The large vessel from Dragon’s Gate Trading was making its way back, laden with cargo from various locations. Onboard, a group of crew members celebrated their successful haul-not of fish, but of valuable goods. Three of them sat together, sipping soda and chatting peacefully about their bounty.
“Can you believe the size of that haul?” one of them said, grinning widely. “We’ve got enough to make Mr. Long very happy.”
“Yeah,” another chimed in, “and the amount of… special goods we picked up is going to earn us some serious praise.”
The third crew member laughed, “I can already see Mr. Long’s face when he sees all this. We’re in for a big reward.”
Their conversation was light and casual, filled with the excitement of their successful journey. Suddenly, the boat came to an abrupt stop.
“What’s happening?” one of them asked, looking around in confusion.
The driver shouted back, “There’s a large boat blocking our way!”
The first crew member frowned, “How could there be a boat on our route? This path is supposed to be private.”
“Exactly,” the second added, “No one should be passing through here at this hour.”
As their boat slowly approached, they saw the massive vessel obstructing their path. Shocked, one of them exclaimed, “It’s a pirate ship!”
They could see countless figures aboard the pirate ship, and a sense of fear gripped them. One of the crew members on the Dragon’s Gate vessel shouted for the others to come out and prepare for a fight.
The pirates began leaping onto their boat, swords drawn, ready for battle. The crew of the Dragon’s Gate vessel, though numerous, found themselves facing a larger and more aggressive force.
The pirates attacked with swift, calculated movements, their swords clashing against the crew’s makeshift weapons. The sound of metal against metal rang out as the two groups engaged in a fierce battle. The deck became a chaotic scene of combat, with crew members trying to fend off the relentless pirate assault.
One pirate swung his sword at a crew member, who barely managed to block the attack with a metal rod. Another pirate lunged forward, knocking a crew member to the ground before being tackled by another defender.
The battle on the Dragon’s Gate vessel intensified as the pirates, fearsome and relentless, picked off the crew members one by one. The deck was a chaotic scene of clashing swords and desperate cries. Despite their efforts, the crew was overwhelmed by the pirates’ ferocity.
One by one, the crew members fell until only one remained, gasping for breath. With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket and fired a flare gun into the sky. The bright flare burst above them, catching the attention of the pirates.
“Calling for help?” one pirate sneered, before driving a blade into the man’s neck, ending his life. “Transfer the cargo,” the pirate leader ordered, and the crew began moving the goods.
…..
….
…
Meanwhile, at the Dragon’s Gate dock, Mr. Long and Julyan were engaged in a casual conversation. “You’ve done excellent work these past few weeks, David,” Mr. Long praised, his tone appreciative.
Julyan, ever humble, nodded, “Thank you, Mr. Long. Just doing my part.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sight of fireworks in the distance. Mr. Long’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Get on another ship and intercept the cargo vessel!” he shouted to his men.
Julyan, feigning curiosity, asked, “What’s happening?”
Mr. Long explained, “That flare gun was fired by someone on the Dragon’s Gate. It means something’s gone wrong.”
Feigning surprise, Julyan inquired, “What could have happened?”
Mr. Long considered the possibilities, “Could be a mechanical failure, a sudden storm, or even an attack. We need to find out.”
Julyan nodded, maintaining his facade of concern. Mr. Long instructed, “Stay here, David. It might be dangerous if you come along.”
As Mr. Long boarded the large ship with his crew, leaving Julyan alone, the vessel set off towards the flare. Once they were out of sight, a chilling smile crept across Julyan’s face. He quickly sent a message through the channel to the three gang bosses, signaling the next phase of his plan.
…..
…
Meanwhile, near the Dragon’s Gate safe house, the three gang bosses were stationed, waiting with anticipation. They were supposed to look like bandits, but instead, they resembled clowns. Baldy glanced around and couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of their men.
“What’s so funny?” asked the single-beard gang boss, raising an eyebrow.
Baldy shook his head, trying to suppress his laughter. “It’s just… Mr. Hawk said to look like bandits, not a circus troupe,” he said, barely containing his amusement.
The gang boss with deep-set eyes turned around and burst into laughter as he pointed at their men one by one. “Look at this one,” he said, pointing to a guy with a bright red nose and mismatched eye shadow. “And that one,” he continued, gesturing to another with exaggerated eyebrows and a crooked mustache. “And don’t even get me started on the one with the glitter beard! He looks like he fell face-first into a craft store.”
He moved on to another, who had somehow managed to apply lipstick not just on his lips but also around them, creating a comical oversized grin. “And this guy,” he said, barely able to speak through his laughter, “looks like he’s auditioning for a horror movie.”
Each description sent him into fits of laughter, and soon the others joined in, their laughter echoing through the area. The bearded boss tried to hold back his laughter but eventually gave in, explaining between chuckles, “I hired a makeup artist, but I guess they misunderstood the assignment.”
Their laughter was a moment of levity amidst their serious mission. Suddenly, a phone chimed. The bearded boss checked it and saw a message from Julyan. He read it aloud, “I’ve taken care of anyone who might come to help.”
Unaware that their target was Dragon’s Gate, the three bosses, still chuckling from their earlier amusement, ordered their men to charge the safe house. The gangsters, looking like a troupe of clowns, advanced together.
As they approached the front of the safe house, they were stopped by two guards. The guards couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before them.
“Hey, I think you guys took a wrong turn,” one guard said, chuckling. “The circus isn’t in town.”
“Or maybe they’re heading to a children’s party,” the other guard added, shaking his head. “Or are they cosplayers?”
Just then, a burly gangster, known for his boxing skills, stepped forward. “Hey, fellas,” he said with a grin, “what do you call a clown with a bad attitude?”
The guards laughed, “We don’t know, what?”
The boxer shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. The answer is my fist. Time to sleep!” With that, he delivered a swift punch, knocking the guards out cold.
The commotion alerted the other guards nearby. As the gangsters and guards clashed, the scene turned into a comedic brawl.
One gangster, pretending to be heartbroken, cried out dramatically, “How could you leave me for another man?” as he slapped a guard repeatedly, who was too confused to react.
Another gangster, with a flair for the dramatic, pretended to faint, only to spring up and tackle a guard, shouting, “Surprise! It’s a sneak attack!”
Amidst the chaos, one gangster started juggling small rocks, tossing them at the guards with surprising accuracy, while another pretended to be a mime, mimicking the guards’ movements before tripping them up.
The chaotic and comedic brawl continued as the gangsters, with their clown-like appearance, took on the guards with a mix of humor and unexpected tactics.
One gangster, with a flair for the dramatic, pretended to be a matador, waving an imaginary cape and taunting a guard, “Ole!” before sidestepping and tripping him.
Another gangster, channeling his inner dancer, started doing a cha-cha, confusing a guard who tried to keep up, only to be spun around and gently pushed to the ground.
A particularly creative gangster pulled out a rubber chicken, ‘I do not know where he got this from’, using it as a distraction. “Look, it’s dinner time!” he shouted, tossing it at a guard who instinctively caught it, only to be tackled by another gangster.
As the guards were gradually overwhelmed by the gangsters’ antics, one particularly flamboyant gangster struck a pose, hand on hip, and declared, “You can’t handle our fabulous powers!”
The remaining guards, bewildered and outmatched by the sheer absurdity of the situation, were soon subdued. The gangsters, victorious, gathered together and struck a final pose, arms in the air, shouting, “You can’t handle the powers of the fabulous!”
Realizing they had cleared the way, they quickly snapped out of their playful demeanor and focused on their mission. With a newfound seriousness, they entered the safe house, ready to seize the treasures within.