Boom!
Luca drove his heavily modified Nissan GT-R, while Brian drived his equally modified Mitsubishi Eclipsed through the streets of New York.
At a red light, Luca rolled down his window and glanced at Brian in the lane beside him. Brian, his thin blond hair catching the streetlight, gave him a slightly awkward smile.
Luca gave a small nod. "Brian. See you around."
Brian froze for a second.
Why did that sound like there hadn't even been time for a proper handshake? That felt less like "see you tomorrow" and more like a final farewell.
See you tomorrow, Dove!
Brian chuckled to himself. With a boss this straightforward, this undercover gig might wrap up sooner than expected.
Man, I miss the beaches on the West Coast.
The two cars split at a fork in the road.
The next afternoon.
Brian met with his superiors and reported his latest "accomplishments."
"I already heard about last night," his superior said, looking completely exhausted. "How did you and the NYPD end up jumping into the same drug bust out of nowhere? And our FBI division was investigating Aoki's money laundering at the same time. Somehow everyone showed up to arrest him together."
What truly left him speechless was this—
The one who actually captured Aoki… was their own undercover agent.
He still had no idea how Aoki had planned to escape that level of pursuit.
"I had no clue who that Japanese guy was," Brian shrugged. "The Dove told me to stop that GT-R, so I did. That car was the one I'd busted my tail to win."
Superior: "…"
Brian continued, shifting topics.
"To be honest, I don't get how the nicknames 'Butcher' and 'Dove of Peace' belong to the same guy. I haven't seen anything remotely Butcher-like from him."
The superior sighed.
"Our FBI psychologists analyzed that. They lean toward what they call a 'godfather complex.' The Dove persona represents protection—stepping in where the government fails. When the state can't safeguard people's property or safety, the Dove becomes the Butcher—using violence to establish an alternative order. That's what some call the 'Dove's peace doctrine.'"
He paused.
"It's how organized crime sells protection when the law can't deliver it."
He added more quietly, "We suspect the Dove experienced severe psychological trauma as a child. It may tie into why he joined the Mafia so young."
Brian ran a hand through his blond hair, deep in thought.
After giving him a moment, the superior continued:
"He's vouching for you now, right? That's impressive. Frankly, I didn't expect you to earn his approval this fast. Since you did it through your driving skills, lean into that. Get yourself involved in operations. Ideally, have him bring you along."
Brian listened carefully, but his mind drifted.
What if the Dove really brought him into a serious operation?
This wasn't some small-time street racing club.
This was the Mafia.
Every made man had blood on his hands. To be initiated meant participating in murder—earning your place with blood.
Brian had never killed anyone.
"What if they order me to kill someone?" he asked.
"Report it immediately," the superior replied, clearly uncomfortable. "I sent you undercover—not to turn you into a bloodthirsty gangster. That helps no one. I won't let you lose yourself over this. Brian, you're more important than any case."
Brian nodded solemnly.
Hopefully, it would never come to that.
As the other undercover agent, Donnie faced an even more dangerous situation than Brian.
The Bonanno family had shown zero mercy toward Frank, their enemy. Meanwhile, another family member—Alphonse "Sonny Red" Indelicato—had sabotaged the Blue Magic deal.
Donnie felt lucky that Sonny Black was still in the hospital recovering from his gunshot wound. At least for now, he and Lefty didn't have to go around robbing people.
He appreciated the relative stability—even if it meant gathering zero useful evidence.
But without robberies, there was no money.
Sonny Black spent his days in a hospital bed brainstorming new ways to make cash.
Donnie suggested heading to Florida. He had contacts in Miami. They could open a bar like the Dove's—maybe with a discreet casino in the back. Stay away from violence. Run something "respectable."
Everyone liked the idea.
Once Sonny Black recovered, they'd head to Miami—sunshine, beaches, a fresh start.
"Before that, though," someone said, "the Dove's new club is opening. Let's go check it out."
---
Three days later.
FBI New York Office.
With Aoki's money laundering case wrapped up, and overwhelming evidence stacked against him, the Japanese-American businessman stopped resisting and confessed.
Drug trafficking charges only made it worse.
Denham stepped out of the briefing room to a round of applause.
Colleagues looked at him with open admiration. His investigation team received formal commendation. Their work was officially recognized.
Denham offered a tired smile.
He didn't celebrate. He simply walked through the crowd, humble as ever. He always looked vaguely irritated—like he held a quiet grudge against the universe.
A colleague handed him coffee. He took a sip.
Bittersweet.
Much better than the overly strong Italian espresso the Dove had once served him.
Back in his office, Denham picked up the white dove feather from his pen holder.
He sat there in silence for over an hour.
Finally, he grabbed his jacket, left the building, took the subway—
—and headed to the Bronx.
---
Inside the SSR Club bar, Jordan was playing cards with Jimmy and the rest.
Cigar in his mouth, Jordan didn't make a single snide remark when the FBI showed up. Instead, he smiled cryptically.
"Care to join us?" Jordan gestured. "Use my chips. If you lose, it's on me. If you win, they're yours."
"Where's the Dove?" Denham asked Jimmy flatly.
"Upstairs. Office," Jimmy said. "Knock first."
Denham nodded and took the elevator.
As the doors opened, a flushed, stunning Chinese-American woman stepped out barefoot, heels in hand.
Nancy froze when she saw him.
Police? FBI? Were they here for Luca?
She turned, knocked on the door.
"Luca, law enforcement's here!"
"Let him in," Luca replied calmly.
Anyone who could walk in through the front door had clearly given prior notice.
Denham entered.
The office was enormous—far larger than any FBI office he'd seen.
But what caught his eye most was the potted Silver Queen plant on the desk.
He'd seen several downstairs.
"Do you only keep Silver Queens?" he asked.
As he approached, he suddenly realized something:
The anxiety in his chest had eased. His mind felt clearer. Calmer.
"Silver Queen purifies the air," Luca said lightly. "It also improves mood. Sit down, Pat."
He noticed Denham's shoulders relax.
The skill really was useful.
He'd worked overtime collecting fragments just to unlock it.
Though honestly—if most people carried guns, would a peace ambassador be expected to carry houseplants?
"You really enjoy racing?" Denham asked, thinking of Brian—and Nancy.
"So many racers around you."
"You like it too?" Luca asked enthusiastically. "We should go for a drive sometime."
"I don't even own a car," Denham admitted. "I take the subway most days."
Luca raised an eyebrow.
Not owning a sports car and not having time to race were two different issues.
"If you suddenly rolled up in a GT-R," Luca said with a grin, "your coworkers would lose their minds."
"They'd assume I took bribes from Jordan."
Denham shifted the topic.
"I'm here about Jordan."
"How would you like to handle it?"
"There's no point dragging this out," Denham said. "You won't let me arrest him."
"Jordan moves a few boxes of Blue Magic and it's chaos," Luca replied casually. "Meanwhile, billions move through Wall Street daily. Throw a brick off a rooftop and you'll hit a financial criminal. Unless you drop a bomb on Wall Street, you won't catch them all."
He continued:
"They call Jordan a wolf. Compared to the big investment banks? He's a house pet. He's on my leash. Shouldn't you think twice before beating someone's dog?"
Denham felt an overwhelming sense of powerlessness.
Still—
"I won't stop investigating. It's my job."
"I respect that," Luca said evenly. "I've seen officers return a million dollars in lost cash. Principles matter."
He leaned back.
"But living solely by principles can make people rigid. Cowardice often hides behind righteousness."
He looked directly at Denham.
"We're friends. Friends don't ask each other to abandon principles. Friendship makes us braver."
Denham inhaled slowly.
"I know your rules," he said carefully. "I'm willing to follow them this time. But there needs to be closure. Give me something. Let's call it peace."
"Peace is priceless," Luca said warmly.
He handed over a document.
"A money laundering charge tied to Stratton Corporation. Use this to close the case."
Denham examined it.
Minor. Not Jordan himself. One of his partners taking the fall.
They had clearly arranged who would bleed.
Before coming here, Denham had prepared himself for resistance.
Instead, everything was already set.
It felt like something inside him had emptied out.
He stood.
"Thank you," he said, extending his hand. "When this case ends, come to my house for dinner. I'll cook."
"Less chili," Luca replied with a smile. "Matilda can't handle spice."
They shook hands firmly.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Ding! You resolved the conflict between the Denham investigation team and Stratton Corporation, preserving corporate peace]
[Gain Skill Points +10]
[Gain Skill Fragments +5]
[Remaining Skill Fragments: 13]
__________________________________________________________________________
Luca handed him a membership card.
"A gift between friends. One day—or maybe that day would never come—you'll repay me."
"Thank you," Denham said quietly.
[Bond: Close Friend]