Rain fell in sheets over the abandoned harbor. The storm had swallowed the moon hours ago, leaving only the occasional flash of lightning to illuminate the battlefield. Rusted cargo containers stretched endlessly across the docks, their metal walls riddled with fresh bullet holes. The air reeked of rainwater, smoke... And blood. People often said there were only two places where no one dared interfere. The first... Was a battlefield. The second... Was when the Moretti Family and the Ashford Family declared war on each other. Tonight happened to be both.

Gunfire echoed across the harbor. Men shouted orders through their communicators. Some dragged injured comrades behind cover while others rushed forward without hesitation. This wasn't a reckless brawl. Both organizations had existed for generations. Every member had been trained. Every movement had purpose. Yet... Even among the chaos... An invisible circle had formed near the center of the docks. No one crossed it. No one wanted to. Because everyone knew who stood there.

A streak of lightning split the sky. For a brief moment... Two figures became visible. One stood with a pistol loosely hanging from his right hand while a combat knife rested comfortably in his left. His blonde hair clung to his forehead from the rain. Blood trickled slowly down his cheek. Yet... He smiled. Not because he was winning. Because he was enjoying himself. Lucien Moretti. Twenty-seven. The youngest mafia boss to ever lead the Moretti Family.

Standing opposite him... A taller man silently wiped the blood from his knuckles. His black hair had become completely soaked. Grey eyes... Cold enough to make even experienced killers hesitate... Never once left the man before him. Damian Ashford. Twenty-seven. Head of the Ashford Family. Lucien's greatest enemy.

For twelve years... They had met on countless battlefields. Warehouses. Construction sites. Forests. Private islands. Even the middle of crowded cities. Neither had ever managed to kill the other. Some called it fate. Others called it a curse. Lucien simply called it... Annoying.

The rain continued to fall. Neither man moved. Around them... The battle gradually slowed. Everyone had unconsciously begun watching. Some things... You simply didn't interrupt.

Lucien rolled his shoulders before stretching his neck. A quiet crack echoed. He looked almost bored. Almost.

A few Moretti members snorted. One immediately covered his mouth. Wrong timing. Very wrong timing.

Several meters away

Beside Damian... Vincent closed his umbrella. He had stopped trying to understand these two years ago.

Lucien suddenly raised his pistol. No warning. No hesitation. Bang.

Damian turned slightly. The bullet grazed his shoulder before disappearing into the darkness. Almost simultaneously... Damian fired back. Lucien ducked. The bullet shattered a streetlight behind him. Darkness swallowed part of the harbor.

Neither reacted. It was normal. They knew each other's fighting style almost as well as their own. Damian preferred precision. Lucien relied on unpredictability. After twelve years... Every scar either carried... Had been given by the other.

Lucien spun his knife once. Twice. Three times. A habit. Whenever he started thinking.

Damian quietly observed him as well.

Their eyes met. Neither looked surprised. They both knew... The other was analyzing them.

...

Another bolt of lightning illuminated the battlefield. Lucien disappeared. The space where he'd been standing became empty. Damian's instincts reacted before his eyes did. Clang!

Steel crashed against steel. Lucien's knife had been only inches away from Damian's throat. The impact forced both of them backward. Water splashed beneath their feet. Neither lost balance.

.......

Behind them... The watching members finally snapped out of their trance. The battle resumed. Gunfire erupted once more. Smoke grenades exploded. Someone shouted for medical support. The battlefield became chaotic again. Only... No one dared approach the center.

.......

Lucien rushed forward again. This time faster. His movements were impossible to predict. Knife. Punch. Kick. Feint. Damian blocked every attack with frightening precision.

He rarely wasted movement. Every dodge looked effortless. Every counterattack... Painful. Lucien barely leaned back in time. Damian's fist brushed past his jaw.

A second later

Lucien's elbow slammed into Damian's ribs. Both grimaced. Neither acknowledged it.

....

....

Several minutes passed. Rain continued washing blood into the harbor. The fight showed no sign of ending. It never did.

....

On a rooftop overlooking the harbor... A lone figure quietly lowered a pair of binoculars. His face remained hidden beneath the hood of a black coat. He watched the two leaders with the patience of someone observing a game whose outcome he already knew. A faint smile curved beneath the shadows.

Without another glance... The figure turned and disappeared into the darkness. Leaving behind only the rain... And two men who had no idea...

That twelve years of hatred had never truly been their own.

...

The rain showed no mercy. It drummed relentlessly against steel containers, splashed over shattered glass, and washed crimson streaks into the dark sea beyond the harbor. The battle had stretched on for nearly forty minutes. No one kept track anymore. Time ceased to matter once the shooting started. Only survival did.

...

...

Near the eastern side of the docks... Ethan Carter slammed the butt of his rifle into an opponent's stomach before sweeping his legs out from under him. The man collapsed with a groan.

Ethan immediately offered a hand to one of the younger Moretti members who had been knocked to the ground moments earlier. The boy couldn't have been older than nineteen. His hands trembled as he accepted Ethan's help. He was bleeding from the forehead. It was probably his first large-scale battle.

Lucien and Damian were still fighting. Neither looked human anymore. Not because they were monsters... But because they refused to slow down.

A tired smile forms on Ethan's face upon the sight

......

On the opposite side..

Vincent had just finished wrapping a bandage around one of his men's injured arm. Despite the battlefield around him... His movements remained calm. Methodical.

Years of experience had taught him one thing. Panic killed faster than bullets.

Even so... Vincent quietly clenched his fists tightly....

...

...

Back in the center...

Lucien slid beneath Damian's attack before driving his shoulder into Damian's chest. The impact forced both of them apart. They landed several feet away from each other.

The exhaustion was beginning to show. Lucien rolled his aching wrist. Damian flexed the fingers of his injured arm.

Neither spoke immediately. The silence between them felt strangely familiar...

....

....

....

A loud explosion echoed somewhere behind them. One of the abandoned warehouses burst into flames after a fuel drum ignited. Orange light danced across the rain-soaked harbor.

For the first time that night... Lucien's grin disappeared. His amber eyes reflected the growing fire. Just for a heartbeat... Something unreadable crossed his expression.

The feeling vanished almost instantly. He looked back at Damian as though nothing had happened. But Damian had noticed. He always noticed.

Lucien twirled the knife once before slipping it back into its sheath. Instead... He drew another pistol.

...

Suddenly..

Bang Bang Bang

Three shots. Neither man flinched. Each bullet missed by mere centimeters. Concrete shattered. A cargo container echoed with the impact. One bullet tore through Lucien's sleeve. Another grazed Damian's thigh.

Neither acknowledged the new injuries. Afterall, pain had become an old acquaintance.

...

Several members nearby instinctively stopped fighting again. Even after all these years... Watching the two leaders clash was mesmerizing.

...

Across the battlefield...

An Moretti sniper overheard them through his earpiece.

Three people. From two enemy organizations. Betting together. None of them realized what they were doing until a few seconds later.

Silence. Then... All three awkwardly looked away and resumed fighting as if nothing had happened.

...

High above them... Thunder rolled across the sky.

Lucien suddenly staggered. Only slightly. Most people wouldn't have noticed. Damian did.

Blood continued dripping from Lucien's side. The earlier gunshot had reopened. Meanwhile... Damian's shoulder had nearly soaked half his sleeve crimson.

Neither could continue much longer. They both knew it. Neither wanted to admit it.

...

...

...

The sound echoed between them.

Neither looked away.

A few nearby Ashford members bit the insides of their cheeks to stop themselves from laughing.

Across the battlefield... Ethan slowly covered his face.

...

Meanwhile on their side

...

Another crack of thunder rolled overhead. Vincent glanced at his watch. His expression hardened.

...

Meanwhile... Ethan was receiving almost the same report.

Lucien is still standing. Still grinning. Still refusing to end the fight.

...

Back in the center...

Across the battlefield, several members from both gangs stared in disbelief.

The brief, almost absurd exchange ended as another burst of gunfire erupted elsewhere in the harbor.

Both Lucien and Damian instinctively turned their heads toward the sound.

The moment of levity vanished. Their expressions hardened once more.

The battlefield was calling them back. And neither leader could ignore it.

...

...

...

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