook his head.
"Dove, the only reason you can sit here eating my sausages is because you're my junior—and because you no longer deal in drugs."
"I've cut off everyone in the family involved with drugs. Everyone knows my stance."
"I admire that," Luca said sincerely.
"The Lucchese family still has drug business now."
"But not in the future."
Pauli stared at him directly.
"Dove, among the younger generation in this family, you're the one I believe in the most."
"But what you and Mariggio did last time disappointed me."
"You abandoned drugs… only to create an even bigger drug lord."
Luca looked at Pauli's round face.
The tight skin made it resemble the browned crust of a sausage.
A slightly burnt sausage.
At that moment, Pauli's skill appeared before Luca's eyes.
[Black Hand Execution]
Luca asked calmly,
"What would you have preferred we did back then?"
Pauli answered bluntly.
"Either destroy the drugs… or let the family destroy them."
"The Bonanno family has never been a role model for us."
"Dove, you're still young. You might live long enough to see a brand-new family."
"Or watch my burning body perish together with the family."
Luca took a huge bite of sausage.
The next night.
Leon called.
"White Tiger is dead."
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