The roadsides in the slums were crowded with people.
Men and women of all ages were dressed casually in slippers, shorts and vests, looking a bit like China many years ago.
The things they sit on are also varied, including stools, plastic chairs, and benches.
Some of them were chatting, some were drinking, some were eating, and some were doing housework.
There are also many children gathered together to play, and balls are their most common toys.
Even if there is only a small piece of flat ground, a few children can have fun playing around a ball there.
Football Kingdom! Luke sighed in his heart and continued to move forward.
To be honest, this place is not much worse than the slums in Los Angeles. The environment is just as dirty and messy.
There must be people setting up plastic tents under the overpasses in Los Angeles, and there are also many people sleeping on the side of the road in busy areas. At least there are houses here.
Without money, everywhere is a slum.
Luke soon walked into a winding alley.
This kind of alley is only about one meter wide, wide enough for two people to pass by each other.
It twists and stretches back and forth between the buildings, and the close-fitting walls on both sides make the space extremely narrow and cramped.
Luke walked into the alley for dozens of meters and heads quietly popped out from the buildings and windows in front and behind him.
Four or five young men also walked out on the road ahead of him.
These young men had defiant looks, their clothes were in tatters, and the leader was even shirtless.
But almost all of them had guns in their hands, and on the rooftop a little further away, there were a few holding rifles.
None of them said anything, but just surrounded him silently, as if waiting for him to speak.
Luke grinned: "I want to find someone."
The shirtless young man looked him over and said, "We are not the police."
Luke smiled even more happily: "Yes, that's why I came to find you."
The shirtless young man looked at him suspiciously.
Luke had put on a little makeup, sunglasses and a big beard, which made him look less young, but his temperament was still completely different from these people.
He smiled and slowly pulled out a stack of green bills from the small backpack behind him and threw it over: "This is the deposit. Whether you can help me or not, this money is yours."
The eyes of the people around him turned green as they watched the money.
The people here are much more sensitive to banknotes than ordinary people. Several people who saw the denomination clearly couldn't help swallowing their saliva. It was a hundred-dollar note.
If I want all of this stack, it would cost at least 10,000 US dollars.
For these people, it's definitely a lot of money.
The shirtless young man subconsciously caught the stack of US dollars, quickly ran his thumb and index finger through it to make sure it was not counterfeit and that the bills inside were all in denominations of one hundred dollars. He then became hesitant.
"Wait a minute." He said, and went into the next house with the stack of US dollars.
Luke was not in a hurry. He casually reached into his small backpack and a chocolate cream lollipop appeared in his hand.
He slowly peeled off the candy wrapper and put it into his mouth.
His expression was so calm that the people around him who were staring at him felt strange.
Anyone who can remain so calm when surrounded by dozens of gunmen is either a psycho or very confident.
He felt a gaze from not far away, it was a younger young man.
He was fourteen or fifteen years old, or still a boy, and he was licking his lips.
Luke grinned: "You want to eat too?"
The half-grown boy nodded subconsciously, but immediately realized something was wrong and shook his head quickly.
Luke chuckled, took out another lollipop from his backpack and threw it over: "What are you afraid of? Can't men eat candy?"
The big boy couldn't help but catch the flying lollipop.
The group of people around, who originally had strange expressions on their faces, had nothing to say about this.
Isn't there a guy right in front of us who is surrounded by dozens of guns and still calmly eats candy? Who dares to say that he is not a man!
Of course, whether this very manly guy will die or how miserable his death will be is another matter.
Less than five minutes later, the shirtless young man appeared from another roof and gestured to the people below: "Bring him up."
The heads of the people around then quietly disappeared into the houses nearby.
There were only two young men with guns pointed at him. One led the way, and the other took his backpack and motioned for him to follow the person in front.
Luke didn't care, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and followed.
There was only some food and candy in the small backpack, nothing else.
Before he came in here, he put all his things into the storage space, and the small backpack was just a prop to deceive people.
The reason why the other party only took away the small bag and did not search him was because he was wearing a tight vest and a thin long-sleeved shirt on the upper body, and a pair of equally thin tight sports pants underneath.
Not only can't you hide a gun in this outfit, even a knife will be exposed.
After turning a few corners on the path, we entered an extremely narrow courtyard. Climbing the small and steep stairs on the side, we reached a platform with a cover.
The environment here is still very ordinary, but there is beer, food, and a refreshing sea breeze.
Apart from the lack of beauties, beaches and a bad smell, this place is quite comfortable.
A middle-aged man with various tattoos all over his body was sitting on a beach chair, and behind him were two burly men holding rifles.
The shirtless young man who called Luke over, and the two young men who escorted him over, stood behind Luke, also holding guns in their hands.
"What do you want?" the tattooed middle-aged man asked bluntly.
Luke: "Ask about someone."
Tattooed middle-aged man: "Who?"
Luke took out a photo from his shirt pocket and threw it on the small table in front of the tattooed middle-aged man: "Lisa Von. A Mexican female doctor."
The tattooed middle-aged man raised his eyebrows, took the photo on the small table, looked at it, and squinted his eyes: "I have never seen this person."
Luke said, "Sorry to bother you. Goodbye."
The tattooed middle-aged man raised his hand, and the guns of several people around him were pointed at Luke.
"You don't seem to know where this place is, or who I am!" The tattooed middle-aged man stood up, holding an M1911 pistol in his hand: "Now, hand over your money, credit cards, and passwords."
Luke raised an eyebrow: "Is this... a robbery?"
The tattooed middle-aged man grinned: "No, this is tuition. It teaches you how to survive in Rio."
Luke tilted his head as if thinking: "So you're not going to kill me?"
The tattooed middle-aged man didn't answer, but just made a gesture, and two young men came up from behind Luke and tried to grab his hands.
Luke sighed, "They have to rob people instead of making money. The local gangs are so rude!"
As he spoke, he stepped forward and walked towards the tattooed middle-aged man a few meters away.