Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 18: The Bar Lords Conclave.

In a modern, softly illuminated conference room, Lord Maximus presided over his partners, cradling a glass of rich mahogany whiskey. The space, painted with a distinct bastard amber hue, carried the scent of alcohol and smoke, embodying their ominous arena for clandestine discussions, where dancing shadows accentuated the prevailing tension.

The Symbol of the Shaque graced the wall - a scary half faces separated by a pole, which added to the room's enigma. Each partner, a force in their own right, gathered under Lord Maximus's unspoken dominance. The room's fusion of technology and modern design spoke of power struggles veiled in sophistication.

As Lord Maximus sipped his whiskey, his influential presence filled the room, breeding an atmosphere of fear. Here, within this malevolent nexus, dark schemes found their genesis, leaving no space for hope to penetrate the imposing shadows cast by Lord Maximus and his inner circle.

Five figures, clad in sharp corporate suits and adorned with hats, surrounded a collection of various alcohols. Their intense focus and handsome appearances radiated confidence. As he addressed them, his speech carried a touch of wit, his gestures commanding attention in the room.

Lord Thorn Russo, a bald man with a full beard, pierced ears, and tattoos that extended from his head to his neck, presided over his cemetery-based mafia initiative known as the Midnight Consortium.

Lord Dante Nyx Argent, known as DNA, exuded an aura of unparalleled danger among the lords. His imposing appearance boasted intricate tattoos etched upon both his ears and face, accentuating his dark complexion, all intensified by his piercing grey eyes.

He led The Shadow Pact, directing terrorism alongside firearm sales—an alliance with Lord Maximus to further the drug scheme known as The Shaque.

Lord Zephyr Al- Khaliq, a man with wild, untamed hair, adorned with piercings and a body covered in intricate tattoos, commanded the fearsome mafia organization known as The Inferno Circle—infamous for audacious heists of priceless artworks and skill in replicating historical artifacts.

Lord Draven Serpico, leader of the Eclipse Legion, oversaw a merciless mafia organization renowned for manufacturing untraceable chemicals. Despite being the eldest among them, his place within Lord Maximus's esteem was unmatched.

Adorned with tattoos across his chest and neck, Draven possessed an intellect that surpassed all others, particularly noted for his unparalleled expertise in computer expertise.

Lord Vesper Dusk led the enigmatic Phantom Cartel, a syndicate solely dedicated to mineral trade and illicit extractions. Adorned with piercings along his earlobe and jawline, he bore tattoos tracing down his arms.

The group, known as The Bar Lords, operated under the Shaque's banner in the concealed realm of Catania, Italy. Consisting of six members excluding Lord Maximus, they navigated the clandestine world with expertise and accuracy.

Among them, the sixth member bore the title of The Butcher's Worm—a notorious sharpshooter feared for her lethal skills.

During her reign, she carried out ruthless operations, eliminating anyone blocking her path and providing crucial intel to Lord Maximus. Her fearlessness in executing perilous drug deliveries earned her the infamous title—The Butcher's Worm.

As the lone female among the Bar Lords, she was notorious for her venomous nature and peerless malevolence, earning her respect and fear in equal measure. Despite being the youngest among this chilling cohort, her reputation was unmatched.

In the heavy silence, Lord Maximus abruptly broke it with a sharp declaration, "There's another blood to be inducted into the Shaque. Zayn is his name, and he's about to wade into my drug empire, despite his inexperience." His words carried a sneer, accompanied by a wry smile.

He pressed on, "What is the verdict from the Bar Lords? Seems like a grand plan, doesn't it?" His hand gestured in agreement as Lord Thorn Russo signaled to speak, responding softly, "Speak, Lord Russo."

A smile tugged at Lord Russo's lips as his gaze swept the room. Veils of smoke curled from his mouth when he sighed, shaking his head in dissent. "Lord Maximus, a mere novice cannot dance in our arena. Is he a recruit or just kin?" he inquired.

Lord Vesper Dusk cut in sharply, his voice a blade through the room's silence. "Russo, our organization thrives on discretion. He cannot possibly be of his own blood."

The room lingered in tense anticipation as Lord Maximus finished his drink, the sound of the glass hitting the conference table reverberating sharply in the room.

His fingers smoothed over his suit, a slight quiver in his hand before he spoke, "My intention is for him to reclaim the title lost a year ago."

Russo's laughter filled the space, a hollow sound in the weighty air. "The Butcher's Worm, you say? We've witnessed the chaos and betrayal that title brought to the Shaque. And yet, you intend to pursue it?"

"Indeed, Russo," Maximus muttered, his voice heavy with conviction. "There's an air of mystery around him, a dark allure that I aim to harness to our advantage." His eyes gleamed with a chilling determination, harboring intentions known only to him.

"Lords, what are your thoughts on this, DNA?" Lord Russo's call punctuated the air, accompanied by wisps of swirling smoke from his nostrils.

DNA smiled and poured rum into his goblet, his fingers brushing against the smooth, aged glass, the liquid swishing softly as it settled.

"The Shaque holds the potential for anything," he mused calmly, "We've experienced a considerable decline in profits since her departure. Her title may have seemed insignificant, but her role was absolutely vital within the Shaque."

He raised the glass to his lips, the golden liquid disappearing within a single, smooth swallow, vanishing into the depths of his mysterious persona.

Lord Dusk, with a smooth flick of his wrist, lit up a stick, the tip glowing like a menacing eye in the dimly lit chamber. He drew a deep inhalation, the smoke curling upward like ethereal tendrils.

"What made you choose him?" His voice resonated, carrying a hint of intrigue and skepticism. "What's so special?"

Lord Draven's voice cut through the smoke-filled air, sharp and resolute. "The Butcher's Worm is dead. How can a mere weakling replace her?" His words carried an ominous weight, the atmosphere growing heavier with the gravity of his doubt and disbelief.

"Cease this banter as if you were divine beings before setting foot in the Shaque. Remember, I'm the one who shaped every soul seated here, did I not? None of you brought your own power into these territories. I am the sole judge here. Any more inquiries?" Lord Maximus stated firmly, accentuating his words with exhales of smoke that lingered in the tense air.

They shook their heads in silence, signifying their lack of questions, intimidated by Lord Maximus's demeanor.

Lord Maximus's menacing expression twisted into a snarl. "No inquiries? Very well, I have something to show you," he announced, pulling out a drop screen that unveiled an image of Zayn.