Chapter Seventy: After Taking Over
Section One: Inventory
Dawn hadn't broken, but Rustmouth Fifth Stretch warehouse lights blazed.
Maria pushed the door open, finding Jason at the old wooden table, left shoulder freshly bandaged, right hand holding an unbit cold energy bar.
No greeting, she dropped a stack of files before him.
"Red Gang warehouse resource prelims," she said. "Jian Ci's team checked—seven opened, three still locked."
Jason didn't look at her, eyes on the first page.
It listed three categories: weapon stocks, stored fuel, signal node ownership.
He flipped slowly, as if each line held secrets of where things hid, who wielded them, what could stay.
"Who wrote this?" Jason asked.
Maria: "Tarn drafted, Zhao Mingxuan logged, I verified."
Jason nodded: "The rest?"
Maria hesitated, pulling two sheets from her coat: "Personnel registry—street and warehouse crews, who knows who, who doesn't, all marked."
Jason scanned. First page, one name unsurprising—Lu Ye.
He frowned.
"Didn't he run?"
"He did," Maria said. "Came back two days ago, registered, wants patrol duty. Jian Ci didn't block."
Jason stayed neutral, folding the sheet aside.
He read on, sudden: "Feel like everyone's moving faster than me?"
Maria, unsure, didn't answer.
Jason glanced, calm: "I haven't assigned roles, called names. But they're working."
"Waiting for their reports?" Maria asked.
Jason shook: "No. It's time I respond."
Maria tucked the files, low: "People now don't need your orders—just your nod."
Jason thought, then: "Some I nod to work, but I can't ignore."
He spread the files, eyeing old Red Gang outposts.
"Warehouses to Tarn; street zones, Zhao's split; three signal towers, Jian Ci's men stay."
"Keep registration, but registered get default system response rights."
Maria: "Codes?"
Jason: "Not codes—records."
"Let the system know they're working my street. They mess up, I answer; they do right, someone claims it."
Maria nodded.
Jason tapped a bottom row: "These unregistered?"
"Didn't show. No one's found them," Maria's tone light. "Red Gang's last 'orders-only' holdouts."
Jason boxed the row: "Final notice. By midnight, no show, tag 'non-recallable.'"
"Then?"
"Block them, not their homes," Jason's voice chilled. "If others want their houses, let them."
Maria: "Clear."
Footsteps outside—Tarn entered, holding a small metal box.
"Checked Fifth Stretch mouth," he said. "Found this at a well."
Jason opened it—a rusty Red Gang hall comms key chip.
He stared, silent seconds, setting it down, soft: "They still dream of coming back."
"They?" Maria asked.
"Key-holders," Jason didn't look up. "Pity they don't know—this door's lock changed."
He stood, stretching, bandage seeping faint red.
Tarn frowned: "Wound's not healed. Rest it."
Jason grabbed the files, walking: "Healed or not, today I start naming."
Outside, dawn's first light crept. Fifth Warehouse lamps glowed, a child kicked a can past.
Jason glanced at the roster.
"After today," he said, "who's listed lives."
"Who's not—don't blame me for not seeing them."
Section Two: Assignments
Main control outpost, second-floor warehouse, wind through broken windows tearing a corner of an unchanged Red Gang flag.
Jason stood at a whiteboard, left hand clipping a pen, right nudging a transparent data film.
No system auto-layout—he hand-drew a grid, splitting Rustmouth into five zones.
Tarn sat by the door, copying his strokes; Maria leaned by the window, flipping the roster; Zhao Mingxuan, headband on, tuned signal layers.
No one asked why the split.
Jason didn't explain.
After the fifth point, he spoke.
"Each zone, two roles: one for streets, one for systems."
"Street-watchers patrol, show face daily."
"System-watchers handle data logs, resource shifts, no street chatter."
Tarn looked up: "Not standard teamwork."
Jason glanced: "Want ranks?"
Tarn shook: "No. They'll ask."
Jason: "Ask if they want work or titles."
Maria chuckled, spreading the roster.
"Sorted former Red Gang—three types: fifty-seven willing workers, twelve ex-enforcers, seven signal fringe mixers."
Jason nodded: "Twelve enforcers, pick four I know by name."
Maria flipped: "Reese Laine, Grant Myles, Theo Vance, Lin Mora."
Jason: "Theo Vance, five minutes late to report?"
Tarn: "Yeah, ran in himself, brought two kids."
Jason: "Log him."
"Split these four to First, Third, Fourth, Fifth—two days each. If they slip, I pull them."
Zhao Mingxuan stood: "Second?"
Jason: "I'll walk it."
"You shouldn't move," Zhao Mingxuan said. "Your wound."
Jason looked, silent.
Maria cut in: "Pair you?"
Jason shook: "I'll scout. Second's old Red Gang core—I need to see how it runs."
Zhao Mingxuan didn't push.
Jason turned: "You lead signal control, log all task points, signal jams, even my steps."
"I want this street to trace me without asking my will."
Zhao Mingxuan nodded.
He got it—not show, but tracks.
Jian Ci pushed in, silent, blood specks from last night, no blade, tossing an old signal terminal on the table.
Jason glanced: "Yours?"
"They dropped it," Jian Ci's tone sharp. "Chased two streets, grabbed this. Your name, Red Gang's old order format."
Maria's brow rose: "Still using that?"
"Damn right," Jian Ci snapped. "Don't claim them, they wave your flag."
Jason stayed quiet, flipping the terminal, seeing a scratch on the back—hall master's mark.
He smoothed it, low: "They don't want back—they doubt the street's changed hands."
Tarn: "What's the play?"
Jason, calm: "Nothing."
He passed the terminal to Zhao Mingxuan: "Seal it. Don't trace sender, count, or spread."
"Let the street learn—without my orders, don't move."
Jian Ci lingered, sudden: "Where'm I slotted?"
Jason didn't answer, asking: "Where do you want?"
Jian Ci's brow twitched: "Fake question."
Jason: "I don't slot you. Move when you want, act when you need, but hear this—if the street's hit again, I won't wait for your save."
Jian Ci, three seconds: "I'm not here to save you."
Jason: "I know."
Jian Ci nodded: "Fine."
He left, not glancing at the map.
Zhao Mingxuan shook his head, smiling: "Guy can't say one smooth thing."
Jason didn't laugh, writing at the map's corner:
Jian Ci × No Zone Assignment × Default Response
Maria glanced: "Your new system?"
Jason: "No system—get the work done first."
Section Three: Handling
Outside, fog lingered, the old Red Gang hall's "South Blade War Council" metal sign, torn by Tarn, dumped in scrap.
The building stood, people too.
Jason entered, finding Qing on a sagging gray sofa, hands on knees, staring floor, motionless.
Unshackled, unguarded.
He could leave. He didn't.
Jason stood before him, not sitting, staring seconds.
Qing looked up, eyes shadowed, stubble thick, sleepless nights.
"You're here," he said.
Jason didn't bite, asking: "You yield?"
Qing didn't move, two seconds: "Don't want to say."
Jason nodded: "Then I'll take it as no."
He pulled a sheet from a metal case, handing it: "Red Gang halls, warehouses, zones—system-cleared this morning."
Qing scanned half, didn't flip, set it on his lap.
Jason continued: "No Qing, no points you control. Not my cut—the system logged it."
"Your street's not yours."
"But you're here."
Qing: "You fear me?"
Jason smiled faintly: "You're not a threat—a reminder."
Qing didn't get it.
Jason, flat: "You stay to show someone sat here, lost."
"I won't drive you, but you can't call men. You're a symbol. Want them to remember your loss, don't stir."
Qing nodded, no rebuttal.
Jason's last: "You can watch, not speak."
He left.
Door unlocked, no one glanced back.
—
Elsewhere, Wei Ran sat in the main warehouse's second-floor backup monitor room.
Unmuted, unsystem-locked, with ARGUS's lowest read-write access, all dispatch orders needing Jason's manual nod.
He knew this state: "visible, uncommanding."
Jason entered, Wei Ran at the console, left hand flipping early Red Gang street data.
He didn't rise, glancing faintly.
"Deleting my file?"
Jason set a new data pad before him.
"Not deleting," Jason said. "New interface."
Wei Ran: "Pointless without power."
Jason: "You don't want to dispatch—you want how this street runs."
"Want to see, see well. I keep you, not for use, but so you know you'll never touch a key again."
Wei Ran eyed the pad, lips twitching: "You see clear."
Jason, turning: "Clear sight's your ticket. Not my gift—you sit, understand, you stay."
Door shut, system prompted:
[Wei Ran · Status: Command Rights Frozen × Read-Write Structure-Only × Action Level: Static Variable]
Jason swiped, changing "Variable" to "Observer."
—
Back at main control, daylight broke.
Tarn handed Jason hot water, Zhao Mingxuan awaited roster sign-off, Maria reported tower repairs low.
Jian Ci absent, Chen Lei cleaned last night's weapon crate in a corner.
Jason pinned a record to the whiteboard, eyeing all: "Qing, Wei Ran—status unchanged, unassigned, uncleared."
"They sit to remind—you don't need to be mine, but know where you are, what you do."
No objections.
Maria looked up: "When do we build your system?"
Jason eyed her: "Not yet."
"Street doesn't lack orders—it lacks people knowing who to hear."
Section Four: Building
Upstairs meeting broke, wind rose outside main control, sky gray-white.
Jason lingered, watching street folk from the window—early movers hauling crates, fixing lines, sipping hot drinks on steps.
Tarn: "Street's quieting."
Jason didn't answer, tapping the sill, turning to Zhao Mingxuan: "System auto-ID last night's actors?"
Zhao Mingxuan nodded: "Jian Ci, Chen Lei, Alice—signals logged. Node binding?"
Jason didn't reply, sitting, tapping the table.
"I don't claim them," he said. "No organization."
"But if the street's hit again—"
He paused.
"I can't always hold it alone."
Zhao Mingxuan, quiet: "How to set it?"
Jason: "Build a 'default response mechanism.'"
"Bind three. No tasks, no rights unless I'm offline over thirty seconds—then they're first responders."
Tarn frowned: "Bodyguards?"
Jason glanced: "Want a name to sell trust? Or work done?"
Tarn shut up.
Zhao Mingxuan: "Doable. I'll tag it 'street control side-branch,' buried in system base, off main roster."
Jason: "Add—'mechanism unaffected by main control, triggered by human judgment.'"
Zhao Mingxuan grinned: "Telling them you trust their moves over your orders?"
Jason didn't answer.
Jian Ci pushed in, short knife fresh-fixed, sheath dusted.
"What's the talk?"
Tarn smirked: "He set a system—you move without asking now."
Jian Ci's brow rose: "Never asked before."
Jason: "Your blade's for me or this street now, not you—needs a reason."
Jian Ci snorted, tossing the knife on the table, slumping against the wall.
"If I was for you, I wouldn't move. Street's not that fun either."
Jason: "Then why come?"
Jian Ci didn't answer.
Jason: "Default response it is. Your next cut's not personal—system won't log 'unauthorized.'"
Jian Ci stared three seconds, cold: "Sounds like you're ID'ing me."
Jason: "I'm giving you duty."
Jian Ci didn't reply, wiping his blade.
Chen Lei entered, straight to the table, one question: "Me?"
Jason: "You're already on."
Chen Lei nodded, no fight, no humility, turning, pausing: "I don't cover the whole street."
Jason: "Cover what you see."
Chen Lei left.
Alice didn't show.
Zhao Mingxuan's terminal pinged:
[Fringe Observer Node · ID: A-V · Position Shifts: Every 10 Minutes · Accuracy 95%]
Jason glanced: "She's watching the edge."
Zhao Mingxuan: "Add her to the mechanism?"
Jason: "Don't tell her."
"She moves, she's claimed it."
Zhao Mingxuan tagged, Jian Ci quipped: "You're good at roping."
Jason, flat: "I don't rope—I see who's still around."
Jian Ci stared, low: "You're not alone anymore."
Jason didn't answer.
The system's mechanism prompt activated:
[Rustmouth Ad Hoc Response Mechanism · Code W-3]
[Bound: Jian Ci, Chen Lei, A-V]
[Trigger: Main Control Offline >30 Seconds or Three Unauthorized Conflicts in Zone]
[Mechanism Bypasses Main Control Approval]
[Interpretation Held by Street Control System Implicitly]
—
Jason eyed the line, soft: "I never asked their save, but they stood by me. Now, they're here."
Section Five: Next Steps
Sun rose.
Rustmouth early market edge, first carts creaked from Fourth Stretch corner.
Jason leaned on the second-floor platform's rail, clutching the control pad, screen idle.
Jian Ci, Chen Lei, Alice's signals blinked as "immediate response nodes," faint blue on the map.
Zhao Mingxuan joined: "Mechanism live, response group tagged 'auxiliary nodes' in ARGUS, no main control conflict."
Jason didn't move, silent, then: "We've taken over?"
Zhao Mingxuan thought: "Yes."
Jason nodded: "People placed, lines set, names listed, cuts made."
Soft: "This street's mine now."
Zhao Mingxuan: "Name it? Else outsiders won't know your faction."
Jason didn't answer, eyeing the map.
System prompted:
[Tag Rustmouth as: Current Main Control · Default Territory · Suggest Street Code?]
Jason closed it, pocketing the pad.
"Names aren't for now," he said. "First, I need—where to move the first piece."
Tarn climbed up, new report in hand: "Three rumors post-last night, spreading."
Jason scanned:
"Jason hit, didn't die, held alone; Jian Ci, Chen Lei, Alice fought beside." "Red Gang halls shut, Qing, Wei Ran stay, silent." Shortest, widest: "Rustmouth's changed hands."
Jason read, faint smile: "Street talks faster than we move."
Tarn: "Need a next plan soon."
Jason: "Can't wait for trouble to react."
"Next—not signals, but men to other street mouths."
"Not just Rustmouth. It's stable—outside won't be."
He turned east, Fogfight Ward, a distant high-rise like a tilted target.
"Next," Jason said, "we step out."
Zhao Mingxuan, behind: "Tell them?"
Jason, no turn: "If they read this street's rhythm, they'll ask me themselves."