Chapter 5 - The War at the Gate
The blizzard raged across the Chicago skyline as a convoy of dark SUVs slammed through the outer wooden barriers of the Mercer estate estate road.
Crosby Vane stepped out of the lead vehicle, holding a heavy assault rifle. He was a ruthless, scarred man who had clawed his way up from the gutters of the city. He believed power was taken through absolute brutality, and tonight, he believed Lawson Mercer was a broken man mourning his dying twins.
"Spread out!" Crosby roared to his men over the howling wind. "Blow the main gates! Burn the mansion to the ground! Leave no one alive!"
Ten of Crosby's mercenaries rushed forward with explosive charges, setting them against the reinforced iron gates.
BOOM!
The massive gates splintered open in a shower of sparks and twisted metal. Crosby’s men surged into the long, snow-covered driveway, shouting and raising their weapons.
Suddenly, the floodlights along the driveway flickered off, plunging the entire estate into pitch-black darkness.
"Thermal scopes on!" Crosby ordered, pulling down his night-vision goggles.
But before his men could activate their gear, the snow-covered ground beneath their feet seemed to explode.
Lawson Mercer’s defense forces—hidden in concealed underground bunkers along the driveway—opened fire with synchronized precision. The night air tore open with the deafening roar of gunfire. Crosby's front line crumpled instantly in the snow.
From the roof of the main mansion, a single spotlight clicked on, beaming directly down onto Crosby Vane.
Standing on the high stone balcony above the entrance, framed by the falling snow and the dark winter sky, stood Lawson Mercer. He wore no tactical armor—just his dark black suit, his white shirt open at the collar, showing the intricate mafia tattoos spanning across his chest and neck. He held a custom silver revolver in his right hand.
"Crosby!" Lawson’s voice boomed across the courtyard, carrying over the gunfire like a thunderclap. "You came to my home. You targeted my children!"
Crosby raised his rifle toward the balcony, his face contorted in rage. "Your time is over, Mercer! You’re soft! You’re weak!"
Lawson didn't jump or dodge. He simply pulled a small remote trigger from his pocket and pressed it.
The ground directly beneath Crosby’s remaining vehicles erupted in a series of controlled detonations, flipping the SUVs into the air and scattering his forces in complete chaos.
Lawson descended the grand front steps of his mansion like an unstoppable force of nature. His security detail moved in a tight tactical diamond around him, cutting down any mercenary who dared raise a gun.
Crosby scrambled out from behind a burning wreck, covered in ash and blood, aiming his sidearm directly at Lawson's chest.
"Die, Mercer!" Crosby screamed.
Lawson didn't even slow his step. He raised his silver revolver with effortless grace.
BANG.
The bullet struck Crosby’s shoulder, shattering the bone and sending his gun flying into the snow. Crosby collapsed to his knees, clutching his ruined arm, gasping for air as Lawson walked up to him.
Lawson stopped two inches from the kneeling mafia boss. The snow around them was stained crimson. The gunfire across the estate was already dying down as Lawson's men finished neutralizing the remaining attackers.
"You tried to use poison because you were too coward to face me in the open," Lawson said, looking down at Crosby with absolute disdain. "You tried to kill two six-year-old angels."
"Lawson... please..." Crosby begged, his tough exterior instantly vanishing into sniveling terror. "We can make a deal! Half my territory! All my money!"
Lawson raised his revolver, pointing it directly between Crosby’s eyes.
"My children's laughter," Lawson whispered, "is worth more than your entire existence."
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BANG.
The sound echoed off the stone walls of the mansion and dissolved into the quiet falling snow.
