"Energy absorption has *that* kind of power?" Stan's voice dripped with envy, his eyes wide as he sprawled on the grass, his body still trembling from the mental exhaustion of testing his new telepathy.
Jason smirked, a smug glint in his eye. "Damn right it does." He leaned back, hands behind his head, relishing the cool night air. That ability was no accident—he'd sifted through hundreds of superpowers, cherry-picking one that wasn't just a game-changer in a fight but had limitless potential to dominate. Compared to run-of-the-mill powers, his energy absorption was a fucking juggernaut.
Stan, drained from his failed attempt to breach Jason's mind, collapsed fully onto the soft grass, his chest heaving. "Alright, while I catch my breath, let's talk shop. You mentioned hitting New York's gangs. Wanna hear what's been going down in the underworld while you were away?"
Jason stretched out beside him, the dew-soaked grass cool against his skin, and yawned dramatically. "Hell yeah, I'm all ears. Lay it on me."
Stan chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow. "It's the same old story—big fish gobble up the small ones, small fish feast on the shrimp. The black-and-white world of the mob is all about power, and you, of all people, know that better than anyone."
Jason nodded, his lips curling into a knowing grin. Strength ruled the streets, and he'd built his empire on that brutal truth.
Stan continued, his voice low and conspiratorial. "When Kingpin was running the show, he hogged the biggest slice of the pie—fucker was practically choking on it, fat and greedy. The rest of the gangs, big and small, were left scraping by on his scraps. But now that Kingpin's gone, it's a goddamn feeding frenzy. Every hungry bastard in the city's clawing for a piece."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "The small-time crews? They're fucked. Even in Kingpin's day, they were starving. Now, they're caught in the crossfire—wiped out, swallowed up, or just fading away into nothing."
Jason cut in, his tone sharp. "So, you're saying New York's underworld pie has already been carved up by the big players."
Stan nodded, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Exactly. The Mexican cartel's got the drug pipeline locked down—cocaine, meth, you name it. The Irish mob's still holding strong in Hell's Kitchen, old-school and ruthless. Then you've got the Chamberlain gang, mostly Black street hustlers from the bottom rungs. The Chinese Triads, running their shit through the Big Circle Gang. And don't forget those biker pricks you fucked over—the Lost Motorcycle Club, still pissed about that stolen bike."
Jason listened intently, mentally cataloging each faction. A sly smile spread across his face as he realized he had connections in every single one—some were old allies, others enemies he'd crossed paths with. He'd met their bosses, shared drinks, traded threats. *Fate's a kinky bitch*, He thought, chuckling to himself.
"Find me their addresses," He said, his voice dripping with intent. "I'm throwing a little dinner party. Time to send some invites to my old pals and catch up."
Stan laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "Those bosses aren't idiots, Jason. A Hongmen Banquet? Good luck getting them to show up for your trap."
Jason's grin turned sinister, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, if they don't show, that's just fucking perfect. Give me the excuse I need to crush them."
Stan froze for a moment, then burst into laughter, slapping his knee. "You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know that?"
*
After talking with Stan, Jason reached his bedroom and found both Harley and Christine waiting for him. Harley was laying on the bed while Christine was drying her hair while only wearing a bathrobe.
Christine looked at Jason through the mirror but before she could say anything Harley jumped on Jason and started kissing him on his lips. Jason grabbed Harley by her ass squeezing the firm curves through her shorts as he kissed her back, matching her intensity. She had wrapped her legs around Jason's waist. She kissed him while also grinding herself on the cock. His cock instantly became hard and Harley rubbed herself harder on him.
Seeing Jason and Harley kissing together, Christine could not stop herself and started to walk toward them. She let the towel fall to the floor and stepped toward them, her bathrobe slipping slightly to reveal the curve of her breast. She didn't say a word but her eyes locked on Jason.
Harley broke the kiss, her lips brushing against Jason's ear as she whispered, "You're already so hard for me." Her fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. She slid down his body, her legs unwrapping from his waist, and knelt in front of him.
With a wicked grin, she unbuttoned his jeans, yanking them down along with his boxers. Jason's cock sprang free, thick and pulsing, and Harley didn't hesitate. She wrapped her hand around the base, her grip firm, and took him into her mouth, her lips sliding down his length in one smooth motion. Jason groaned, his head tilting back as her tongue swirled around the tip, teasing the sensitive underside before she took him deeper, her mouth warm and wet.
Christine reached them, her bathrobe now barely hanging on, the tie loose enough to expose her naked body underneath. She pressed herself against Jason's side, her hands roaming his chest as she kissed his neck, her lips hot against his skin. "You're not leaving me out," She murmured, her voice low and sultry. She nibbled his earlobe, her breath sending shivers down his spine.
Jason's hands moved instinctively—one tangled in Harley's hair, guiding her rhythm as she bobbed on his cock, the other sliding under Christine's bathrobe to grip her bare hip. Christine gasped softly as his fingers dug into her skin, and she pressed her breasts against his arm, her nipples hardening at the contact. She kissed along his jaw, her lips brushing his stubble, before claiming his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. Her tongue danced with his, her moans muffled as she pressed herself closer, her thigh brushing against his.
Harley pulled back for a moment, her hand still stroking Jason's cock, slick with her saliva. "Fuck, you taste so good," She said, her voice husky. She pumped him faster, her eyes flicking up to meet his, then dove back in, taking him so deep her throat tightened around him. Jason's hips bucked involuntarily, the sensation overwhelming, and he groaned into Christine's kiss.
Christine broke the kiss, her lips hovering near his. "My turn," She said, her voice commanding. She slid the bathrobe off completely, letting it pool at her feet, her body now fully exposed—curves glistening from her recent shower. She dropped to her knees beside Harley, but kept her focus on Jason. Her hand joined Harley's on his cock. Christine leaned in, her tongue flicking over the tip of his cock as Harley pulled back, the two women working in tandem but never touching each other. Christine took him into her mouth, her lips softer but no less eager, sucking him with slow, deliberate strokes while Harley's hand kept a steady rhythm at his base
Jason's knees nearly buckled. "Fuck," He growled, his hands gripping their hair—one in Harley's wild locks, the other in Christine's damp strands. The sight of both women on their knees, their mouths and hands working him in perfect sync, was almost too much. His cock throbbed, the pressure building as Christine's tongue teased his slit and Harley's fingers massaged his balls.
Harley stood, her hands tugging at her own clothes now. She stripped off her tank top and shorts, revealing her toned body, her skin flushed with arousal. "I need you inside me," she said, climbing onto the bed and spreading her legs, her fingers already teasing her slick folds as she beckoned him. Jason didn't need to be told twice. He pulled Christine up, before guiding her toward the bed. She followed, her eyes burning with desire, but stayed focused on him, climbing onto the bed beside Harley.
Jason positioned himself between Harley's thighs, his hands gripping her hips as he lined himself up. With one thrust, he buried himself inside her, her tight pussy enveloping him. Harley cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, each thrust deep and hard. Christine straddled Harley's stomach, facing Jason, her hands cupping her own breasts as she guided him to her boobs. "Ahh..mnnhh..fuckk..mee.." Her moans mixing with Harley's as Jason fucked her harder, the bed creaking under them.
"Ahh..Jasoon…fuckk.."
Christine's hand slid down her own body, fingers finding her clit as she rocked against Jason's chest, her kisses growing more frantic. "Don't stop," She whispered against his lips, her body trembling as she touched herself. Harley's hips bucked to meet Jason's thrusts, her walls clenching around him as she neared her climax. "Fuck, Jason, I'm so close," She gasped, her voice breaking.
"Ahh..mhhhnn..ahh…"
Jason's pace quickened, his cock slamming into Harley as he felt her tighten around him. Christine's fingers moved faster, her moans louder as Jason sucked her nipple, her body shaking with her own release. Harley came first, her body arching off the bed as she screamed his name, her pussy pulsing around him. The sensation pushed Jason over the edge, and with a guttural groan, he cum inside her, his thrusts faster as he rode out his orgasm.
Christine collapsed against him, her breath ragged, her own climax leaving her trembling. She kissed his neck softly, her hands still roaming his chest. Harley lay back, panting, a satisfied grin on her face. "You're not done yet, are you?" She teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Jason smirked. "Not even close."
*
The first rays of dawn sliced through the bedroom curtains, casting golden streaks across the sprawling, three-meter-wide bed. Jason stirred, his muscles aching pleasantly from the night's indulgences. Two stunning women lay tangled in the sheets beside him, their naked bodies glistening with sweat, still lost in deep, exhausted sleep. He smirked, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss on each of their flushed cheeks, savoring the warmth of their skin against his lips.
After a quick shower, the hot water cascading over his chiseled frame, Jason made his way to the custom-built gym. Every piece of equipment was maxed out, weights set to challenge even his superhuman strength. Dressed in a tight black tank top and shorts, he threw himself into a brutal workout, sweat pouring down his brow as he pushed his body to its limits, muscles flexing and veins bulging. The clank of iron and his heavy breaths filled the room, a primal symphony of power.
An hour later, freshly showered and smelling faintly of cedarwood cologne, Jason descended to the dining room. The aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wafted from the kitchen, where Robert and his wife bustled about, pans clattering as they prepared breakfast. His crew was already gathered around the polished mahogany table, their voices a low hum of chatter, their faces lit with anticipation.
Taking his seat at the head of the table, Jason wasted no time. "New York's underworld is a goldmine—kidnapping, drugs, smuggling, you name it. Billions in profit every year, just sitting there, begging to be taken. It'd be a fucking crime to let that pass us by. The Joker Organization's next move is simple: we wipe out the competition and take it all."
Christine, her sharp mind honed from years of running black-market deals, leaned forward, her expression tense. "If we go after every gang in New York, it's gonna make waves—big ones. The feds, the military—they'll come down on us like a ton of bricks. Even with your powers, Jason, you're not invincible. A full-scale assault from armored units or air support could end you. And the rest of us? We don't have your abilities. The prisoners we've got? They're cannon fodder. One wrong move, and the whole organization goes down in flames."
Her words hit home, the room falling silent as the others exchanged uneasy glances. They knew she was right—Jason's powers were godlike, but a coordinated military strike could still spell disaster.
Jason leaned back, his grin unshaken, exuding confidence. "The Joker Organization's already on the government's shitlist. We're public enemy number one, and no amount of laying low is gonna change that. They'll come for us whether we play nice or not. So, fuck it—let's make some noise. Stir up so much chaos that the feds and the military are too busy chasing their tails to hit us with everything they've got."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "As long as this ranch stays off their radar, we're untouchable. Let them kill as many of our foot soldiers as they want—it won't touch our core. This plan's a win-win. We take the pressure off, rake in billions, and build our rep. The Joker Organization will rise from the ashes, stronger than ever."
The crew exchanged looks, their minds racing. The logic was brutal but sound. The Joker Organization was already a pariah, hunted relentlessly by law enforcement and the military. Surrender wasn't an option—not with their rap sheets. Hiding would only delay the inevitable. But if they struck first, leveraging Jason's powers, they could grow stronger with every battle, until they could stand toe-to-toe with the government itself.
Franklin, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust, slammed a fist on the table. "Fuck yeah, boss! Just give the word. We storm their HQs, guns blazing, and mow those motherfuckers down!"
Jason raised a hand, his smile sharp. "Easy, tiger. First, we play nice. If we can charm these gangs into bending the knee, we save ourselves the hassle. But if they're too stupid to see the reason…" He trailed off, his grin turning predatory. "Then we paint the streets red."
He pulled out his phone, forwarding an email from Stan that detailed the locations of the major gangs' strongholds. "You'll send out invites to their bosses. Tell them I'm hosting a little dinner to discuss the future of New York's underworld. And those prisoners itching to get out and cause trouble? Let them deliver the messages. Just make sure they keep their mouths shut. Christine, you're in charge. The rest of you, back her up."
"Got it, boss!" The crew chorused, their voices buzzing with excitement.
---
After breakfast, Jason retreated to his private lab to tinker with his powers, his mind alive with possibilities. The others scattered to their tasks, the air crackling with purpose. Their first order of business: drafting the invitations.
Among the crew, Harley stood out as the brains—her PhD in criminal psychology made her the resident scholar in a group of high school dropouts and street toughs. The task of crafting polished, persuasive invites fell to her, her pen scratching furiously as she wove threats and promises into elegant prose.
Meanwhile, Christine led a small team to the prisoners' dorms, a grim concrete bunker on the ranch's edge. The inmates, a volatile mix of murderers and psychos, were restless, their pent-up energy practically vibrating through the walls. Delivering invites to gang strongholds was a dangerous job—history was full of messengers getting their heads lopped off to send a message. No way were the core crew taking that risk.
Christine stood before the assembled prisoners, her presence commanding despite her slender frame. "We need couriers to deliver letters to the city's top gangs," She announced, her voice cold and clear. "Who's in?"
Hands shot up instantly, the prisoners' eyes gleaming with reckless hunger. Danger? They didn't give a fuck. These were men and women who'd slit throats for fun, and the chance to leave the ranch was too good to pass up.
Christine picked a handful of the least unhinged-looking ones, pairing each with a trusted crew member to keep them in line. Two by two, they piled into sleek black SUVs, tires kicking up dust as they sped off toward the city, invitations in hand, ready to set Jason's plan in motion.
.
.
.
.
You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
500 power stones.
Top 50. All time.