Chapter 9; Float like a Butterfly...

Six months, fifteen days, four hours and twenty-three minutes. Thus was the exact amount of time it had taken to place all her pieces in order to make her temporary end goal possible. It required no small amount of effort, the memory of long sleepless nights confirmed that fact. But now the preparations were complete and there was nothing to stop her, or anyone else under her command. 

There were setbacks, obviously. The number of employees she had possession of could not be placed under her direct control, as she discovered it adhered to a specified range. Thankfully, it could be increased with proficiency. Underneath that issue, the spectrum was that all her employees had to do serious covert work in order to stay under the radar of the other organisations that were already well placed into Kathmandu's underbelly, which made many simple jobs rather tedious and took up far more time to complete more often than not. It dealt heavy blows to morale on several occasions, but the promise of a handsome payment curbed their grumbling and displeasure. It was allowed, however, that the employees could buy product from other dealers. It was an underhanded tactic to grab at information, but it had paid off.

Now in terms of profits they matched and even exceeded some of the already existing higher income organizations, who had already been established some years ago. In a layman's term, they were now at the threshold of the real heavy hitters when it came to the illegal trades in Kathmandu. All that was left now was to properly introduce themselves to their neighbours. Just the thought made the subject's lips twitch into a smile, her efforts in the dark had finally grown into the light, after all. 

She was once again adorned in the rich black dress and trench coat that was gifted to her, her guard sitting around her in a squad of four, while her driver took the wheel of the dark silver limousine. Each were wearing the black Italian suit that had become customary for all on security and general uniform. The female workers requested a bit more freedom of choice in the matter, so they were only limited to black clothing so long as it was adorned by their insignia, the motif of a Killer Bee's side view. It was a little of a childish decision, but she could get away with it as her competitors all had logos and or insignia, so it was not an entirely difficult decision. The security agents and general dealers who sold product on the streets wore the same insignia, only as a pin on their clothing.

The reason for this excursion and her being more heavily guarded, was due to the fact that there was currently a meeting being held between the overlords of the several syndicates around the city. It was the most opportune moment to make known who was behind the sudden rise of a new power in their city, as she had been collecting all the intelligence she could on the differing parties present. They were uninvited of course, but it made little difference to her plan of action. 

Currently, she was analysing current profit trends that would help in boosting sales, taking a sip from some orange juice in a wine glass. Her servant and bodyguards were all armed and prepared for a fight, and also had agents stationed in and around the building where the meeting was being conducted. The meeting was held in a private penthouse on the fourteenth and second highest floor, in the right wing of the loft. It would be fairly simple to get into, considering. That was if one you ignored the armed guards crawling about the entirety of the floor it was on.

The black wheels halted on the tarmac; the valet stationed at the entrance of the busy hotel scrambled to greet them but was backed off by her guard. Despite the oddness of several men protecting a single teenager, none dared disturb their stride as they boarded the elevator and began ascending to the fourteenth floor of the building. Clicks and zips could be heard in the almost cramped room as pistols were loaded and slid into holsters, while she was making sure that each of them had an earpiece for communication purposes. They too, aside from the ex-security from the Anthill, believed that she was not in fact their leader, but all would be revealed soon.

The doors slid open to the guards on the other side, and suppressed muzzles flashed in unison which marked the ending of their lives. Two down, eight more to go. Her main guard directed the three others to sweep the floor. No witnesses, no survivors. She sauntered down the hall to where the meeting was located, observing the silver blade of the combat knife she'd taken off one of the dead soldiers guarding the elevator. She had seen many like it in the films she often used as reference, but it held little comparison to the weight and feel of it in her hand. The biting edge was rather sharp, as would be expected. With no further observations to be made, her interest plummeted and her hand discarded the blade on the floor, not to be thought of again. 

By the time they had reached the door, the other three guards had already arrived, wiping blood from blades or reloading a firearm. With a sidelong glance her main servant used the handle of his pistol to smash in the panel next to the door, making it open to see a lavish penthouse. The walls, furniture and floors were all pearl white, aside from the stray plant or carpet being a differing colour. The guards split again, this time closing in on the meeting room, which had been close to ending off the rather drab proceedings; it was just business as usual for them after all. 

It was almost comical to her, she'd been playing right under their noses for almost an entire year now and they did not even know they would be meeting in person. She may have spared a chuckle if she could, but seeing it was not the case, she discarded the thought with a smile gracing her features. It had been a while since this occupation showed the more enjoyable facets of itself.

-Within the meeting room; the same time.

This year, it was the obligation of one Don Lorenzo Teca to host the annual commune of the cartel leaders. He was a man of sizeable width and was one of- if not the most- influential of the gathered leaders. Having owned several other narcotics and aphrodisiac trades spanning over Mexico and Spain, it was easy to deduce why. The greying man was also rather greedy as far as money and his "possessions" were concerned, one needn't worry so long as there was one or the other to offer as a peacekeeper. The delegations, territorial claims and other matters had been dealt with by now, and thus signalled the end of the meeting.

"My friends, comrades and business partners; it delights me to say that we have had another year of prosperity among our families." Even through his geriatric grinning, a deaf man could hear how he spat the last word before taking a sip from his champagne.

"Yes, Don Lorenzo. We are also thankful for these times of peace among our groups." An even older man quietly scoffed, stroking a hand through his snow-white beard. It was hardy difficult to tell the room had a poor opinion of the Kingpin at the table's head, of which the man in question knew as well. The armour fear and money could give a man was an astounding thing, really. Of this, he knew as well.

"Now that all that has been moved out of the way, what do we suppose is to be done about this mysterious upstart causing a ruckus downtown?" A woman who seemed almost deceptively well aged asked from the far end of the table, sliding out a police report of seeing odd shipments in and out of the city, among other strange happenings.

"Why not invite them out into the light? Offer them a position in our agreement?" Lorenzo considered his option with a chuckle, finding it amusing if nothing else.

"Wouldn't another member only bring more issues? The central territories are already stretched thin as things are." The oldest in the room gave a gruff sigh at the idea. "Notwithstanding the struggle for customers with trade routes being as tense as they are as well."

"Mr Callahan, I do see your concerns. However, it is time we bring in some new blood into this city, it may make things interesting no?" The Don gave a laugh at the elderly man's expense, who only huffed out a sigh with apprehension. 

"I agree with the Don. A new face should make things a bit brighter around here, don't you think Lady Selner?" A younger man in his late twenties wearing sunglasses leered at the woman who produced the file. "I may even pay to see you smiling a bit more."

"Well Johnathan, maybe if you were a bit more experienced I could. But back to business; I am in agreement with Callahan. Having my routes stretched so thin means I'm hardly getting any money in. A new face will only stir things up more." She replied with only the thinnest of ices in her voice, attempting to maintain peace in a China shop full of bulls.

"Mm...why not put this decision to a vote then?" The now named Johnathan replied, turning a brow upwards at the Don.

"An excellent idea! What say you, Hallow?" The large man turned to the opposite end of the table, where a darkly skinned and dressed man sat with a cane in hand and black spectacles over his eyes.

"I can agree with this, Don Lorenzo." He replied in a smooth note, putting a hand on the table. "I vote in favour of inviting this new power into our fold."

"I vote in favour as well."

"I also put a vote behind this decision, which means..." The Don looked to the silent pair who had disagreed. "It seems that we have reached a decision, my apologies." The wide sneer he bothered little to hide made his apology null.

"It has been decided- the mysterious competitor will be invited into our ranks by the end of this week!" Lorenzo declared broadly, but did not notice as the handle of the door behind him turned.

It was a wonder, honestly. Organised crime could be so clean, and yet become so messy all at the whim of one whose wingbeats were invisible.