GLACIER TRUCE

The night stank of gasoline and gun oil.

Down by the dockyard, where the mist crawled low like smoke from the underworld, Hades Fruit moved in silence.

No chatter. No wasted motion.

Renzo's voice was the only one cutting through the calm, low and cold.

"Quick. In, out. No noise. Glacier, handle the right wing with the other mobsters. Ace, keep your eyes on the containers."

It was supposed to be simple, retrieve the shipment, erase the trail, disappear before sunrise.

But fate had other plans.

From the other end of the pier, footsteps echoed...measured, deliberate, not afraid.

Glacier's head lifted first. He saw shadows move through the fog, three silhouettes walking like they owned the night.

And just like that, calm snapped.

Renzo's jaw tightened.

"Tell me you didn't call for backup." Renzo snapped.

"I didn't," Glacier mumbled.

Ace smirked, cocking his gun. "Then we've got company."

Out of the fog, Nightshade appeared.

Erica stepped first, black coat sweeping behind her, gun low at her side, eyes like fire that had learned control.

Venetta walked a half-step behind, chewing gum with the kind of confidence that made men nervous, a grin stitched on her lips and a knife glinting in her hand.

The air shifted. Enemies, old as sin.

Erica's gaze met Renzo's, not surprise, not fear, just irritation.

"This place was supposed to be empty," she said, her tone calm, warning.

Renzo's reply was colder. "That's funny. Because it belongs to us."

Ace gave a low whistle. "Small world, huh?"

Venetta's smirk sharpened. "Then maybe you should've built higher fences."

"What are you doing here?" Renzo repeated.

Erica's tone was even, but her eyes flickered. "Following a lead. Ours."

Renzo's stare hardened. "Your lead just ran into my mission."

"Then maybe your mission is trespassing."

The air grew thin, taut with pride.

Neither side wanted this fight - but neither would walk away first.

Before Renzo could speak, Venetta moved - too fast, too reckless.

Her knife sang through the air and buried itself into a Hades mobster's neck.

The mobster fell, choking on his own blood.

It was obvious that she was high.

For a heartbeat, everything froze.

Then chaos erupted.

"Goddammit, Venetta" Erica snapped, but it was too late.

Glacier had already opened fire.

The docks exploded with gunshots, glass, and screams.

Renzo moved like shadow, ducking behind a container and firing back, each shot clean, deliberate.

Glacier handled the rest, ice-cold, empty-eyed, dropping mobsters like dominoes.

Ace? He was smiling - that sick, adrenaline-fed grin - as he charged straight for Venetta.

Venetta met him halfway.

"You're in my way, pretty boy."

"Sweetheart, you wish."

She swung first - knife flashing. Ace blocked, twisted, caught her wrist, and she kicked him square in the ribs. He stumbled, laughed, and threw a punch that barely missed her face.

She ducked, rolled, came up with her blade drawn across his cheek.

Blood welled.

His grin widened. "Now we're talking."

"Keep grinning," she hissed, "I'll cut the rest off."

Across the yard, Renzo found Erica.

The world had narrowed to just the two of them - leaders, equals, mirrors.

"You didn't plan this," Renzo said, voice low as he reloaded.

"No," she answered, ducking behind a crate. "But I'm not walking away either."

They fired almost in sync - two sharp bursts that missed by inches.

When their guns clicked empty, they closed the distance.

Renzo blocked a kick, caught her arm, twisted - she spun, slammed an elbow into his chest.

They broke apart, breathing hard, guns forgotten.

Erica snapped, firing a warning shot near his feet.

Renzo's temper cracked for the first time that night. He charged, grabbed her wrist before she could aim again, and slammed her against a container. Her gun clattered to the ground.

But before he could speak, she twisted, shoved him back, and landed a clean hit to his jaw.

He smirked through the sting.

Behind them, Glacier moved like a machine, efficient, silent, unstoppable. He had turned the fight into massacre.

He moved through the pier like winter itself - no hesitation, no mercy. His bullets dropped Nightshade mobsters one after another, until even Venetta had to pull back to cover.

Venetta rolled behind a crate, reloading her pistol with bloody hands.

Erica crouched beside her, jaw tight.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Erica muttered.

Venetta smirked, even bleeding. "You mean we weren't supposed to find them here."

"Same thing. Mother didn't say shit"

Ace lunged at Venetta again - faster, angrier this time - and they collided, knives and fists and curses.

Their blades locked.

She whispered, close enough for him to feel her breath, "Next time, I'll aim lower."

He grinned through the pain. "Next time, I'll let you."

Renzo grabbed Glacier's arm. "Pull back. We've lost too many."

Glacier's eyes flicked to the bodies - their men, Nightshade's men - sprawled across the ground.

"Not yet," he said flatly. "They came into our job."

Erica heard him. "We didn't come for your job," she shot back. "We came for the same ghost you're chasing."

"We'll finish this another night," she said quietly.

Renzo nodded once. "Count on it."

Venetta spat blood, wiping her mouth. "You better bring flowers to your own funeral."

Ace laughed, clutching his side. "Save me a seat at yours."

"Venetta, pull back." Erica snapped.

Venetta hesitated, glaring at Ace like she wasn't done yet.

"Now," Erica ordered.

Venetta spat blood, holstered her gun, and backed away. "We'll finish this another night."

Ace smirked. "I'll be waiting."

Renzo stepped out from behind cover, gun still in hand but not raised.

Erica met his gaze one last time.

No words. Just that silent promise that this wasn't over.

Then Nightshade vanished into the fog as quickly as they'd come.

The docks were left in ruin. Smoke hung heavy.

Glacier walked among the bodies, checking for survivors.

Renzo looked over the wreckage - bodies on both sides, crates destroyed, blood soaking into the wood.

He exhaled, slow.

"Tonight wasn't supposed to end like this."