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Dimensional Trader in Marvel

One day, after waking up from a dream, Josh found himself transported from the 21st century to Chicago in 1943, transformed into a poor young boy wandering the streets. World War II? For Josh, who hadn't yet reached adulthood, it seemed too far away. As an orphan, the most important thing for him was figuring out how to survive in this era. Fortunately, he had a dimensional trading system, and in this time, being a space-time trader seemed like it could provide a comfortable life. However, a few months later, just as his life started to improve, Josh stared in silence at the stage of a war charity performance, where Captain America was singing and dancing with a group of girls. It's over. He was doomed. This place was actually the Marvel Universe! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Patreon : patreon.com/AHumanMadeMOFO If you want to support and read ahead, there are already 25+ chapters available. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- NOTE: THIS IS A TRANSLATION AND I DON'T OWN THE BOOK BESIDE THE TRANSLATED CONTENT ITSELF. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Original Name: 美漫位面交易器 Author: 星际大灰尘

AHumanMadeMOFO · Derivados de obras
Sin suficientes valoraciones
19 Chs

Chapter 19: Ten Thousand Dollars

Taking a 10 Day Break.

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"Sir, are you looking for me?" In the luxurious private room of the Brothel, a bruised and battered Joe cautiously looked over at Tony Windis, who was held in the arms of two beautiful women.

In fact, the one being beaten up in the alley outside was none other than Joe Barbaro, who had earlier stolen Josh's car.

At this point, two days had passed since the deadline set by Mafia boss Scappa.

During those two days, Joe had not been completely idle.

He had planned a bank robbery.

It was the quickest way he could think of to raise money.

However, robbing a bank was not an easy task.

It had not been many years since the end of the Great Depression.

The Chicago police, who had been through that chaotic period, were well prepared in terms of firepower.

While they did not use submachine guns and automatic weapons, shotguns and rifles were standard in every patrol car. As anyone who has seen John Dillinger's "Public Enemy" knows, trying to rob a bank without four or five accomplices, sufficient firepower, and a getaway car was essentially a death sentence.

Besides, it wasn't just the police; most bank security guards were also armed with shotguns.

What did Joe have? Other than an M1911, he had nothing.

Of course, he could steal a car; he had done it many times in the past to make some extra cash, and he was familiar with it.

But guns and manpower were different. Good weapons had to be bought with real money, and reliable manpower was needed.

These preparations could not be made in a short time; it would take a considerable amount of time to prepare.

There were certainly people who acted rashly and walked into a bank with a gun, but 99% of them ended up dead in the street.

Joe's goal was to get money, not end up dead.

So he could not act rashly.

Today he had come to the West Side to find an old friend, hoping to persuade him to join him.

However, as soon as he mentioned it, his friend flatly refused because he had just gotten involved with the Irish gang and found a nice source of income. It was not very profitable, but it was low risk.

Given the situation, he certainly didn't want to risk everything to rob a bank with Joe.

He rudely kicked Joe out.

They had only hung out on the street together when they were both poor, so they didn't have a strong bond and naturally wouldn't give Joe much face.

The rejection left Joe very depressed, and he wandered aimlessly until he ended up at the brothel.

In a moment of impulse, he decided to stroll in and have a good time, not caring that he had no money in his pocket.

Since Joe had visited this place occasionally when he had some money, the doorman and the girls inside didn't suspect that he was trying to eat and run.

In fact, he almost got away with it, using the excuse that he had to go to the bathroom after his fun.

But as soon as he stepped outside, he was blocked by some of Scappa henchmen... Scappa had sent people to keep an eye on Joe to prevent him from running away.

The watchers saw him enter this den of iniquity and thought that he had been given money by his friend, did not want to pay and came here to flaunt it, so they called some buddies to block him.

Unexpectedly, Joe had the intention of skipping out on the bill.

This resulted in them getting no money and almost offending the Irish gang that ran the place.

Fortunately, the security guard, Brian, had no intention of clashing with the Italians. He knew they were planning to squeeze money out of Joe, and since Joe was already planning a bank robbery, he explained that as long as Joe got money, he would only have to pay back three times today's cost.

Otherwise, under normal circumstances, Joe would have to face serious consequences.

What would happen if he failed to rob the bank?

Would he die at the hands of the police or bank security?

The Irish gang wouldn't even have to lift a finger.

But while the threat of losing a limb was avoided, the Italians still needed to vent their anger.

So Joe was dragged into the alley and given a good beating.

As luck would have it, Tony Windis happened to be visiting at the same time.

A confused Joe was then led by a waiter in front of the big shot. Although Tony Windis was only a tennis player, his status as Margaret's husband made him a big shot compared to ordinary gangsters, let alone someone like Joe, who was just a street thug.

"Girls, you can step out for a moment. I need to have a little talk with this gentleman." After glancing at Joe, Tony Windis waved his hand to dismiss the two beauties beside him.

The two women exchanged knowing glances and playfully rubbed against Tony Windis before obediently leaving the private room.

"Please, sit down. Would you like a drink?" Tony Windis gestured for Joe to sit down.

"A whiskey will do," Joe said, licking his lips at the whiskey in front of Tony Windis. After the beating, he desperately needed a drink to ease the pain.

Tony Windis nodded and poured Joe a glass.

"I hear you owe a lot of money?" Tony Windis asked after Joe had taken a sip.

"Yes, sir," Joe replied carefully, setting down his glass.

"How much do you owe?" Tony Windis inquired again.

"Four thousand dollars," Joe answered succinctly; it wasn't much of a secret and there was no harm in telling.

"Four thousand dollars... Haha, you want to make some money? That's quite a sum!" Tony Windis smiled and asked.

"Sir, I don't quite understand what you mean..." Joe blinked, unsure of the man's intentions. But he knew for sure that money didn't just fall from the sky.

"Just answer me this: do you want to earn this money or not?" Tony Windis replied.

"But sir, I need to know what you want me to do!" Joe couldn't help but ask.

"Joe Barbaro, I know your situation. I know that if you don't pay up within a week, those mobsters will kill you. I also know that you're planning a bank robbery," Tony Windis said. "You really need the money."

"...Then, sir, you must also know that sometimes the profit from kidnapping can be just as much as robbing a bank!" Joe said, irritated by Tony's condescending, slightly threatening attitude.

"Oh? Is that so? Then you might be disappointed. I don't have any relatives except my wife, and frankly, my relationship with her is pretty bad. So even if you kidnap me, you won't get any money. Besides, I have a good relationship with Brian. Do you think that even if you got the ransom money, you'd have much chance to spend it? Tony Windis said, unconcerned by Joe's threat.

"You make a good point. So, sir, what exactly would you like me to do? What do you mean by a large sum of money?" Joe felt a little discouraged.

"Ten thousand dollars!" Tony Windis said, making sure the atmosphere was right, pronouncing each word clearly.

"How much?" Joe immediately looked up in surprise.

"Ten thousand," Tony Windis repeated.

Done! Joe made his decision on the spot.

Ten thousand dollars was no small sum.

It should be noted that in those days, the price for a professional hitman hired by the Mafia was usually only around two to four thousand for a single job.

Although Joe still didn't know exactly what Tony Windis wanted him to do, he thought to himself, "How could it possibly be worse than murder?

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