01:00 AM
Old Warehouse Sector 7 (New Headquarters)
Rion stood in the center of a vast hall within an abandoned warehouse that had once been a precision instrument factory. This place didn't exist on any updated city maps—a bureaucratic "black hole" discovered by Key. All around him, steel crates with specialized seals were stacked neatly.
Ren walked in, her footsteps echoing against the concrete floor. She looked at the emblem recently painted on the main wall: a lion's head intertwined with barbed wire, silver against a black background.
"Nero Familia," Ren said softly, tasting the name on her tongue. "It sounds like royalty descended into the gutters."
"Nero means black, absolute darkness," Rion replied without turning. "We aren't a street gang, Ren. We are a family for those with no place, and a nightmare for those who feel powerful."
Ren approached one of the crates and pried it open. Inside were not the typical assault rifles used by Seifong or the standard pistols of the police. Instead, there were rows of prototype weapons: XM-22 Rail-Pistols and Acoustic Disruptors.
"These weapons..." Ren touched the cold metal surface. "Even Sinclair doesn't have access to electromagnetic technology like this. Where did you get them?"
"Old connections in Osaka and Northern European black markets," Rion answered. "These don't use conventional gunpowder, so they leave no ballistic residue. The police won't be able to track the projectiles, and standard metal sensors won't detect them as firearms."
Rion picked up a small disc-shaped device. "This is our edge. Our business isn't just selling guns; it's selling tactical superiority. We will supply the smaller factions with this tech so they have the courage to stand against Seifong and Cosa Nostra. Let them tear each other apart while we control the logistics."
Ren nodded, understanding the vision. "So, we become the house in a gambling game we built ourselves. But what is our first move?"
"We start with an 'exhibition,'" Rion said with a thin smirk. "Next week, once the chaos at the harbor settles, we'll invite representatives from the independent gangs here. We'll show them there's a new power in Ironport that can give them the strength to topple giants."
Ren leaned against a workbench covered in weapon blueprints. "Nero Familia won't just sell weapons, Rion. We'll sell them false hope, and keep the real authority for ourselves. I'll handle the money laundering through my charity foundation. No one will suspect that the proceeds from electromagnetic weapon sales are flowing into orphanages."
Rion looked at Ren, realizing how perfect their collaboration truly was. Ren was the beautiful, clean face on the surface, while he was the bloodthirsty war machine in the underground.
"Welcome to Nero Familia, Ren," Rion said, raising a glass of cheap whiskey in a toast.
"Let's burn Ironport in the most elegant way possible, Rion," Ren replied, clinking her glass against his.
Outside the warehouse, Garry was already prepped on his motorcycle to deliver the first invitations, while Key began spreading rumors on the dark web about the emergence of a mysterious organization wielding future technology. The engine of Nero Familia began to roar, ready to swallow anyone who stood in its path.