Chapter 6: About the Little Matter of Making Money

Brooklyn.

Peter stood under a street lamp, his hands in his pockets, casually scanning the passing vehicles and pedestrians around him.

The security in the Banhao Sen community was probably one of the worst in Brooklyn. Not only were thefts frequent, but drug trafficking and smuggling were also rampant. With a diverse population of immigrants, this area was chaotic and difficult to manage.

"Zoom!"

A Lexus zoomed past him without any sign of slowing down.

Peter adjusted his baseball cap and continued to wait for his catch, unfazed.

Just robbing a few thugs randomly wouldn't net him much money. He didn't know the location of the gang headquarters, so he had to resort to this waiting game.

But in this "simple-minded" neighborhood, he estimated that gang members would show up soon enough.

As expected, a few minutes later, a "ding-ding" pickup truck drove by.

The driver saw Peter standing by the roadside with his cap pulled low, probably trying to observe him, so he slowed down.

But soon, the driver accelerated and honked mockingly.

The pickup truck whizzed past Peter, and a fast food cup with the words "Good Fortune Chicken" flew out of the window.

The cup flew past him and landed in the roadside ditch behind him.

The driver's laughter echoed as the car gradually disappeared into the night.

Peter watched expressionlessly as the pickup truck vanished.

But soon, the taillights of the pickup lit up.

With a screech of brakes, the pickup stopped, then backed into the roadside.

Two young men got out of the pickup, approaching Peter with playful smiles.

One of them had mop-like blond hair, while the other was short, chubby, and freckled.

"Nice car, but a bit drafty, aren't you afraid of catching a cold?" Peter frowned at the two men.

"This is my dad's car," said the blond, as he approached Peter.

The short one, meanwhile, positioned himself behind Peter.

The two of them sandwiched him in between.

"I want to buy some 'lubricant,' but I need a lot. Do you have any?" Peter asked directly, knowing they were thugs.

"Wow, buddy, I like your tone," the blond coughed and exchanged a glance with the short one behind Peter before asking, "Did you bring money?"

"Of course." Peter casually took out two stacks of fake dollars from his pocket and waved them in front of the others. "Is this enough?"

As a high school student, Peter naturally didn't have that much money. Except for the top and bottom bills, the rest in the stacks were just paper. It would pass in the dim light of night but would likely be exposed in daylight.

The two thugs didn't suspect that Peter was using fake money to deceive them; they just thought they had stumbled upon a big fish.

The blond originally wanted to rob Peter outright, but seeing the dangerous look in his eyes, he quickly abandoned the idea. Who knew if this guy had a gun hidden on him? He suddenly regretted not bringing his own gun. Then he could have just robbed Peter directly.

"You better not be playing us. Otherwise, your end will be miserable." After some hesitation, the blond decided to take Peter to their boss.

As for whether this guy was a cop? Honestly, he had never seen cops enforce the law in this way before.

The pickup truck started again and sped off down the road.

Peter sat in the back seat, with the blond driving and the short one in the back.

Peter felt a bit regretful that the two thugs hadn't tried to rob him. His original plan was to beat them up and force them to reveal their hideout. He didn't expect them to hold back.

"So, where are we going?" Inside the pickup truck, Peter looked out the window at the passing scenery and casually asked the two men.

"Hell's Kitchen. We have plenty of goods there, enough for you to buy as much as you want," the blond replied.

"Which gang are you guys from? The Triad or the Snake Gang?" Peter inquired.

"Neither. We belong to the Hand Society. Don't mistake us for those Northern bastards from the Triad; we've kicked their asses," the blond said.

The Hand Society again? Peter furrowed his brow at the name.

The last time he dealt with those guys who tried to kidnap Gwen, they were from the Hand Society too.

The two thugs in front of him were also members of the Hand Society.

The coincidence between him and the Hand Society was quite remarkable.

After dealing with those brutes last night, Peter had searched online for information about the Hand Society.

There wasn't much information available online about them. They were a gang active in Midtown and Hell's Kitchen, and they had been prosecuted for illegal dealings involving sea snails.

The information seemed mundane, with nothing particularly special about them.

Peter wanted to ask a few more questions, but the pickup truck had already zigzagged its way into the infamous "Hell's Kitchen."

"Squeak!"

Soon, the car parked in front of a two-story building in a residential area.

The night wind whistled, and the two men who got out of the car instinctively tightened their clothes.

"This darn weather!" Cursing, the two men led Peter up to the building.

Since the blond had already informed their boss in advance, they didn't waste any time and took Peter directly into the room.

Pushing open the door and entering the spacious hall, silence greeted them.

The lights in the room were off, casting darkness over the entire space.

There was only the sound of the blond's shouting and the howling wind outside the window.

"Boss?"

Shouting, the blond scratched his head in confusion.

"Weird. Where is everyone? When I called just now, the boss said he would be waiting for me here."

Standing behind the two men, Peter frowned.

A strong smell of blood entered his nostrils.

Having experienced the "Xenomorph Research Facility Incident," Peter naturally understood what it meant.

The instinct of the predator hidden within him awakened as the scent of blood flowed through his body.

In a way, the Xenomorph could be considered the Spider-Man of aliens. It would silently approach its prey and attack unexpectedly, with unstoppable force, even detecting danger through the flow and movement of air.

With the influence of the Xenomorph embryo inside him, Peter's instincts as a hunter were triggered, and he disappeared from his original position.

The blond, on the other side, swallowed hard, exchanging uneasy glances with the short one. Both could sense each other's unease.

When the blond turned around, he realized that Peter, who had been standing behind him, had disappeared.

Already feeling uneasy, he became even more flustered.

"Damn it! Where did that guy go?"

Not only had their boss disappeared, but the guy following behind him had also vanished.

Everything seemed incredibly eerie!

The next moment!

With a "bang," he fell heavily to the ground.

It seemed like something had tripped him up.

...