The sudden arrival of a group of Deadly Viper assassins disrupted Luca's plans once again.
He truly hadn't expected the Benihana Restaurant to be connected to the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad.
Looking back, those gangsters he'd seen before—walking into the restaurant with samurai swords like it was perfectly normal—were obviously not "legitimate businessmen."
The leader of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad was the infamous Bill. Under his command were elite killers, each codenamed after a venomous snake. Every one of them was highly skilled, proficient in both Chinese martial arts and Japanese swordsmanship.
In the original storyline, five "snakes" appeared.
"Cottonmouth" O-Ren Ishii and "California Mountain Snake" Elle Driver were the two who had just entered the club.
There were three others. One of them was the "Black Mamba"—the Bride whose entire wedding party was massacred by Bill. She was the one who, from beginning to end, slaughtered her way through the entire Deadly Viper Assassination Squad.
Thankfully, that Female Bruce Lee in Yellow Spandex hadn't shown up.
As for the two present now…
Luca's expression grew increasingly strange.
Exactly how far had the Deadly Viper storyline progressed?
If the Bride hadn't gotten married yet—or hadn't been massacred—then the original plot hadn't unfolded.
Leon frowned. "Unexpected complication?"
Assassins hated unpredictability.
"A little. Nothing fatal," Luca replied calmly. "It might even be good for us. We don't need to take the stage ourselves. We have stand-ins."
Why were they here?
Were they targeting Richie and David? Because those officers arrested the Benihana Restaurant's boss? Or had they also received a contract to eliminate Richie Roberts and Carmine Galante?
They certainly didn't come for cocktails and a massage.
Fortunately, Luca had already dragged John McClane into this mess.
With McClane present, even if the entire Deadly Viper Assassination Squad rushed in, they wouldn't be able to kill him. At worst, they'd injure him.
John McClane—the embodiment of a Main Character with Plot Armor—was practically immortal.
Other people?
That was less certain.
Luca casually called Agent Denham to ask about the Benihana Restaurant.
"Rocky Aoki has ties to the Japanese Yakuza," Denham explained over the phone. "The restaurant's drugs were supplied by Japanese gangs. They laundered money through international dragon boat races. Their operations reached South Korea, Hong Kong, and parts of Vietnam."
Luca sighed. These people really loved sports. Street racing. Boat racing. Now dragon boat racing. They could even launder money while rowing.
If they were tied to the Japanese underworld, then the Deadly Viper connection made sense. Bill's organization had deep roots in Japan. His swordsmanship mentor had been Japanese.
Luca glanced at his watch.
"Does the FBI handle gang shootouts?"
A pause.
"That falls under NYPD jurisdiction," Denham replied. "Unless it escalates into large-scale organized crime."
What he didn't say out loud: Dove of Peace, you Mafia have an undercover agent.
Even Denham didn't know who it was. Clearance was too high.
"What if it turns into a three-way firefight? Mafia, Benihana, and Narcotics police?"
"…Then we might intervene."
---
Club corridor.
Elle Driver pulled out a small notebook and flipped through her notes. She had a habit of writing everything down and reviewing it when necessary.
"Targets: Richie Roberts—narcotics officer. Carmine Galante—Bonanno Family boss. Intelligence says they're collaborating. Aoki's drug network was dismantled by them."
O-Ren Ishii glanced at her calmly.
"Galante has heavy security."
They entered a private room.
Tonight, they would carry out Bill's orders.
The group quickly retrieved weapons hidden beneath sofas.
Shing. Shing.
Samurai swords were drawn.
A black mamba slithered from Elle's sleeve.
"This isn't Japan," she muttered. "In America, gang fights mean guns."
Click. Click.
Guns emerged too.
"You're well prepared," Elle added.
O-Ren holstered her pistol and raised her katana.
"Within three steps, my sword is faster."
The snake coiled around Elle's arm.
"I heard you offered Hattori Hanzo a million dollars for a blade and he refused?"
Hattori Hanzo—the legendary swordsmith. Blades sharp enough to cut iron like clay. Bill's former mentor.
Two of his swords were known: one with Bill, one with Bill's brother. The rest remained with Hanzo.
O-Ren's expression darkened slightly at the mention of Hanzo.
Hanzo despised killing.
She was one of the world's top assassins.
Bill had committed so many atrocities that Hanzo expelled him and swore never to forge another killing weapon.
O-Ren had tried multiple times to obtain one.
Got rejected. Every time.
She believed true peace required a blade sharp enough to cut through chaos.
She would unify the Tokyo underworld. She would prove Hanzo wrong.
"Move," she ordered coldly.
"Yes Ma'am!"
The group dispersed upstairs.
Behind them, Leon emerged from the shadows. Luca followed, dressed in black.
"Leon," Luca murmured, "make your move. Tonight, this place runs red."
"Understood."
---
Poolside.
Negotiations were concluding.
Galante exhaled cigar smoke.
"Blue Magic is running low on the streets. Frank will import more from Vietnam soon. Be ready. If you need help, call."
Richie nodded. Informant Jimmy's testimony had secured approval to search military aircraft suspected of smuggling drugs inside coffins of fallen soldiers.
Before that testimony, no one believed it.
Drugs transported in soldiers' coffins during wartime.
Who would dare desecrate American war dead?
Richie dared.
With a warrant, every coffin would be inspected.
McClane suddenly asked, "After Frank falls, what happens to the Bonanno family's drug business?"
Galante flicked ash casually.
"Trying to rope me in too?"
McClane felt his chest tighten.
One dragon falls. Another rises.
Galante spoke calmly.
"Over ten years, my costs went up ten percent. Profits increased tenfold. Even if you kill me, ten young men from the slums will fight for this business. Hungry wolves don't disappear."
The officers were silent.
"Middle-class voters are pushing marijuana legalization," Galante continued. "They're my customers. The market is growing itself. Maybe one day New York legalizes it."
He extended his hand.
"If your department ever offers fifty percent of a drug lord's assets to informants, I'll quit first."
Unlikely.
Richie shook his hand.
"Once I catch Frank, we'll meet in court."
They left.
David exhaled. "Is it almost over?"
"Yes," Richie said wearily.
Boom.
An explosion from below.
Chaos erupted.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Ding! You eliminated 13 hostile gang members and defended community peace.]
[Skill Points +10]
[Skill Fragments +5]
[Remaining Skill Fragments: 41]
___________________________________________________________________________
Luca ignored the panel.
Leon's ring trick had already killed four Benihana operatives and three club guards—igniting the war.
The assassination turned into a full-scale melee.
Luca and Leon remained in the shadows, picking targets, keeping balance.
According to the original plan, they would stage an assassination attempt here.
Now?
Blame the reckless Benihana and Deadly Vipers Group.
"They ruined my perfect execution plan," Luca would say later. "Otherwise Richie and Galante would be dead."
Bang.
Another Benihana gunman dropped.
Elsewhere, Leon descended upside down, firing mid-drop, eliminating multiple guards before vanishing like a ghost.
Gunfire roared.
Richie's team descended cautiously.
"What the hell is happening?" David yelled.
"Gang war?" Richie scanned surroundings.
McClane muttered, "When did narcotics work become this suicidal?"
Richie shook his head.
David: "First time."
McClane stared at them.
I just joined. Already in a gang war?
Richie and David exchanged looks.
Was McClane cursed?
"Absolutely not!" McClane snapped. "This is coincidence!"
David sighed. "Bro, if you're going to blow the place up, at least wait until we're outside."
Richie added dryly, "Let's hope there aren't bombs."
McClane: "…I am NOT unlucky."
Third floor lobby.
Glass shattered. Swords clashed with gunfire.
Richie saw her—
O-Ren Ishii.
Dressed in black, blade flashing, moving like a phantom.
With every sweep, bodies fell.
Heads rolled.
She occasionally drew her pistol and eliminated distant targets with surgical calm.
Richie: "What the hell…"
O-Ren noticed the officers.
She rushed him.
Richie fired.
She leapt, bullets tearing the wall behind her.
Her eyes were cold.
Venomous.
McClane shot down another assassin and kicked the body.
"Damn it! Of all nights!"
He charged alone.
Using terrain expertly, maneuvering with cold precision. Bullets chased shadows. Blades missed by inches.
David whispered, "Jesus… he's charged like super heroes."
Richie was stunned.
No wonder he wiped out mercenaries in Los Angeles.
---
A flash.
O-Ren's blade struck from behind.
McClane rolled awkwardly, barely avoiding the cut. The edge grazed his back.
O-Ren was surprised.
He dodged that?
McClane wiped blood, grimacing.
"Samurai swords? You Japanese treat antiques like sacred relics?"
"It is, you dumb American," O-Ren Ishii snapped. "Die, white pig."
They fired simultaneously.
Dodged simultaneously.
Steel clashed. Bullets whistled.
Above, Luca watched calmly.
"McClane can't match her technique," Leon analyzed.
"You're right," Luca replied. "But McClane will win."
Leon blinked.
"How?"
Luca looked at the katana. Then at McClane's military knife.
"Assassin and soldier blades are forged in the same fire. The difference is this—one thirsts for blood."
He paused.
"The other refuses to be stained by blood again."
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