Inside the room, a long table was occupied by eight individuals, who currently held the highest authority within the gang following the recent events involving Damien unexpected death.
"Damn it, the other gangs want us to give up a part of our territory .If Damien was still alive they wont dare talk to us like this..." one man, a bald individual with a tattoo on his neck, slammed his hand on the table in frustration.
Damien and he were really close friends, almost like brothers.
They had been buddies long before Damien became the leader of their gang. He wanted to seek revenge for him, but they had more important problems to deal with. His territory was mostly located near the borders of other rival gangs, so he was right at the center of all the action.
"Calm yourself, Bonseng," another person spoke, his voice carrying the weight of age as his gazed landed on everyone.
He appeared to be in his seventies , a seasoned leader who had once handpicked Damien to lead the gang. In truth, he had been the one pulling the strings from the shadows, managing everything from behind the scenes.
"I'm still here. I might be old, but I can still handle this organization ," he added, his words aimed at boosting the confidence of those in the room.
"Thank you, Old Leader."
"Thank you, Old Leader."
"Thank you, Old Leader."
"Thank you, Old Leader."
In unison, everyone in the room bowed their heads.
This man deserved every ounce of respect, for he was the one who had originally founded the this group.
While he may not have been as forceful and domineering as Damien, he was more calculated and cautious. With him taking the reins again, they were confident that their gang would remain unscathed for the time being.
However, not everyone in the room was pleased with this turn of events. Some had been vying for leadership themselves, and this scenario was far from favorable for them.
They had been diligently working to increase their authority within the gang. Some had even plotted to take out Damien themselves in the future.
Intense pain gripped their stomachs, and a sense of dread settled over the room.
"Oh, my stomach hurts so much! We need to get to the hospital!"
"Someone poisoned our food!"
They were all writhing in pain, feeling their insides deteriorate with each passing second. They begged to be taken to the hospital, but it was already too late. The poison was so strong that only a God could save them now.
In a matter of seconds, what had been a peaceful lunch scene turned into a horrifying movie. The table was drenched in blood, and those who had been poisoned succumbed rapidly to the deadly effect of the toxin.
Now, they lay lifeless, scattered across the table and the floor, their lives extinguished just like that.
"Elder, we must leave this place," urged the guards standing behind the elderly leader, helping him stand up.
They were trained to protect him, so they quickly drew their guns and got ready for any potential confrontation.
"This is an inside job. Trust no one. kill anyone who dares to get close to us," he commanded. .
"Yes, boss," the five guards nodded.
As they walked out of the room, their anticipation became reality, with a sudden and fierce attack by a gangster holding a knife.
"Save your bullets; I'll handle this," declared one of the guards, a battle-hardened ex-soldier. He lunged at an attacker, wrestling the knife from the enemy's grip, and swiftly delivered a decisive strike to the assailant's neck.
Blood oozed as the guard pull out the knife.
Meanwhile, two more attacker attempted to stab him, but his combat ability was evident. With swift and precise movements, he disarmed and stab them, making it seem almost effortless.
"You thugs can't touch me," His cocky, self-assured expression said it all.
As an ex-special forces soldier, he wore his pride like armor, sneering with a sense of superiority that suggested he considered these gangster mere amateurs.