Chapter 26 Victor Weasel
\[Victor's POV\]
I stared at the large screen before my eyes, its blue glow washing over my dimly lit office. The display flickered softly as a massive digital map stabilized into full clarity, a sprawling layout of the United States, riddled with intricate lines, grids, and pulsing markers. Some of those markers were circled in bold red ink. Each red circle represented a coordinate, territories belonging to the Blade Clan. The biggest Mafia group in the entire country.
I zoomed in, watching the screen shift smoothly. Their turf stretched across multiple states, their influence bleeding into cities where government agencies pretended to maintain law and order. But everyone, every real player in the underground world knew the truth. The Blade Clan wasn’t just the biggest Mafia group in the USA. Their power extended globally. They had more branches than some international corporations. And they had some of the most powerful quirk users alive.
That was why the government always turned a blind eye. They chased smaller Mafia groups, groups scraping for scraps, or hustling lightly to stay alive. But the Blades? No. No one touched them. No one dared. Not unless they wanted their entire bloodline wiped off the map in a single night.
My eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the largest red circle, pulsing like a heartbeat on the screen.
“Well…” I muttered under my breath, leaning back in my squeaky chair. “Quite the empire.”
My name is Victor Weasel, the one and only leader of Blackjack. Compared to them, my group was smaller. Compared to them, I wasn’t born into a Mafia family. I wasn’t trained since childhood to stab, shoot, or manipulate.
I was a tech guru.
Or rather, I used to be.
My quirk, Tech Resonance, gave me the ability to merge, hack, integrate, and even clone any piece of technology I touched. It wasn’t one of the most overpowered quirk in the world, and it had its limitations. I couldn’t manipulate living things. I couldn’t merge tech that was protected. And I needed physical contact for deeper hacks.
But what made me dangerous… what put me on the map… wasn’t just the quirk.
It was my mind.
My natural intelligence, combined with my quirk’s ability to run advanced algorithms through any device I linked with, made me exceptional at predicting outcomes. I could forecast patterns others didn’t even notice. Stock markets, digital trends, human behavior, crime patterns, political shifts, you name it. I could calculate probabilities faster than most supercomputers.
That was how I rose so fast in the tech industry. How I made money. How I gained influence. And how I earned enemies.
Enemies who framed me.
One scandal. One fabricated investigation. One rigged report. That was all it took. My reputation was ruined, investors fled, and in less than two weeks, I went from a rising star to a cautionary tale.
My rivals had orchestrated everything.
But that’s life, I guess. And life can be surprisingly ironic sometimes. Because during that lowest point, when I was drowning in debt, lawsuits, and depression, I met someone. A friend. A man who happened to be part of a Mafia group. He introduced me to a different world, one where my quirk wasn’t a liability, but an asset. One where my intelligence wasn’t something to suppress, but something to weaponize.
Long story short, that was how I climbed up the ladder and became a Mafia leader myself. Blackjack wasn’t born from bloodlines or tradition. It was born from strategy. From precision. From intelligence.
And unlike most Mafia clans that relied heavily on illicit drugs or gambling as their main business, I went a different route. I started manufacturing and selling banned weapons underground. Weapons the government refused to approve. Weapons that were too dangerous to be legal but too valuable to be ignored.
Buyers came from everywhere, other clans, rogue vigilantes, corrupt police officers, overseas clients. And like that, money poured in like a river.
At first, I thought that was all I needed. I didn’t want to get tangled up in gang wars or turf battles. But the deeper I went, the more I realized something important.
In the Mafia world, expansion wasn’t optional.
It was survival.
You either grew… or you were crushed.
So now, as I stared at the glowing map of Blade Clan territories, it was clear that I had only one significant obstacle in my path.
The Blade Clan.
Suddenly, the door to my shabby office creaked open, snapping me out of my thoughts. The faint smell of cigarette smoke drifted in before I even saw the person behind it.
One of my men, Hexter, stepped inside, holding a thick folder in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His hair was messy, his shirt wrinkled, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in two days. Pretty standard for him, honestly.
He blew a cloud of smoke into the air and said, “Boss… I’ve done what you asked me to do.”
My back straightened immediately, interest sparking through me. “That fast?”
Hexter smirked smugly and dropped the folder onto my desk. “I told you I don’t disappoint.”
I grabbed the folder quickly, the paper still warm as if it had just been printed. I opened it and the very first page was a photograph. A high-quality image of a handsome young man.
Brown hair. Brown eyes. Strong jawline. Sharp gaze. Athletic build. The picture looked almost like a modeling headshot, except the confidence in the guy’s eyes was too deadly and too cold like that of a killer.
“So this is Rudy Blade,” I muttered under my breath. “The current strongest member of the Blade Clan… adopted by Adam Blade.”
I clicked my tongue. “Fascinating.”
I wasn’t easily impressed, but something about the kid, no, the man, in the photo radiated danger. He was the type who could either destroy you or become your greatest asset.
Hexter leaned closer. “He’s been making waves recently. Took down an entire gang on his own last week.”
“I know,” I murmured, still studying the picture.
I held the image for a few more seconds before reaching out and snatching the cigarette from Hexter’s fingers.
He blinked. “Huh? Boss—”
I ignored him.
I placed the cigarette between my lips and lit it with a lighter lying on my desk. The first breath I exhaled filled the room with warm smoke.
Jexter watched me quietly. I could tell he was waiting for instructions. Waiting to know what my next move would be.
Because now that Rudy Blade’s face was in my hands… the game had officially changed.
I smirked slowly, my eyes narrowing with amusement and anticipation.
“Well then…” I murmured. “Let’s see what makes the Blade Clan’s little prodigy so special.”