The treason scandal involving the Colombo family gradually died down. After Persico was sent to prison, he became a godfather behind bars—the true shadow boss pulling strings from the inside. The acting boss of the Colombo family was handed over to a man named Thomas "Tom" DiBella, while Persico continued directing everything remotely from his cell.
At the same time, the Colombo family began aggressively recruiting new blood and building connections with outside partners to rebuild its strength. Among them was a college student named Michael Franzese, who—under his father's guarantee—became an associate, running errands for made men while waiting for the day he could formally join through a blood oath.
While the Colombo family was rebuilding from the ground up, the other powerful families on the East Coast were already operating at an entirely different level. Luca's gasoline tax business had expanded south to Philadelphia and Atlantic City, and further north toward Massachusetts and Boston.
In Boston, the Russians held considerable influence, and Luca's cooperation with them became smoother by the day. To the south, Frank Sheeranand union president Frank Fitzsimmons both got involved, helping Luca keep the operation running efficiently.
January became the turning point.
The IRS finally stepped in to investigate the taxes—only to discover that the company in question had already been abandoned, and the Russians had vanished without a trace.
The agents were completely baffled.
They launched a follow-up investigation, only to find that everyone involved had already fled to Russia. Conducting investigations on Russian soil was nearly impossible for American agents.
Digging deeper into the companies themselves led nowhere. Most of them were overseas shell companies, offering little to no useful information. The trail effectively ended at the wholesale level.
Meanwhile, in obscure corners no one paid attention to, new wholesale companies quietly emerged—continuing the same cycle, exploiting the system and flooding the U.S. market with cheap gasoline.
Of course, the IRS wasn't stupid. After the first failed audit, they became far more cautious and began expanding their investigations across gasoline companies nationwide.
When Luca received the news, he remained completely unfazed.
Tax investigations were inevitable. If one shell company collapsed, he would simply create another. Most of these companies were registered in places like Panama anyway. If the IRS really wanted to dig into this, they would have to peel back layer after layer—and ultimately redesign the entire tax system to close the loophole. Otherwise, there would always be someone exploiting it.
By now, Luca had already siphoned off hundreds of millions in tax revenue—and he was still pulling in over 10 of million of dollars per week from the scheme. After distributing shares to the family and partners, couple millions still ended up in his own pocket.
Before he even realized it, he was already approaching Centimillionaire status.
Making money this fast through illegal business in the United States…
And Luca still wasn't satisfied.
He wasn't even at his "small goal" yet. How could he stop now?
Business mattered—but there were more important things on his mind.
One was advancing his title skills. The problem was, large-scale conflicts and crises didn't come around often. The drug wars and the Colombo conflict counted, sure—but those kinds of opportunities were rare.
Luca needed to get out more.
If he stayed in New York forever, he might never encounter something on that scale again. Outside the city, there might be more opportunities—and maybe even more rare cards.
The second reason?
That nephew was coming.
The plane had already taken off.
No matter what, he would help that nephew settle down first. Whether he wanted to drive trucks or open a martial arts school—that was up to him.
And if he didn't want either…
Well, becoming the bodyguard of the "Peace Ambassador" wasn't a bad option either.
Just thinking about it made Luca feel oddly reassured.
---
NYPD Office.
As a SWAT officer constantly on the front lines, John McClane had been promoted after the Colombo operation. With a raise and a new title, he was now a Lieutenant.
(TN: The original source says "Sheriff," but since the NYPD doesn't have that rank, I've changed it to Lieutenant, idk much stuff about police, so, CMIIW.)
At a recent press conference, McClane had represented the department, recounting the challenges of the past few months and how the police had fought bravely against the Mafia.
He had become something of a rising star in the NYPD.
"Now I'm a Lieutenant too—haha!" McClane dropped into a chair in front of David. "Next time, I'll stay in the back and command with you. Let someone else handle the front lines."
David gave him a look. "With your luck? That's not something you get to decide."
His gaze drifted upward—to McClane's thinning hairline.
Without saying anything, he tossed a file onto the desk.
"Jewelry robbery in Times Square last week. I was tied up with the Colombo case, so I handed it off. Still nothing."
McClane flipped it open. Inside was a list of stolen items—diamonds worth roughly a billion dollars.
"Professional job," David said. "Clean execution. No obvious clues."
"We're tracking the underground jewelry market now. If anything surfaces, we'll hear about it."
McClane leaned back, unimpressed.
"Why not ask the Dove? He definitely knows more about the underground than we do."
David's face twitched. "Are you addicted or something? Always running to him."
"What addiction? It's called cooperation."
"…"
David sighed. "There's another case. Fourteen dump trucks were stolen on Long Island."
McClane blinked. "Fourteen? What, are they starting a construction company?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
McClane thought for a moment. "Could be insurance fraud. Contractors working with thieves. I've seen similar cases in California and New Jersey."
David closed the file. "Let's move. We'll check it out ourselves."
---
At the same time, a black vintage car was heading toward the airport.
Today, Luca was picking up that nephew.
As Jimmy drove, he updated Luca on the union's situation. Ever since Luca raised wages and improved benefits, his position in the Teamster Local 560 Union had become rock solid.
To the workers, he wasn't just a leader anymore.
He was practically a savior.
"Dove, there's something else," Jimmy said. "Fourteen trucks were stolen on Long Island."
"So many?" Luca frowned. "Union-related?"
Jimmy shook his head. "Family business."
"…What?"
"They were our garbage trucks."
Luca blinked.
The Lucchese family controlled most of New York's waste management industry. Their fleet of garbage trucks was massive, and some routes even connected to ports for overseas processing. It was a clean, legitimate, and extremely profitable business.
And someone… stole garbage trucks?
Fourteen of them? Why?
Luca felt like he'd seen this plot before—but couldn't quite place it.
"Any leads?"
"Not yet. We've already filed an insurance claim," Jimmy said calmly. "Whether we recover them or not, we'll get paid."
Luca shook his head.
Jimmy really never missed a chance to make money.
Still, he added, "Garbage trucks don't matter. But no one touches our oil tankers."
That was the real money.
Losing fourteen fuel tankers would be catastrophic.
---
They arrived at JFK Airport.
After getting out, Jimmy asked casually, "So… your friend from out of town?"
"My friend's nephew," Luca replied with a grin.
Jimmy: "…"
Inside the airport, Ma Hon Keung dragged his suitcase, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.
Almost everyone around him spoke a foreign language. He couldn't hear a word of his own.
In Hong Kong, there were plenty of foreigners.
Here… he was the foreigner.
"Uncle Bill said someone would pick me up…" he muttered.
Were they really that close?
Thinking back to the voice he heard on the phone—young, calm, confident—Keung couldn't help but feel puzzled. The guy sounded even younger than him, yet somehow he was friends with Uncle Bill.
And he kept talking about opening martial arts schools anywhere in New York… like the whole city belonged to him.
Honestly?
Keung didn't quite believe it.
Not because of the man—
But because Uncle Bill was just a small supermarket owner. How could he possibly know someone that powerful?
It didn't add up.
"…Whatever."
As he stepped outside, his gaze swept across the crowd—until it landed on a tall man dressed in black.
Sharp features.
Cold presence.
The kind of aura you couldn't ignore.
Before Keung even realized it, he was already walking toward him.
"Hey Keung! Finally!"
The sound of his native tongue hit him like a physical wave, instantly transporting him back to the streets of Hong Kong.
Then—
A hug.
"Luca! Thanks for coming to get me!"
Luca stepped back, studying him like he'd just found treasure.
Strong build, Solid stance, Thick hair, and Not bald.
Yet somehow… overwhelmingly powerful.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Character Card Discovered: Ma Hon Keung (Unlocked)]
[Rank: SSR]
[Source: Rumble in the Bronx]
[Skills: Furniture City God of War, Pain Theatrics, Death-Defying Stunts, Kung Fu Master, Descendant of the Dragon]
[Bond: Stranger]
__________________________________________________________________________
Looking at the skill list, Luca couldn't help but be impressed.
Every single one of them was ridiculously strong.
"Descendant of the Dragon…"
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…Can an Italian learn that?"
==============================================================
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