part 7

After speaking, Jason aimed at Anatoly's manhood and fired a shot.

"NOOOOOO!!!" Anatoly's agonizing scream echoed throughout the mall.

[Ding! Hit one of Anatoly's family jewels, earn 100 villain points, current progress: 1350/2000]

"Congratulations, Vladimir. Your brother is now a soprano singer," Jason quipped with a twisted grin on his face.

"Jason, stop!" Vladimir pleaded. "I... I can compensate you. I will pay for your house and all your losses. Please don't hurt Anatoly."

But Jason remained unmoved. "I'm sorry, but my losses can only be compensated with your brothers' lives."

"FUCK YOU!" Anatoly screamed in agony.

Jason shook his head, thinking Anatoly's swear vocabulary were really limited. "Hey! Did you hear your brother's wailing? Why don't you hurry to save him?"

Boom! Another shot rang out, hitting Anatoly's thigh and causing another round of screams.

Vladimir became restless and ordered one of his men to rescue Anatoly. However, walking out of the safe passage at this time was no different than suicide.

The chosen mafia had a hundred unwillingness in his heart. But Vladimir clenched his pistol and glared at him fiercely. As long as he dared to say anything, his head would be pierced by bullets.

With a resigned sigh, the man slipped out of the safe passage and crawled forward, clinging to the ground. He cautiously climbed to Anatoly's side, reached out, and pulled his feet back.

On the white ground, a long and wide trail of bright red blood was dragged out.

Jason watched coldly, his M4A1 aimed at the man, but he didn't shoot right away.

When Anatoly was only a few meters away from the safety exit, a loud explosion echoed through the mall.

A fiery bullet pierced through the man's head, instantly killing him.

[Ding! Kill a mafia, get 100 villain points, current progress: 1450/2000]

Vladimir slammed his fist on the ground in anger and frustration.

"Boss, this is clearly Jason's trap. We can't fall for it and risk losing everything," his men advised, trying to calm him down.

Despite understanding that it was a trick, Vladimir's heart ached at the sight of his dying brother lying on the ground just outside the exit.

He struggled to control his emotions, knowing that losing him and endangering his entire gang was not worth it.

Just as the group of people were locked in a standoff, the distant whistling of a police car echoed through the air.

It had been ten minutes since the apartment had exploded, and the NYPD were quick to respond.

The sound of the police car snapped Vladimir out of his trance.

"Boss, the police are here, we need to leave now," one of his men urged.

Vladimir gave a nod of agreement.

With a heavy heart and tears streaming down her face, Vladimir cast a final glance at Anatoly before turning to leave.

Jason!

I will never forget this grudge.

Even if it means fighting until the end of my life, I will see you dead!

As Jason heard the distant sound of a police siren, he became anxious and quickly shot Anatoly in the leg.

"Vladimir, are you really going to leave your brother behind and run away?"

After firing a few more shots, there was no response from the safe passage. Vladimir had already fled, leaving his plan to catch Jason in shambles.

Feeling a tinge of disappointment, Jason shot Anatoly in the head and made a swift escape.

[Ding! Kill Anatoly (Daredevil), gain 500 villain points. Current progress: 1950/2000]

Jason hustled into a fancy Nike store, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. He quickly snatched a pair of the latest black sports shoes and threw them on, feeling pretty fly. Then, he grabbed a backpack and stuffed it with guns and ammo. Finally, he snatched a baseball cap from a hapless Mannequin and made a break for it through a hidden passageway.

[Ding! Pilfer like a pro, get 10 wicked points. Progress now at 1960/2000]

Pushing the door open, the sky was already darker than Batman's suit, and the siren was screaming like a fangirls at a K-pop concert.

Jason lowered the brim of his hat and strutted quickly into the alley, disappearing into the shadows like a magician's disappearing act.

There are too many people on the main road, and cameras are watching every move, so Jason had to take the stinky and cramped alleyway.

But alleys have their own problems.

As he walked, he suddenly heard a voice behind him.

"Hey, buddy, what's in that lumpy black sack?"

Three punk kids, with their hair colored more than a rainbow, dangling metal chains,

blaring music from their portable speakers, and chewing gum like their lives depended on it. One of them even had a dagger in his hand, probably just for show.

"Hey there, buddy, what do you have in that big ol' bag of yours?" asked the teen with the dagger, flashing a grin.

Jason said, "Just some toys." He pulled out a shotgun from his backpack.

The trio's eyes widened in shock.

"Behold, the Bernelli M4 Super 90 shotgun, with a semi-automatic design, capable of firing a variety of calibers. One shot and you'll have a big hole in your chest, but don't worry, the recoil is low and the sound is not too loud. It's a pretty cool thing, don't you think?"

The three of them exchanged nervous glances and turned around to run away.

Jason chuckled to himself, remembering his own past when he used to rob people in alleys, but with a loaded 9mm pistol instead of a knife.

Time flies so fast, he thought to himself as he put the shotgun back in his backpack and continued his journey through the alleyways.

After jumping into three different taxis, Jason finally arrived at his destination: a rental warehouse on the west side of Manhattan, situated by the banks of the Hudson River.

This type of self-storage warehouse is cheap and convenient, and it's very popular throuout Americans.

For a mere $80 a month, you can rent a 20-square-meter warehouse in a remote location.

And as long as you keep up with your payments, nobody checks what you keep stored inside.

So Jason decided to rent a 100-square-meter warehouse as his own private hideout.

He made sure to keep the location of this safe house a secret, not even Kingpin or any of Jason's other cronies knew where it was.

Jason inserted the key and turned it, the rolling shutter of the warehouse began to rise, revealing a dimly lit room filled with old and tattered furniture.

As he stepped inside, he couldn't help but sigh at the state of the place. A TV that had seen better days, a rickety sofa, a stained dining table, and a few chairs that looked like they were about to fall apart.

But despite the mess, Jason knew that this place was his only safe haven. It was his secret storage unit, hidden away from prying eyes.

He shut the rolling shutter behind him and fished out a flashlight from the drawer of a nearby table. Pushing aside the furniture, he revealed a dusty old suitcase.

Inside, there were all the essentials for a life on the run: a change of clothes, guns and ammunition, a fake driver's license and passport, a portable medical kit, a mobile phone, and a wad of cash totaling twenty thousand dollars.

As Jason rummaged through his medical kit, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

"I must be the only criminal in the world who can stitch up their own gunshot wounds," he thought to himself.

With the ease and precision of a seasoned surgeon, Jason disinfected the wound, threaded the needle, and began sewing himself up.

"Who needs a hospital when you've got a medical kit and a steady hand?" he joked to himself, admiring his handiwork in the dim light of the warehouse.