Meanwhile, on Seventh Avenue, inside the guild hall of Viper Castle...
Hundreds of gang members huddled together like a swarm of restless snakes, weapons clutched in their hands. The air hung thick with the mingled scents of expensive cigars, cheap cigarettes, whiskey, and sweat.
Gold serpentine patterns inlaid in the walls shimmered under flickering lights, whispering the tale of this criminal empire's former glory.
Atop a high platform stood the Rattlesnake, his golden mask catching the spotlight in an awe-inspiring gleam.
He raised a hand slowly—and the raucous hall fell silent in an instant. Only heavy breathing and the faint rustle of leather remained.
"Brothers."
His voice, filtered through the voice changer in his mask, carried a metallic magnetism.
"Do you still remember the pop of champagne in our Manhattan penthouse? The way those wealthy businessmen and celebrities crawled at our feet like dogs?"
A fervent roar erupted from the crowd.
The Rattlesnake spread his arms wide, as if embracing memories of past dominion.
"Do you still remember what it felt like to own this city? Every street was our vault. Every precinct had our men inside!"
His tone sharpened like a blade.
"But everything changed… after that damned Owl showed up!"
A projector flared to life behind him, displaying scorched ruins—the burned-out drug factory, an armored truck riddled with bullet holes, and close-ups of gang members lying cold in the morgue.
The Rattlesnake hissed like the venomous serpent he was named for.
"Because of him, our casino revenue has dropped by sixty percent! He's destroyed over sixty percent of our drug labs! If this goes on, we'll be lucky to collect parking fees!"
He crushed the crystal glass in his hand and roared:
"Those scum who once kissed our boots now dare to spit on our backs! Tell me—can you tolerate such humiliation?"
"No!" Hundreds of voices thundered as one.
"Tell me—do you want to tear that arrogant vigilante limb from limb?"
"Yes!"
The Rattlesnake leapt back onto the platform, the cold light of the spotlight glinting off his mask.
"Before sunset tomorrow, I want the Owl's heart on my table! Five hundred thousand dollars—to every soul who joins the hunt!"
A pause. He let the hunger in their eyes feed his own.
"And whoever delivers the killing blow…"
He let the words hang, savoring the silence.
"…will share the East District's operations—fifty-fifty—with me!"
A deafening cheer shook the crystal chandeliers overhead. Weapons shot into the air; the chambering of rounds echoed like the flick of a viper's tongue.
But just as the frenzy inside Serpent Castle reached its peak—an unnaturally deep engine roar tore through the walls like the howl of a feral beast.
Ordinary thugs looked around in confusion, but Copperspotted Snake stiffened instantly. He knew that sound—the growl of a heavily modified diesel.
"Everyone on alert—!"
His warning was drowned out by an even louder explosion.
BOOM—!!
The three-meter-tall oak gates of Serpent Castle twisted inward with a shriek of rending metal as a Freightliner semi—fitted with a reinforced crash bar—barreled into the hall like a charging titan.
"AAAAAH—!!"
Shrapnel from the shattered gate exploded outward, shredding a dozen gang members too slow to dodge. Blood misted the air.
"Hold it!"
Black Mamba hissed, twin pistols barking—but the rounds only sparked uselessly against the truck's bulletproof windshield.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM—!!
The Freightliner never slowed. It plowed through tables, chairs, and corpses alike, its massive tires splattering gore as it charged straight for the platform.
"Brace!"
Copperspotted Snake and Anaconda sprang into action—suits tearing as muscles swelled. One was genetically enhanced; the other encased in high-tech armor. Together, they threw themselves in front of the runaway beast.
CRUNCH—!!
Copperspotted braced his shoulder against the grille, shattering the marble tiles beneath his boots. Anaconda roared, gripping the bumper with arms corded like steel cables.
The truck kept sliding, tires smoking in a slick pool of blood, dragging them forward.
"Concentrate fire on the tires and cab!" the Rattlesnake barked.
Dozens of rifles opened up at once. Bullets peppered the massive wheels.
PFFT—
The thick rubber finally gave, hissing as air escaped. The truck's momentum waned, crawling to a stop just three meters from the platform—white smoke curling from its crumpled hood.
Panting, Copperspotted and Anaconda staggered back, arms twisted at grotesque angles.
Silence fell like a shroud. Every gun in the hall trained on the empty cab.
The Rattlesnake descended the steps slowly, the gaze behind his mask sharp as a scalpel. He gestured—and trembling underlings stepped forward, gripping the warped door handle.
CREEEAK…
The door tore open with a metallic groan.
The driver's seat was empty.
Beneath it lay a twisted, battered metal baseball bat—almost mocking in its stillness.
"Search the trailer!" the Rattlesnake ordered, fingers tightening around the grip of his pistol.
Python circled to the rear and crushed the heavy lock in her augmented fist. She yanked the doors wide—
—and froze.
Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Inside, dozens of barrels stamped "HIGH EXPLOSIVE – HANDLE WITH CARE" stood in neat rows. At their center, a digital timer blinked crimson digits… counting down.
"Boss! It's—"
She whirled, sweat beading on her brow—but the words died in her throat.
00:00
The world didn't explode with sound.
First came light—pure, blinding, all-consuming.
Then—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A fireball erupted from the trailer, vaporizing everything within twenty meters. The shockwave hit like a god's fist, reducing Serpent Castle's load-bearing walls to dust.
The last thing the Rattlesnake saw was his golden mask melting in the inferno.
Then his mind—and the entire Viper Gang—was flung into the New
York night sky on the back of a rising mushroom cloud.
Windows shattered kilometers away. Sirens wailed down every block of Seventh Avenue.
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