The second day of the riots.
The National Guard arrived right on schedule and began suppressing the unrest with overwhelming firepower—their orders were simple and brutal: eliminate any rioter hiding behind windows or on rooftops with a gun. At this point, Luca no longer needed to step in. Most of the Black gang leaders had already been taken out—either by Bobby's rampage or wiped clean by Leon and the Mafia Henchman. Those hardened gang thugs were only a small slice of the crowd; the majority were ordinary Black citizens who had been stirred up, lost their minds, and got swept into the chaos.
Back in the day, white folks used whips and cotton; now it's machine guns and grenades—different tools, same story. Hell, if someone rolled out a mortar, it wouldn't even feel out of place.
Before leaving Detroit, Luca still had a few loose ends to tie up.
As for those rare "cards"—Bobby was already past the point of no return. Hoffa's death lit a fire in him, and now he wanted revenge, especially for the gunman. Unfortunately, that man had already been arrested and locked up, which made things… inconvenient.
Luca headed straight to Mrs. Mercer's house. One phone call from his mother, and Bobby came running back like a kid who'd been called in for dinner.
When Bobby saw Luca, his expression was complicated.
"Dove… can you do me one more favor? Help me kill that murderer. He's in jail right now—his name is—"
"I know who he is," Luca cut him off calmly. "And I'll give you a satisfactory answer."
That alone eased Bobby's mind. With Luca's capabilities, taking out the assassin wasn't exactly a tall order.
After calming down a bit, Bobby finally sat and asked, a little late, "So… what brings you here?"
"I came to see Mrs. Mercer," Luca replied. "And I've got some good news for you too—the city council has approved Jerry's redevelopment plan."
"...Thanks, Dove."
Bobby hadn't expected that, in the end, the person who helped his family the most would be Luca—a guy he'd only met once in New York. His thoughts drifted back to the tanker truck.
"Oh, right. Did you find your tanker?"
Luca nodded. "Found it. Unfortunately, it's now a pile of scrap sitting in a junkyard."
"Who did it? I'll make them regret it."
"The BMF gang," Luca said lightly. "No need. Their leader's already dead."
He then gave a brief rundown of Detroit's current situation. Black gangs and street thugs were being wiped out one by one. With tens of thousands arrested, the East Side would be left in a power vacuum for quite some time, and the Mafia would naturally move in to fill it. Of course, Luca wasn't about to sit on the sidelines.
He couldn't let the Detroit Mafia swallow the whole city. He needed his own foothold—his own eyes and ears. And that foothold would come in the form of gas stations.
With a bit of guidance, Jerry's redevelopment project could rebuild those ruined stations into something bigger, something strategic. On his own, Jerry wouldn't be able to pull it off. A few hundred thousand dollars wouldn't stretch far—but dozens, even hundreds of gas stations had been destroyed in the riots. The opportunity was sitting there, wide open.
Luca's plan was simple.
Support the Mercer brothers.
Jerry would operate in the legitimate world as a businessman. Bobby would take control of the streets. Luca would fund Jerry, back Bobby with manpower and influence, and keep the Detroit Mafia as an ally. Piece by piece, the city would fall into his hands.
After hearing Luca's "offer," Bobby just sat there, stunned for a long time. He clearly hadn't expected an olive branch like this.
From a street brawler… to the underground ruler of Detroit's East Side, backed by the Mafia?
"The Black gangs in the East Side can't be wiped out completely," Bobby finally said, shaking his head. "Do you even know how many Black people live in Detroit? When they've got no jobs and nothing to do, they turn to gangs. Kids start dealing drugs before they even know better."
That was reality.
And in the years to come, that trend would only get worse—more Black residents, fewer white ones. One riot wouldn't change that.
"If you can't eliminate it, then control it," Luca said firmly. "The East Side needs a leader. Someone who can enforce rules, keep those thugs in line. Doesn't matter if he's Black, white nor brown. Right now, the old guard is gone, and the military's about to crack down hard. This is the moment a new leader steps up. The government wants order—and you can give it to them."
"Bobby, you're a local. You know these streets. You've got your brothers, your people. Jerry's Black, your crew's Black—you've got roots here. And I can help you, in every way that matters. Once people know you're with me, no one's going to mess with you."
Luca raised his hand slightly, pressing down as if sealing the deal.
"Your will… will become the law of the East Side. You'll decide the order. You'll decide the peace."
Bobby, who had grown up on those streets, knew exactly what that meant. He stared at Luca, conflicted.
"I'll admit… it's tempting. But there's already Mafia families in the West Side. You're one of them too, right? Same blood, same roots. Why not go after them?"
Luca shook his head and gave a simple answer.
"They're old."
Silence.
"That's how lion prides work," Luca continued. "When a lion takes over territory, it mostly just patrols and keeps others out. The real hunting? That's done by the rest of the pride."
He didn't bother hiding his opinion.
"Zerellis? He's an aging lions. No drive left to expand. You said it yourself—fewer white people, shrinking influence. Detroit doesn't need old lions anymore. It needs a young one."
"You don't have to fight them. I'll handle that side. They'll know you're with me. Just sit back and watch the old lions fade away. It won't take long."
After Zerelli and his generation were gone, the Detroit Mafia would decline. Still around, sure—but no longer dominant.
Bobby stayed quiet for a long time. He knew enough about the Mafia to understand what this meant. If he said yes, he'd become Luca's man—an associate.
"But… I'm not Italian."
"This is Detroit, not New York," Luca replied casually. "The Chicago Outfit ditched that rule a long time ago. They've been bringing in non-Italians since Al Capone's days."
He paused, then added:
"You know Frank, right? He's Irish. Still outranks a lot of made guys. Blood doesn't define value. What I need from you is loyalty—and trust."
Bobby did know Frank. And he knew how close Frank had been to Uncle Hoffa.
By now, Bobby had made up his mind—but there was still one question.
"Why me?"
"It wasn't me who chose you," Luca said, shaking his head.
Bobby frowned.
Then Luca smiled.
"It was Mrs. Mercer."
That caught him off guard.
"I trust her judgment," Luca continued. "She chose to adopt you because she saw something good in you. The same goes for your brothers. Reliable. Worth trusting. I saw kindness and peace in her—and you'll carry that forward."
At that moment, Mrs. Mercer walked in with a plate of fruit, smiling warmly as she set it on the table. She took Luca's hand gently.
"Luca, thank you for your donation. With that money, those children will have a better winter."
Donation?
Bobby looked between them, confused—until his mother explained. His expression shifted from surprise… to silence… and finally to something deeper.
Luca had donated a seven-figure sum to her orphan fund.
For a moment, Bobby didn't know what to say.
Then his mother sighed softly.
"I just hope there'll be fewer kids dealing drugs on Detroit's streets someday. I know they're just trying to survive—but that's not the life they should have. They belong in school."
Bobby exhaled quietly. And in that moment, he made his decision.
When Luca stood to leave, Bobby spoke.
"Dove… I'm in. I'll work for you."
Luca smiled and pulled him into a brief hug.
"My friend… one day, the people of Detroit will thank you for this choice."
[Character Card: Bobby Mercer]
[Rank: A]
[Source: Four Brother]
[Skill:
[Skill: The Avenger]
Description: A relentless drive for retribution fueled by loss. When pursuing those who have wronged his kin, Bobby becomes a ghost in the machine—impossible to shake and lethal upon arrival.
Status:[UNLOCKED]
[Skill: Eldest Son of the Family]
Description: The backbone of the Mercer bloodline. His presence on the battlefield solidifies the resolve of his brothers, turning a street brawl into a coordinated tactical strike.
Status:[UNLOCKED]
[Bond: Close Friend]
"Buy Eldest Son of The Family"
[Ding! Skill Redeemed Succesfully]
[Skill Fragment -100]
[Remaining Skill Fragments: 336]
Luca valued this skill even more—it boosted the influence of his people and gave them an edge when he led them into trouble. A pretty solid perk.
After leaving the house, Luca waved Brian over.
"Let's head to the north suburbs."
"Alright!"
Brian opened the car door eagerly, but once inside, he paused. Why did he feel… excited? Like he'd jump into fire at a word from Luca?
He scratched his head.
"Dove, whatever you said back there—it got me fired up. Felt like we were heading into a war."
Luca looked at the chaotic streets ahead.
"This place was always a battlefield."
Northern suburbs.
In a quiet, mostly white neighborhood, Smith Jr. walked hand-in-hand with his sister. No smoke. No gunfire. No chaos. Just peace—so peaceful it felt unreal.
Yesterday, they'd been hiding in the East Side. Today, they were living in a place they couldn't even dream of affording.
"Brother… are we staying here now?"
"I…" Smith hesitated.
He'd only meant to find temporary shelter, but Luca had moved them here directly, into a spacious home, no strings attached—just told them to stay put until things settled down.
Smith picked up his sister.
"I'll work hard. One day, I'll buy us a house like this."
Over the next five days, the riots slowly died down. In total, they lasted seven days—two days longer than the original timeline.
Luca was a little surprised, but accepted it quickly. The original trigger had been minor—a bar raid. This time? The scale was far worse.
Over 10,000 buildings were destroyed across Detroit.
The more severe the chaos, the harder the federal crackdown. Black gang members, in particular, were far more violent than ordinary citizens—and they became the primary targets.
In one week, over 10,000 people were arrested. Death tolls climbed into the hundreds. With gang leaders assassinated and members rounded up, the East Side's Black gangs were nearly wiped out.
The riots ended.
Reconstruction began.
And Detroit… would never be the same again.
After everything settled, Luca left Leon behind to assist Bobby and returned to New York with the rest.
[Ding! You secretly assisted the federal government in suppressing the Detroit riots and eliminating gangs and protected Detroit's peace.]
[Gain Skill Points x300]
[Gain Skill Fragments x150]
[Remaining Skill Fragments: 510]
["Peacemaker" Title Progress: 2/3]
[Peacemaker enhanced — aura range doubled]
Range: 3 km
Effects:
– Hostility -15% during negotiation
– Combat effectiveness +15% during peacekeeping
– Conflict probability -15%
Against Black criminals: +50% bonus to all effects
Luca glanced at the upgrade and smirked slightly.
"Doesn't make me some kind of racial knight."
He closed the panel, pushed open his office door, and headed downstairs.
In the cigar room, Russell, Frank Fitzsimmons, Fat Tony, Mariggio, Frank, and several others were already waiting.
These days, when people in New York talked business, they talked about the SSR Club.
Deals closed there. Plans took shape there.
And when Luca walked in, every pair of eyes turned toward him—the young man who had just stirred a storm in Detroit.
No one had proof.
But everyone felt it.
The riot. Hoffa's death. The collapse of order.
Somehow, it all traced back to him.
And yet, nothing stuck.
No evidence. No witnesses. Just a growing shadow behind his name.
Luca sat down, his smile calm and easy—like a quiet breeze cutting through the tension.
"Since everyone's here," he said lightly, "let's talk business."
He leaned back, relaxed.
"With Hoffa out of the way, union loans are back on the table. Let's make good use of them."
He paused, then added with a faint smile:
"So when we attend his funeral… we can tell him, with a straight face, that his passing helped build a stronger, more stable union."
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