Chapter 4: Gangsters

In the Kentley neighborhood, graffiti-covered walls, trash cans overflowing with garbage, and tattooed men lounging against the walls made it abundantly clear what kind of place this was—a slum and a haven for criminals.

Pedestrians passing by on nearby streets not only lowered their voices but also quickened their steps, as if afraid of being associated with this place.

Harry Hill lay comfortably in his boss chair, puffing on a large cigar while counting the cash in his hand. Business had been pretty good lately, and those poor addicts had contributed generously to his profits.

As one of the few bosses in the downtown area, Harry Hill controlled the drug trade on several nearby streets, making him a person of some importance. Although he had to spend quite a bit greasing the palms of those damn cops, the remaining income still made him quite wealthy.

He planned to have a good time with Hettie, that little whore, tonight. Thinking about the sexy woman he'd recently hooked up with, Harry smiled lewdly, feeling a bit excited, and flicked ash from his cigar onto the floor without a care.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"Ah..."

Sudden gunshots and crashes came from outside, accompanied by a few familiar screams—clearly the voices of his subordinates. Startled, Harry fell out of his chair, not even caring about the cigarette that had fallen on his pants and burned a hole.

He hastily grabbed a handgun from a drawer. Could it be that bastard Clive trying to snatch his territory? Did he dare break their agreement?!

As a cautious underworld boss, Harry was greedy and cunning but never overstepped his bounds.

He knew how to play by the rules and never reached into areas like Harlem to the north. Therefore, he didn't have many mortal enemies—only Clive, who had been eyeing his territory for a while. So it was no wonder that Harry had such thoughts.

Cautiously stepping out of the room, he saw the entire door of the outer hall fly off its hinges. The door hurtled through the air and hit one of his unfortunate subordinates, who let out a scream and fell to the ground. Then a hulking figure rushed in.

Without thinking, Harry raised his gun and fired two shots. The bullets hit the large man's body, making him stagger.

"Damn bastard, you're gonna taste my wrath!" Harry thought, his confidence restored.

With a sinister grin, he took a step forward, only to be horrified to see that the hulking figure barely paused after taking his bullets, and then lunged forward even faster. The behemoth's massive fist slammed into another one of Harry's subordinates, sending him sprawling. The sound of bones shattering was unmistakable, and half of the man's face was a bloody pulp, his neck limp and sagging. He was undoubtedly a goner.

Body armor? Or what?!

Harry paled, and fired wildly until his gun was empty. He was certain that most of his bullets hit the brute, including two shots that, by deliberate aim, hit the head. Yet, it seemed to make no difference. Harry was still barreled into, the muscular arm that was as thick as a normal man's thigh sweeping him off his feet.

Shit! Is this guy an elephant or something?... Harry's vision was a blur of stars as if he had been hit by a speeding truck. He didn't know how many ribs he had broken, but he had been thrown against a shelf on the wall and had collapsed to the ground, unable to move.

"No... don't kill me... I know where Harry's money and drugs are... just let me go!"

That damn traitor, Maika... I knew he couldn't be trusted. Harry heard the voice of his trusted subordinate begging for mercy. He tried to get up, but the pain was too much, and his vision went black as he struggled to muster the strength.

It seemed that the intruders had no intention of sparing Maika either. After a scream, the traitor fell silent.

"Heh... hiss..." Harry wanted to laugh out loud but winced in pain as the movement agitated his injuries. He wasn't being tough; he just thought that without a snitch, he might still have a chance to survive.

Lying on the ground, he couldn't see what was happening in the room. After some effort, he managed to turn himself over.

A massive figure stood before him, at least six feet three inches tall, weighing over 200 pounds. His exposed flesh was covered in a dark, armor-like substance, its material unidentifiable. Several bullet holes were visible in the armor, from which oozed some transparent liquid. The bullet holes pulsed like they were alive, and the deformed bullets were being pushed out.

What the fuck is this?!

Now, Harry understood why the intruder was still standing after being shot multiple times. Even more terrifying was the fact that the armor receded, revealing the stern face of a white man.

Is this some kind of monster?... Harry's forehead was slick with cold sweat, and he instinctively shrank back, unsettled by the events of the day.

Had Morris survived, he might have recognized the man before him. Marcus had bulked up significantly, only the area around his eyes retained any trace of the scrawny junkie he used to be.

Marcus glanced at the bullet holes in his coat, frowned, and then crouched down with a sinister smile, his eyes on Harry like a wolf eyeing its prey.

Clang! Another even larger figure appeared in Harry's line of sight, impatiently kicking aside the chair blocking his way, and joined Marcus.

Harry instinctively shrank back under the scrutiny of the two imposing men. He considered himself worldly and had blood on his hands, but he had never encountered anyone like them. Their faces displayed unbridled savagery and ferocity, more terrifying than any desperado he had ever met.

They seemed like two crazed beasts exuding an aura of bloodlust and terror.