In a secluded lit building hidden away in California, the world’s most dangerous mafia members gathered. The air was thick with tension as each group took turns showcasing their newest weapons, hoping to impress Drew, the most powerful mafia boss in the state. 
The room was filled with hushed conversations and the occasional metallic clatter, yet all eyes were on the grand chair where Drew watched with an expression that rarely betrayed interest.
Leo and Marco from Black Salvatore stood in the back, observing as each presenter tried to dazzle the crowd with their offerings. But Drew, seated in his commanding position, remained unimpressed.
Finally, it was Black Salvatore’s turn.
Leo, with his confident stride, made his way to the front alongside Marco. The room fell into a tense silence; everyone knew that when Black Salvatore stepped up, something big was about to happen.
Marco opened a sleek black case, revealing a strikingly futuristic firearm. The design was sleek, matte black, with glinting metal highlights that caught the light just right.
“I present to you,” Marco began, his voice steady and authoritative, “the Salvatore MK-IX.”
There was a murmur of curiosity among the gathered mafia members. Drew leaned forward slightly, finally showing a flicker of interest.
“What makes it special?” Drew asked, his voice deep and commanding.
Marco nodded, prepared for the question. “This weapon is equipped with advanced heat and motion detection sensors. It can pinpoint a target with pinpoint accuracy, even through walls. And with custom ammunition, it can penetrate multiple layers of reinforced steel.”
One of the other mafia members scoffed. “We’ve seen armor-piercing rounds before,” he said dismissively.
Marco shot him a cool glance. “Not like these,” he replied. “Our bullets maintain velocity after impact, ensuring they reach their target no matter the obstacle.”
To demonstrate, Marco lifted the weapon, aimed at a reinforced metal target at the side of the room, and fired. The shot rang out, and the bullet pierced clean through the thick steel, leaving a clean hole. The crowd gasped, and even Drew’s eyes widened slightly.
“Impressive,” Drew said, stepping closer. “But what about traceability? You know how important that is.”
Leo stepped forward, finally breaking his silence. “This model comes with anti-trace technology,” he explained. “Once fired, it leaves no heat signature or ballistic trail. No one will know where it came from.”
Drew’s eyes narrowed as he looked between Leo and Marco. “No heat signature, huh? You’re telling me this thing’s invisible?”
Leo nodded, a confident smile tugging at his lips. “That’s right. It’s the ghost in the night.”
Drew circled them slowly, clearly intrigued but not entirely convinced. “You’re not just here to show off, are you?” he asked.
“No,” Leo replied smoothly, “We’re here to do business. We’re offering exclusive rights to the MK-IX                                 *—if the price is right.”
Drew’s lips curled into a grin. “You boys have balls, I’ll give you that. But trust doesn’t come easy in this business.”
Leo didn’t flinch. “We’re prepared to earn it, Drew. Let us prove that Black Salvatore delivers not just firepower, but loyalty.”
Drew chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “Alright, Leo,” he said, “you’ve piqued my interest. But if you’re playing me...” He left the threat hanging in the air, a clear warning.
Leo met Drew’s gaze, unblinking. “We don’t make promises we can’t keep.”
The room erupted into whispers as Drew nodded, signaling that he was willing to discuss further. As Leo and Marco stepped away from the center stage, the other mafia members watched them with a mix of admiration and envy.
“Think he’ll take the deal?” Marco whispered as they walked back.
“He will,” Leo replied confidently. “Once he realizes we’ve given him something no one else can.”
Drew leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on Leo. “I’ll take it,” he finally said, his tone carrying the weight of a final decision. “Your MK-IX is exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
Leo gave a satisfied nod. “I’m sure you won’t regret it,” he replied smoothly.
Drew motioned to Marco. “Handle the transaction with my men. I want everything finalized tonight.”
Marco nodded and moved to the side, where Drew’s associates were waiting to complete the deal. Meanwhile, Drew gestured for Leo to stay behind. The room cleared out, leaving the two men standing face-to-face.
“I don’t trust easily, Leo,” Drew said, his voice low. “But you and your crew… you’ve earned a sliver of it today.”
Leo gave a faint smile. “Trust is a rare commodity in our line of work, Drew. I’m just here to deliver results.”
Drew chuckled darkly. “For your sake, I hope that’s true.” He extended a hand, and Leo shook it firmly.
With business concluded, Leo signaled Marco, who had just finished handling the paperwork. “We’ll take our leave,” Leo said, offering Drew a polite nod. “Pleasure doing business with you. I trust we’ll have more of these collaborations in the future.”
Drew, still seated in his high-backed leather chair, gave a curt smile. “We’ll see, Leo. You’ve delivered, so for now, consider us on good terms.”
As Leo and Marco turned to exit, the air between them relaxed—if only slightly. But just as they reached the heavy wooden doors leading out, a sudden clamor erupted in the hallway outside. The sound of hurried footsteps and frantic voices broke through the otherwise cold, calculated ambiance of Drew’s underground headquarters.
One of Drew’s men, a burly figure with a shaved head and a scar slashing across his cheek, burst into the room, panting heavily as if he had sprinted the entire length of the corridor. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and there was a wild, panicked look in his eyes.
“Boss, we’ve got a serious problem!” he shouted, nearly colliding with the doorframe in his haste.
Drew’s once-relaxed demeanor evaporated. He shot up from his chair with the speed of a man half his age. “What is it?” he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. The entire room seemed to tense, the temperature dropping several degrees.
The henchman gulped audibly, struggling to catch his breath. “The Blue Diamond… it’s gone! Someone stole it right from under our noses.”
The room fell into an oppressive silence, thick with disbelief. Drew’s eyes narrowed to slits, his jaw clenching so hard it looked like it might crack. “What do you mean, stolen?” he hissed, each word laced with fury.
The man hesitated, looking like he would rather be anywhere else but here. Finally, he held out a torn piece of dark fabric, his hand trembling. The emblem embroidered on it—a fierce black dragon coiled around a sword—was unmistakable.
“Lock down the city. Nobody leaves without my permission,” he commanded.
                                 *