The underworld's elite sat in the dimly lit conference hall, the air thick with tension. Ochieng could see it in their eyes—greed, ambition, and the hunger for absolute power.
Natasha's suggestion of a "competition" was nothing short of a declaration of war.
Ochieng leaned back, his fingers tapping the armrest. If this was going to be a test of strength, then blood would surely flow.
Abasi smirked. "I like this idea. No politics. No backstabbing. Just strength deciding who deserves to lead."
Veronica's grip on her glass tightened. "This isn't a game, Abasi."
"But it is," Natasha interrupted, sipping her wine with an amused expression. "The strongest will rise. The weak… will disappear."
Ochieng finally spoke, his voice calm but sharp. "And what exactly are the rules of this 'competition'?"
Natasha's lips curled into a devilish smile. "Simple. Survival."
The room went silent.
She continued, "Each of you will be given a mission—an impossible task, one that will test not just your strength, but your mind, your alliances, and your ability to control the underworld. Fail, and you're out. Win… and you take one step closer to ruling it all."
A few syndicate leaders exchanged wary glances. Some were eager, others hesitant.
Ochieng remained still. This was dangerous. But also… an opportunity.
---
One of the cartel bosses chuckled darkly. "So, what happens if we refuse?"
Natasha's eyes gleamed. "Then you become irrelevant. And in this world, irrelevance leads to one thing—death."
Abasi chuckled. "I'm in."
A billionaire leaned forward. "Me too."
One by one, the powerful figures in the room agreed.
Finally, Natasha turned to Ochieng. "What about you?"
Silence.
Then, Ochieng smirked. "If I play… I play to win."
Natasha raised her glass. "Then it's settled."
The game had begun.
---
Later that night, Ochieng sat in his penthouse, deep in thought. This wasn't just a competition—it was a battlefield where only the cunning survived.
His phone buzzed. A message from Natasha.
"Your first mission: Take down the White Lotus Syndicate. You have 72 hours. Fail, and you're out."
Ochieng's eyes darkened.
The White Lotus Syndicate wasn't just another criminal group. They were the most ruthless in the city.
If he wanted to survive, he had to be smarter, faster, deadlier.
---
Ochieng took a deep breath, then dialed a number. The call connected instantly.
"Boss," a deep voice answered.
"I need intel on the White Lotus Syndicate. Their hideouts, weaknesses, and who their leader trusts the most."
There was a pause before the man responded, "Consider it done."
Ochieng hung up. He had 72 hours to dismantle an empire.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, his mind already racing through possibilities.
This wasn't just about survival. This was about proving dominance.
The underworld had just declared war.
And Ochieng planned to win.
---