Quentin strode into a small tea store at the edges of chinatown, he knew this wasn't where the Jade Leopards main base moved too but it was where Madam Jiang wanted to meet.
Sure enough Kieran was correct and shortly after the Jade Leopards moved bases he received a phone call from Mei Lin requesting this meeting.
As the door chimed signaling his entrance two of his people stayed outside and two more followed Quentin in. That wasn't counting the homeless people around the outskirts, playing their parts to perfection.
Mei-Lin stood near the back of the shop, dressed in work-worn street clothes rather than her armor from the night before. She bowed with crisp precision, palms together.
"Greetings," she said. "Mr. Quentin."
Quentin returned a shallow bow—respectful, but not deferential.
"Mei-Lin."
She stepped aside and gestured with an open hand. "Madam Jiang is ready for you."
The back room of the tea shop was dim, steeped in the scent of roasted oolong and old incense. A single round table sat in the center, with an elderly woman behind it, posture straight as carved stone. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun, her hands folded neatly atop her cane.
Madam Jiang radiated authority—not loud, not aggressive, but the kind that had clearly commanded soldiers long before Falcone ever dared call himself a boss.
Part of him wondered what she did when she was younger, surely this is a learned trait.
"Sit," she said without preamble.
Quentin sat. Mei-Lin remained standing at the matriarch's right side.
A teapot steamed between them. Madam Jiang poured two cups with elegant precision.
"You have caused quite the… shift, Mr. Quentin."
Quentin smiled faintly. "I imagine Falcone caused the real shift. Attacking your people in such a daring way, tends to rearrange the city's balance."
Madam Jiang's eyes sharpened—not anger, but appraisal.
"You sent assistance."
"We responded to a threat," Quentin corrected gently. "A threat that affects us both."
Mei-Lin's gaze flickered at that—subtle approval.
Madam Jiang tapped her cane once. "The outside world believes we are allies now."
"That perception can be fruitful," Quentin said. "If we shape it correctly."
"And dangerous," Madam Jiang countered. "If we let it shape us."
Silence simmered over the table as steam coiled between them.
Finally, Madam Jiang spoke.
"You have built something. Underpass." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "What you've constructed is not a gang. It is… a community some would say you were foolish but I don't think so."
Quentin's lips curved. "A community is always stronger than a gang."
"Yet," she continued, ignoring the interruption, "you understand politics. You understand optics. That makes you useful. Or dangerous. Or both."
Kieran whispered in Quentin's mind' She wants assurance. Not submission. Don't offer anything small.'
Quentin leaned forward slightly.
"Madam Jiang, I don't want subordinates. I don't need puppets. What I want is stability. And Chinatown deserves stability as much as Underpass does. Falcone's attack on the Jade Leopards was reckless. It tells me he sees your people as a stepping stone."
Madam Jiang's fingers tightened around her cane.
A silent acknowledgment.
"So," Quentin continued, "let's ensure he never gets that chance again."
Mei-Lin's eyes widened just a fraction—she wasn't expecting Quentin to put the offer directly on the table.
Madam Jiang studied him for a long, heavy moment.
"What exactly," she said slowly, "are you proposing?"
"A friendship," Quentin said. "Not an alliance of necessity. Not one forced by circumstance. A true friendship. One where we support each other when it matters, without infringing on each other's territory or sovereignty."
"A friendship," she echoed, testing the word.
Quentin nodded. "Underpass grows. The homeless in your territory get medical aid, protection, food. We don't take turf. We don't recruit on your streets. We maintain peace in the fringe zones so your people don't have to waste resources there. In return, the Jade Leopards acknowledge us as neutral partners. Information flows two ways. If Falcone or anyone else targets you again, we'll respond. And if someone targets us…"
"You expect us to respond in kind," Madam Jiang finished.
Quentin shrugged lightly. "Only if it threatens both our futures."
The old matriarch leaned back slowly. The air felt thicker now—weighted with the gravity of her decision.
"You speak with boldness," she said.
"Confidence," Quentin corrected softly. "I assume strength from those who have shown it."
A flicker of amusement ghosted across Madam Jiang's face.
Then she extended her hand.
A gesture heavy with history.
"Then let us be friends," she said.
Quentin clasped her hand, firm but respectful.
"Friends," he agreed.
Mei-Lin bowed deeply, this time with genuine respect.
Madam Jiang added quietly, "This city is changing, Mr. Quentin. You have forced it to. Now let us make sure it changes in a direction that leaves our people alive."
***
Two weeks, to most it isn't a lot of time it's the same amount of time one usually waits to receive a paycheck.
Two weeks in Gotham, can change a lot to bank robbery's and supervillain escapades.
Two weeks during a war can change everything. Once the Jade Leopards and Quentin made a deal trade and information routes expanded and more gangs fell in line.
The five fingers quickly saw the opportunity at hand and joined with Quentin now their underground casinos were blooming into profit once again. Quentin found out safe travel ways to get to their dens and is only taking a small cut.
Across the river, the Deacons thrived quietly.
Their leader, the 'Reverend' Tolliver, had expected violence when they joined Quentin's arrangement.
Instead, they got… order.
Quentin asked nothing from them except one thing:
"Keep your streets calm."
And somehow, that was easier now. With supplies rerouted through the Dogs, people were fed. With Five Fingers money circulating again, the neighborhood economy warmed. With Jade Leopard intel, they knew trouble before it arrived.
Tolliver's second-in-command, Jonah, stood on the church's rooftop and watched families picking through the community pantry—a pantry stocked indirectly by Quentin's trade routes.
He crossed his arms. "Never thought the day'd come when a masked psychopath brought prosperity."
Tolliver softly elbowed him.
"Jonah."
"…alright. A masked eccentric."
And the steel sevens were having a blast their once destitute was now looking up with all of the supply routes running around. But their leader thought things could still be better for them.
Things were good for now.
Great even.
***
In a dark room one man stood anger clear in his eyes, he had been bested far too many times in this war people where now looking down on him.
That needed to change.
"Have they accepted?"
"Yes sir."
"Good."
"Yes very good."