Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

"Get rid of this trash, and I'm in!"

James jerked up immediately and shouted back in a shrill voice,

"Trash?! Look at yourself! A bunch of pussies—all you know is how to beat women and children!"

A single spark was all that it took to ignite the tense atmosphere in the room. Just like Vargas warned Tristan before, these gangsters knew and hated each other for a long while.

"Oh, yeah!" Damien pumped his fist in the air. "Fight, fight, fight! Cull down that junkie, boy-soldier!"

"I will! That will show him whom I can and can't beat!"

Vargas sneered.

"These three are ballast and really shouldn't be here. Can't you see it now, Mr. Hayes? I'd do much better with only me," he said to Tristan, although he pointedly looked at the fighting gangsters as he spoke.

"Cull down?! Never! You will never get me! This was a ploy, I knew it! A trrrrap!"

With that cry, James jumped off the windowsill and reflexively reached for his gun holster—which was empty, because Tristan told everyone to leave their guns in another room.

Just in case.

The movement still triggered everybody's reflexes. Damien tensed like a cat ready to pounce. Victor began rising from his seat.

Martinez leaned away from them. "I'm not doing ANYTHING until you deal with this shitshow, Mr. Hayes," he said quietly.

Sam glanced askance at Tristan, who finally stood up.

'Maybe letting them shout at each other to let out steam and grievances wasn't such a great idea.'

Aloud, he said,

"Quiet! And sit back down. There will be absolutely. No. Fighting. You aren't First Day Army this and James' Boys that and Bluebirds whatever anymore.

Keep your grudges at home and eyes on the goal!"

Tristan's authority was enough to make James sit down, but it didn't stop people from throwing hateful and wary glances at each other.

"Do as you say, or what?" James muttered snidely. "If you want to gun someone down, why not start with Vic-boy here?"

Victor opened his mouth, but Tristan's piercing gaze stopped the words in his throat.

"No, I won't be gunning anyone down. You have already agreed to work with me, and I with you. But if you act like kindergarten children, I will treat you the same. Well? Should I make you shake your hands and make peace? Or maybe put all of you on a timeout in a corner?"

Worse than death for these people—public humiliation. In the eyes of their worst rivals, no less! After all, even if they acted like children at this moment, they still ruled a massive part of the Los Angeles underworld. Each of them had a few dozen men under their command.

Tristan's threat made gangsters look away from each other and pretend to be unaffected. Maintain some dignity, at least. Even Damien was quiet.

The system chimed up with a notification—a few hundred points for a minor intimidation, and a fearsomeness increase.

Satisfied with the lack of response, Tristan nodded and sat back down.

"Now, if nobody has any CONSTRUCTIVE objections, I will continue."

James opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

"Yes, James?"

"What the fuck is 'constructive objection'? You can't build an objection!"

Damien and Victor snickered. Sam suppressed a smirk. Martinez and Vargas scowled harder.

Tristan didn't do any of it, but he wanted to, and also to facepalm.

'This man needs to be replaced in his role as soon as possible. And put into rehab. But for now, I just need his 'boys'."

"If you don't know, then just listen. Anyone else?"

There was shaking of heads.

"No."

"The plan is juicy—tell us more."

"…"

"No objections."

Tristan was sure that these people will still be way too prone to biting each other's throats. But this is what he had the time for right now.

He pointed at Martinez.

"He's a fugitive at the moment, so a perfect bait. Mr. Martinez will call Whitman and claim that if Whitman doesn't let Martinez escape from King Lion Gang's reach, then Martinez will really give police blackmail on the gang and on Whitman himself. Try to pin it back on him."

Martinez gasped.

"But I'd never do something this slimy! I'm not like that snake!"

"Nobody asks you to actually DO these things. But Whitman might believe you. It doesn't matter if he thinks you are just bluffing, either. All I want is that he tracked your location through that call. Maybe he will even suggest that you meet him somewhere to go through details. Calls might be listened into, you know?"

Tristan smirked meaningfully. Martinez frowned thoughtfully.

"Yes… That's… A good idea. I will insist that I talk with him personally, no one else. That would be only reasonable."

Damien nodded.

"Quite smart! If you just suggested a meeting outright, or gave Whitman information yourself, he'd be suspicious. But like that? A perfect bait, shiny but not too easy. And then the fisher comes in. Us!"

"That's right. We will bring all the firepower. Not to fight—but to show what we have. Alone, with only a part of his men, he will be completely defenseless there. He will be ours—whether he gives up or we take him by force! And then he will talk for us to the other half of the gang."

"So no fighting at all? Someone will be disappointed." Victor glanced at Damien.

"There might be fighting. I would prefer to go without. But if Whitman thinks he's done for, he might act desperately. If he dies, it's not the end of the world, but it will make things much more complicated."

"Gotcha. Need Whitman alive, not whole," James muttered through chewed-down fingernails. "Boys to look scary. That's easy, my boys are always scary. Then—cash? Stuff?"

"Cash, weapons, stuff."

"I know a good place where we can put Mr. Martinez to be found," Damien said. "It's a warehouse that stays conveniently empty because several ships were delayed by a storm. It's not huge, but a lot of men will fit in. They can hide behind shelves or something…"

Tristan nodded.

"This might work. We still need to iron out the details. So…"

He reached out and picked his laptop.

"Let's begin."