Brian had never been someone who could settle down easily.
In the original timeline, after his child was born, he retired from the underworld with his wife. He had money. He had a family. He lacked nothing. And yet he still craved speed and adrenaline. He could never quite forget the roads his tires had carved through his past.
But right now?
He was still green.
"Dove, when it comes to racing, I'm not afraid of anyone."
Brian's eyes burned with competitive fire.
"I accept this challenge."
"Good."
Luca raised his chin, pointed at Brian's Mitsubishi, then turned away.
"Get in your car. You're coming with me."
"We racing now?"
"No." Luca smiled faintly. "First, we upgrade your car. How can a top driver not have a properly built machine?"
Brian's eyes lit up instantly.
Boss energy.
[Bond: Familiar]
Luca spent a considerable sum upgrading Brian's little green Eclipse—engine, transmission, suspension, braking system—every component replaced with top-tier performance parts tailored specifically to Brian's driving style.
Brian practically floated off to supervise the modifications himself.
Meanwhile, Luca called Jimmy.
Both men changed into sharp suits and drove straight to a high-end hotel in Manhattan.
Saurel was staying there temporarily.
"Play along with me later. Make it convincing."
Luca put on sunglasses and pulled a realistic-looking FBI badge from his pocket.
Jimmy raised a brow. "That's a good fake."
"I've collected a few things over the years."
"You sure he won't recognize you?"
"He's Swiss. He doesn't know the New York Mafia well enough."
Luca opened a makeup case.
"Still, better safe than sorry. A little adjustment."
Within minutes, his face looked noticeably different—subtle contouring, different hair part, slight changes around the eyes.
Jimmy watched silently.
There was always more to learn.
Inside the hotel suite.
Saurel unzipped a duffel bag.
Stacks of U.S. dollars filled it—money taken from Aoki's drug distribution network, intended to be smuggled back to Switzerland for laundering.
"They even included a little extra gift."
He pulled out a sealed bag of powder and smiled with satisfaction.
The Japanese really understood business etiquette.
Jordan, on the other hand, had dragged his feet about payments. Saurel had flown all the way to New York for nothing but excuses.
Fortunately, he had other clients.
Just as he repacked the money and considered celebrating, someone knocked.
He opened the door.
Two large men in suits.
"FBI."
Luca flashed the badge and pushed inside before Saurel could respond.
He noticed the drugs on the table, raised a brow—but didn't look surprised.
"Mr. Saurel. Seems we interrupted your evening."
"What do you want?" Saurel snapped. "Do you have a warrant? You can't just break into my room!"
"If I had a warrant," Luca replied calmly, "you wouldn't be standing here arguing with me."
He signaled Jimmy to close the door and sat down casually on the sofa.
"I am Swiss. Not American," Saurel said coldly. "I know your laws. The FBI doesn't get to harass me."
"This is America."
Luca gestured toward the seat across from him.
"Sit. You're not here for arrest. I just need information."
"I want a lawyer."
"You can choose," Luca said flatly. "We go downtown. Cold bench. Windowless room. Bitter coffee. Or you sit here on a soft couch and we talk like civilized people."
Saurel didn't move.
"You can only hold me twenty-four hours."
Luca took out a small recorder.
"Jordan already gave us everything."
He pressed play.
Jordan's broken, defeated voice filled the room.
Two years of money laundering. Details. Names. Transfers.
Everything.
Saurel's face went pale.
That bastard.
It was a trap. All of it.
"Your partner flipped," Luca said calmly. "We can put you away for life."
Saurel finally sat down.
"What do you want?"
"Have you heard of Grenada?"
"…No."
"Small island nation. The U.S. invaded in 1983. Nine thousand people. No resistance."
Luca leaned forward slightly.
"You are Grenada in front of the FBI."
Saurel clenched his jaw.
"But," Luca continued smoothly, "the U.S. allowed them autonomy again afterward. As long as they cooperated."
Silence.
"I need accounting records from Benihana Restaurant."
Saurel's heart skipped.
The FBI even knew about that?
If he talked, he'd bury himself deeper.
If he didn't, he was already finished.
"I get a deal?"
"Yes."
"You cooperate, the judge shows leniency. Maybe bail. Maybe you go home."
Saurel lowered his head.
He nodded.
---
Hours later—
He was dead.
Only one between him and Jordan could survive.
Jimmy placed the overdose needle beside the body.
Before leaving, they took the cash—approximately $20 million in illicit funds.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Ding! You and Jimmy eliminated an international financial criminal.]
[Skill Points +3]
[Current Skill Fragments: 68]
__________________________________________________________________________
On the drive back to the Bronx, Luca handed a thick envelope of cash to Jimmy.
"After cleaning it, I want most of it routed properly. You keep your cut."
Jimmy smirked. "Dove, no one's more generous than you."
"You're with me now."
"I've always been."
Luca glanced at the gray strands near Jimmy's temples.
"You're getting older."
Jimmy began killing for family at sixteen. Now he was in his forties. Half his life belonged to the Mafia.
He had loyalty. Silence. Ruthlessness.
If his ethnicity were different, he would have risen much higher.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Ding! Would you like to spend 60 Skill Fragments to exchange for Emotional Corrosion?]
[Yes/No]
"Yes"
[Redeem Successful]
[Skill Added]
Character Card: Luca Greco
Skill: Emotional Corrosion
– +5% additional loyalty for subordinates per bond level advanced
– +10% additional loyalty if subordinate is undercover after reaching Close Friend Bond
[Remaining Skill Fragments: 8]
__________________________________________________________________________
Jimmy adjusted his hair modestly.
Working under the Dove of Peace was different.
Paulie was old. The old guard was fading.
The future belonged to young people like Luca.
"Even when I'm seventy," Jimmy said quietly, "white hair and all—I'll still drive you wherever you need to go."
Luca smiled faintly.
[Bond: Close Friend]