Once they realized it was a trap, they took off through Central Park. They thought they had found a young woman walking through the park alone at night but were surprised when their target performed an acrobatic kick that put one of their largest members on his back. Before they could react, they were quickly surrounded by young men wearing black Chinese fighting gis with knight logos on the back. They recognized the uniforms as belonging to the Metro Knights, the crime fighting group inspired by the second Cavalier. Their target smiled and removed her coat, displaying an identical gi. “Looks like you guys are SOL,” Emily Koboshi said with a smile, “What will the comments section say about this?”

The Laughing Boys retreated through the bushes and tried to flee the park. The camera man stopped streaming in fear of being considered beta, as was often the case when groups were beaten or arrested during a “Laugh Riot”. They raced toward a clearing of trees in hopes of escape but a figure dropped down, cutting them off.

Paul Kwon landed on the grass, wearing a Metro Knight gi as well, “I hope you boys are done running,” he said as he slapped his knee a bit, “I’m getting too old to chase young people across the city.”

“Yeah, about that…,” the leader of this particular group swung a tire iron at Paul who immediately ducked, trapped the arm and dislocated the shoulder with a twist. The leader cried out in pain and stepped back, clutching his shoulder; meanwhile, the rest of his cronies had been intimidated into submission. Emily and the other Knights had arrived by then, which Paul noted, “Emily, would you mind putting his shoulder back where it belongs?” “Sure,” Emily wrapped one arm around the man while he was hunched over, then used her other hand to press against the shoulder blade, popping it back in place and eliciting another cry of pain. “You’ll be fine,” Emily assured him and took her place next to Paul.

“If you boys would like to remove your masks, we can move on to the next part,” Paul told them as Emily readied her phone. The Laughing Boys reluctantly removed their smiley face masks and Emily began taking pictures. “We’ll be sending your handsome faces to the NYPD,” Paul announced, “They’ll decide what to do with you next. Remember, we never wanted a fight. We just wanted you to do better.”

The next day, Paul and Emily oversaw a wushu martial arts class held at a YMCA in the Bronx. One of Paul’s Knights, David Tyrell, ran the class, which was mostly comprised of teenagers who had been in trouble with law enforcement with the purpose of teaching them discipline and respect. One of the most recent additions to the class was a young boy named DJ. DJ was wealthier than the other students in the class, having been born to ad execs in Greenwich Village. DJ found the Laughing Boys community online, like many teens his age, and began frequenting their forums and social media groups. Soon after that, he agreed to come along on a Laugh Riot but the group ran into the Metro Knights and Paul gave the young man a chance at redemption since he hadn’t hurt anyone yet.

“How’s class?,” Paul asked DJ after his session was over.

“It’s actually kinda fun,” DJ flexed his muscle, “I’m getting jacked so I should have a lot of value with girls.”

“That’s not why you’re here,” Emily thumped him lightly on his chest.

“I know, I know,… but still. Like, girls like guys who’re jacked and rich, right?”

“Some people think that stuff is important,” Paul gave him a stern look, “Stay away from shallow people. Stick with people of substance.”

“Mr. Kwon, why is he even here?,” a young girl named Yolanda called out as she began to leave alongside some of the other students, “He was a Laughing Boy.”

“And you tried to set fire to your school’s restroom,” Emily reminded her, “The past stays in the past, Yolanda.”

“…We look ahead, I know,” she rolled her eyes and left with her classmates.

“So… Yeah, a lot of people have been giving me shit,” DJ shrugged, “I guess I deserve it.”

“Remember, I know what it’s like to be angry, insecure and afraid,” Paul told him, “When I was a kid, I kept trying to prove myself in all the wrong ways. I was given a second chance a long time ago and that’s what Metro Knights is all about: second chances. The other kids will come around.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kwon,” DJ gave him and Emily fist-bumps and left the building.

He made his way to the corner to contact an Uber. It was dusk now so it was still light enough to see but the setting sun cast long shadows. One such shadow fell over his phone’s screen after opening it. When he looked up, he found a set of familiar smiley face masks.

“Hey, DJ,” the head Laughing Boy said menacingly. At least, DJ assumed he was the leader. There was no set hierarchy in the group or even a membership roster; considering the anonymity of the internet, not even the Laughing Boys truly knew how many of them there were. A few of them, however, knew DJ even if he didn’t know them. “You think we wouldn’t be able to dox your ass once you started simp’n?,” the masked man said, “Bro, you seriously joined the Metro Knights?”

DJ had no idea who these men were or what their intentions were. He began looking around the street to see if Paul or Emily were around but they were nowhere to be seen. “Who you looking for out there, bro?,” the man continued, “Ain’t no body gonna help you out there.” “I don’t want trouble,” he told them meekly and the leader scoffed and began to reach into his jacket. DJ was somewhat relieved when he saw the group of men crossing the street in their direction, even if they didn’t appear any friendlier.

“Hola, chicos,” one of the men called out mockingly, “¿Qué es tan gracioso?”. The leader spun around angrily and pointed a finger at the advancing young men, “Shut up and go back to-”. The firearms were already pulled by the time he got halfway through the sentence and the ensuing shots ripped through him and his gang members. DJ himself had little time to respond as a bullet found its way into his forehead. The shots were quick and professional, killing the boys almost immediately. Mano put his gun away and stood over the bodies to make sure they were dead while his men covered him. Once satisfied, he looked up at the few gawkers on the block, “Don’t worry about these assholes,” he shouted to them, “The good people of Costa Triste are making sure they won’t hurt you again. You need help, you come see us!”

Michael was preparing for his date when he got an alert on his armor’s helmet through the Dragon’s computer system (he hoped his father wasn’t in the Castle at the time to hear his voice). “We got a problem in the Bronx, Cav,” Commissioner Reins told him, “Some goons shot up some Laughing Boys. Witnesses say it was the Costa Tristans.” The name was familiar. It had been months since he faced off against Nadie’s organization and was nearly killed in a fight with Mano. He wasn’t sure this group of Costa Tristans were connected to Nadie’s organization but there was a part of him that wished it were. He was never comfortable about how his previous mission ended and wanted to ensure they were brought to justice this time. Unfortunately, it also meant cancelling his date. Michael sighed to himself and quickly sent a text to Terry to postpone, using a flimsy excuse, then suited up. He hoped Terry wouldn’t feel ghosted.

That night, he met both Reins and Paul Kwon at the scene of the homicide, the bodies of the teenage boys covered on the street. “I wanted an end to this Laughing Boy bullshit but not like this,” Reins told the two men.

“DJ was on the right track,” Paul said sadly, “He was confused by a lot of things but he was a good kid that got mixed up in some stupid hate group.”

“The Laughing Boys were the target of this hit. If DJ was trying to get away from them, why was he killed?,” Michael asked.

“The Costa Tristens apparently don’t give a shit if you’re a current or former member,” Reins took a drag from his cigarette, “They want to make a big show that they’re taking these people out permanently. It’s a power play.”

“If the Costa Tristens are working for who we think they’re working for, it’s an international cartel. Why go after psychos from the internet? They’re not competition.”

“The Laughing Boys have targeted mostly young women so far,” Paul spoke up, “A lot of them were women of color or from lower income families. There are a lot of people in this area who want to see them dead more than they want to see them brought to justice. If the Costa Tristans gain their loyalty, they can exploit them and take control of the neighborhoods.”

“Exactly,” Reins pointed towards Paul, “There are a lot of crime rings that either run in or through these neighborhoods. They can own a ton of business without going to war or even getting directly involved.”

In another part of the city, Emily Koboshi faced off against a young man with a smiley face mask and a kitchen knife. She caught his wrist, plunged her foot against the back of his knee to bring him to the pavement, then twisted the wrist to remove the weapon. Two Metro Knights began restraining him with zip-ties while Emily helped hold him, “A kitchen knife? Seriously? I’m not sure if you were trying to kill me or make dinner.” Emily took his mask and began recording him when a group of young women began shouting at them from across the street.

“Ya’ll calling the cops?,” one them yelled, “The Costa Tristans hold shit down! All you people is fight `im, then turn them over to the cops so they can be on the street again!” Emily looked at her with a confused expression as a few more people joined in at jeering at them. Trash was thrown. The call for blood was apparent. Loyalty had shifted.