A book in which you, the infamous ability stealer, are the newest member of the Port Mafia and as witty as they come. Being the constant centre of attention, you have managed to catch the eye of the notorious young executive; Chuuya Nakahara, but no...
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A/N - I highly recommend that you press play on the song above and let it run throughout this chapter! ;)
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You were suddenly snapped out of your stupefied daze the very moment that those double glass doors had opened, and followed by a gust of cold wind entering the restaurant, waltzed in your target. He was clad in a sharp black suit, his confident stride highlighting omnipotence; an errant, Machiavellian omnipotence, the kind of omnipotence that only someone pure evil who had revelled in pure evil acts without even so much as an inkling of humanity coursing through their veins had the capacity to possess.
The group of old men smoking cigars sitting at the table situated directly next to you all looked up at the exact same time to view the new entrant—and it didn't take long for you to realise that they had been patiently anticipating this man's arrival right from the very beginning, meaning that these were the people your target had planned to meet tonight. The fact that he was currently heading your direction towards the adjacent table full of obnoxious pigs in suits made it a whole lot easier for you and Chuuya to keep a watchful eye on him.
Chuuya recognised him in an instant—he was the arms dealer for the Port Mafia, a man who provided the mafia with many weapons of mass destruction; weapons that not even the Japanese government could legally touch. Lethal and deadly weapons that, if they ended up in the wrong hands, could cause a world war. Chuuya wasn't too sure exactly why he had suddenly become a target that needed to be eradicated—but he must have done something bad behind Mori's back in order to get to this point. Mori wouldn't turn his back on a man who had worked under him for a good handful of years for no apparent reason at all.
Mori was, after all, a slave to his own organisation and quite possibly the most heinous villain known to existence. He was an extreme instance of diseased intellectual property, with the most compelling indifference to moral good or evil, or rather with a decided predilection of the latter, because it had fallen more readily in with his favourite proclivity—giving greater gusto to his thoughts and scope to his actions. He was quite—or even nearly apathetic to his own fate as that of others; he had run all risks for a trifling and doubtful advantage—and was himself the dupe as victim of ruling passion—an insatiable craving after action of the most difficult and dangerous kind. It was Mori's talent for understanding and manipulating the desires of those around him that made him both a powerful and a compelling figure; the perfect mafia boss, and a person who one should be deathly afraid to ever cross.
Poor arms dealer.
Whatever he had done to piss off Mori was definitely not worth it in the long run. The very moment that he had double crossed the devious mafia boss—he had practically signed his death warrant with his own blood.
