After leaving Yuri's apartment, Luca hadn't made it far along the park before a car pulled up beside him, with Hobbs—this massive guy—crammed into the back seat.
"Agent Hobbs."
"Let's talk in the car."
The door opened, Luca got in, and the car pulled away. Along the ride, Luca filled Hobbs in on everything regarding Yuri—the intel, his role in the gold heist, and where he stood now.
"Yuri has agreed to cooperate," Luca said. "You can keep eyes on him or deal with him directly if needed. He doesn't have a choice anymore."
Luca had kept Simon in the dark but laid all his cards on the table with Yuri. Yuri was just a variable—not the biggest one—but useful enough to speed things toward an ending. Under federal pressure, Yuri had nowhere to run, especially since his entire business depended on staying in the government's good graces. The moment he turned against them, his empire would collapse overnight.
International police usually had their hands tied by rules and jurisdiction, forced to watch helplessly as people like Yuri shipped missiles and helicopters across borders. But when necessary, the United States could bend—or outright ignore—those rules.
Hobbs listened, then gave a firm nod. "Looks like it's time to close the net."
Luca nodded. "I'll help Simon move the gold to the drop point Yuri designated. You just wait there. Or, if you want to play it safe, you can keep tracking down the rest of the gold across New York State. Once Simon confirms the transport timing, I'll give you the exact location."
Hobbs didn't hesitate. "I want both. I want every stash located, and I want the full shipment to arrive in one place. We take them all down at once. If we move too early, they'll scatter."
"No problem," Luca replied. "Give me five days. I'll have everything lined up."
"Appreciate it." Hobbs grinned.
Strangely enough, Hobbs realized something as they talked. When he first approached Luca, it was with suspicion, maybe even hostility—but now, sitting beside him, it felt... natural. No tension, no friction. Maybe it was because the case was finally nearing its end, and that sense of closure drowned out everything else.
While Hobbs was deep in thought, Luca glanced at him from the corner of his eye. At this point in time, Hobbs hadn't crossed paths yet with that certain infamous crew—the bald family man-headed driver and his gang. If Luca remembered correctly, their first real collaboration would happen later, in Rio de Janeiro. Back then, that ex-fed had already switched sides and joined the crew full-time.
From there, things got... ridiculous.
Car chases across rooftops, across oceans, even into situations that felt like they belonged in science fiction. Hobbs and that crew—once just small-time truck thieves—ended up becoming something like an international "special ops" team.
Luca found it oddly fitting. One group used to steal trucks, the other hunted criminals—and somehow, they ended up working together like family.
So Hobbs cooperating with him, a Mafia member? That didn't surprise Luca at all. The man was pragmatic—he used whatever tools he had to solve problems.
Maybe, Luca thought, there'd be chances to work together overseas someday.
"Luca," Hobbs suddenly said, turning to him, "you're different from most Mafia guys I've dealt with. You're the first one who actually helps the police."
Luca didn't hesitate. "McClane is my friend. He's in trouble—I help. That's it."
Hobbs blinked, slightly surprised. "You're closer than I thought. No wonder he speaks so highly of you."
"I help where I can," Luca said with a faint smile. "Someday, they'll return the favor."
Hobbs studied him for a moment before chuckling. "So you're saying I might need your help one day?"
"If that day comes," Luca replied calmly, "I'll be glad to hear from you."
Who would need who the most? Hard to say.
But Luca had a feeling—Hobbs would run into far bigger trouble down the line. The kind involving global threats, not just criminals. The kind where entire cities—or worse—were on the line.
This world wasn't safe. Not even close.
And someone had to make sure the people who loved chaos played by the rules.
---
Five days later, one afternoon.
Luca returned to the safehouse outside New York and sat down with Simon, who was still recovering from his injury. He laid out the plan and arranged for their departure the following day.
The gold would be hidden inside garbage trucks—buried under layers of rotting trash. Luca would handle everything along the route.
After confirming the plan, Simon contacted Yuri and finalized the pickup: Boston Harbor, cargo ship ready, and Yuri leaving under the cover of an arms shipment—taking the gold along with it.
That evening, the remaining trucks carrying gold rolled out from different locations, all heading toward Boston. Luca and Simon rode together in one of them.
As night fell, the highway stretched ahead, and the road signs counting down to Boston ticked lower and lower.
Simon exhaled, visibly relaxing. Even Luca, sitting beside him, suddenly seemed more pleasant to look at.
The smell inside the truck, however, was absolutely brutal.
Luca chuckled. "Relax. Garbage won't ruin gold. Worst case, it just smells bad. It's still gold."
"As long as it gets out safely," Simon said, stretching his injured leg, "you could bury it in anything."
He leaned back, voice turning thoughtful. "Gold is one of the most stable elements out there. Doesn't corrode, doesn't explode, doesn't decay. People like stability—things they can control."
Luca didn't argue. That part was true.
"How's your leg?"
"Nothing serious." Simon shook his head, eyes fixed on the distant glow of Boston. "Almost there."
---
Boston Harbor,
Yuri stood by the shoreline, cigarette burning fast in the sea breeze—just like his patience.
This wasn't just about the gold. Interpol had been buzzing around him nonstop, like flies that wouldn't die. No evidence yet, sure—but they never stopped watching.
It was exhausting.
He adjusted the bulletproof vest hidden under his shirt, finally feeling a little safer.
Soon, Simon would arrive. The police would spring the trap. Chaos would erupt.
Yuri sighed. "Can't blame me... I really wanted that gold."
One big score, and he could retire. No more lies, no more secrets from his wife.
Then he looked up—and locked eyes with someone not far away ... John McClane.
McClane glanced at him briefly, then turned to David. "How long until Dove's shows up?"
"They've entered the city," David replied, checking intel through his phone and radio. "Multiple garbage trucks confirmed en route."
"Nice!" McClane grinned. "Finally wrapping this up. We did good, right?"
"Don't celebrate yet," David muttered, rubbing his temples. "At best, we cleaned up our own mess."
McClane's smile faded.
"Simon played us," David continued. "Stole the gold right under our noses. We're lucky we're even getting it back."
McClane sighed. "At first I thought it was revenge. Turns out—it was always about the gold."
"The bombs made everything worse," David said quietly. "If those had gone off in full… we'd be dealing with something else entirely."
He shook his head. Compared to that scenario, this outcome was acceptable.
The gold recovered. Casualties minimal. Simon—about to be finished.
Not long after, the trucks arrived.
Luca and Simon were the first to step out, accompanied by a few mercenaries. Nearby, one of Yuri's associates complained, shaking his head.
"I swear, I can never tell if you Germans are joking or serious. Next time, give me a warning."
Simon smirked faintly. "Truth often sounds like a joke."
Leaning on a subordinate, limping slightly, he slipped back into that theatrical tone:
"If I say 'Simon says'… you'd better listen carefully."
Luca watched quietly from the side.
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[Simon Says]
When a command begins with "XX says," compliance rate increases by 10%, forcing participants to follow the rules.
[Requirement: Bond – Close Friend | Cost: 100 Skill Fragments]
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The entire NYPD had been dragged into that twisted game once.
Luca found it amusing—it felt almost biblical.
"Let there be light."
And suddenly, there was.
Maybe one day, when he sat at the High Table, people would obey the same way.
"Luca says."
More trucks arrived.
Gold was unloaded from piles of garbage, cleaned, and packed into cargo crates prepared by Yuri—crates that, conveniently, were already under police surveillance.
Everything went smoothly.
Too smoothly.
When the last crate was loaded, Simon finally exhaled.
It was over.
He turned to Luca. "Dove … sorry for dragging you into this. What now? You staying in New York?"
Luca smiled faintly. "Maybe I'll take my gold somewhere quiet."
Simon shook his head. "There's no such place."
Then he pulled out a blood pact and handed it over.
"We won't walk the same road, but this… was a good partnership."
Luca opened it. Simon's bloody fingerprint was still fresh inside.
[Bond: Close Friend]
[New Skill Unlocked - Simon Says]
Simon turned away. "See you again, Dove. If you ever hit rock bottom—come find me."
Luca watched him go, gripping the pact tightly.
Then—
Click.
Floodlights exploded to life, turning night into day.
Every beam locked onto Simon.
He froze.
Slowly turned.
And saw it.
Police—everywhere.
They moved past Luca without a glance and closed in on him.
In that instant, Simon's pupils shrank to pinpoints. His body swayed.
The truth hit him all at once.
The Mafia… didn't want the gold.
He had been wrong from the start.
A bitter smile spread across his face.
He had never understood Luca.
Not even once.
Then the officers blocked his view completely.
Bootsteps approached.
McClane stepped forward, fully armed, voice cold and sharp:
"Simon… your little motherfucker game is over."
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