Irving's ancestors only had a period of prosperity in the Clinton area many years ago, when they successfully turned this place into a hell in the eyes of New Yorkers.
Today, Kingpin has begun to integrate the dark forces in New York. His business has expanded from the earliest drug trafficking to a one-stop industrial chain of smuggling, selling stolen goods, special services, bars and nightclubs, and high-end hotels.
What's even more terrifying is that this guy has extended his tentacles to major cities across the country, forming alliances, eating, fighting, and winning over others, increasing market share, and manipulating market prices to gain greater profits.
They are not crazy yet and do not want to go against the big guys who have already become the dominant force.
The boss Owen was too crazy and didn't notice the sudden silence of his men. He was still talking about how to regain the family's former glory.
Several men standing by couldn't help but exchange glances with each other, as if they all understood what the other was thinking.
Maybe, in a few days, I will be able to think about the boss position under Irving
A dead person cannot be their boss.
Just when Boss Owen was full of ambition and arrogance, and several of his subordinates were exchanging glances and waiting for the boss to die, there was suddenly a knock on the door.
The thick iron door made three crisp clang sounds and then stopped.
The two gangsters guarding the gate raised their guns vigilantly. This rhythm was not a secret signal from the guards outside.
After a brief pause, there were three knocks on the door again.
He walked at a moderate pace, just like a polite person going to a stranger's door to ask for directions.
Owen waved his hand, signaling the guards in the hall to draw their guns, be alert, and be ready to fire at any time.
Seeing that his men were ready, he gestured to the gangster at the door, asking him to open the small window on the door to observe who was coming.
A gangster moved his face forward, only to see the guard outside standing seriously behind a man in a hat and black windbreaker, with his gun pointed at the man.
Only the lower half of the black-clad man's face was in his sight. Under the shadow of his hat brim, one could only see the corners of his mouth and his mustache curled up, as if he was smiling happily.
The gangster was stunned for a moment and asked, "Femi, who is he?"
The gangster Fermi outside the door said with a straight face: "Dirk, he said he is a big customer and wants to talk to the boss in person."
Dirk, the gangster inside the door: "Why did you let him knock on the door?"
Fermi still kept a straight face: "He said it was more polite this way."
Dirk frowned. "Have you searched him?"
Fermi raised his free hand and showed a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills: "This is all he has. He said it's a deposit."
Dirk turned his head and looked at the boss, Irving: "Someone said he wanted to buy some goods. Fermi searched him and found only a wad of cash."
Of course Dirk in the small window couldn't see that Fermi outside the door already had a layer of fine sweat beads on his forehead.
Behind him was Selina who had activated optical camouflage. She was grabbing his clothes with one hand and the muzzle of the tranquilizer gun in the other hand was pointing at his back.
Owen also vaguely heard the conversation at the door. He hesitated for a moment and waved at the armed bandit who was on guard.
The gangsters dispersed slightly, with the muzzles of their guns lowered but not put away.
Dirk at the door opened the iron gate, took a step back, and pointed the gun at the man in black.
The man in black walked into the iron gate at a leisurely pace without any panic, and nodded slightly to Dirk beside him: "Thank you."
Dirk frowned immediately: This is actually a very authentic London accent! Is this guy looking for death
While he was thinking this, the man in black had already walked past him and walked to a place not far from the women who were packing the goods, seeming to be looking at the goods.
Owen was immediately dissatisfied: "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man in black did not answer him, but said: "The night gave me black eyes. I didn't use them to look for the light, but looked down at you little rats in the sewer. Life is so difficult."
He still spoke with that authentic London accent, and his speech even had a poetic rhythm.
Owen: "... Very good, wait till I dig your eyes out. Then you will have black eyes and your second half of life will be even more difficult."
Irving has been visibly agitated lately, unable to control his emotions. He has no time to waste talking to this guy.
Moreover, this guy actually dared to come to their lair alone in the middle of the night and speak in a London accent. No matter whether he is a psychopath or not, he must die.
Because people like Irving are all Irish.
Everyone in the Clinton area also knew that they were an Irish gang.
Owen showed a cruel smile on his face and waved his hand to signal his two men to go down and break the guy's hands.
Owen didn't use the gun because he didn't want to give the damn British guy an advantage. He wanted to torture him to death slowly.
The two gangsters grabbed two crowbars and approached with oppressive steps. They swung the crowbars in their hands and smashed them at the man in black.
Through Luke's lens, he saw Selina quietly slipping in through the door, which meant that the beating operation could begin: "Violence can also be used to do good things."
As he spoke, he crossed his hands and reached down, pulling out two 30-centimeter-long matte knives from his waist under his cloak.
A blurry black shadow flashed in the air, and the two gangsters who rushed over felt their hands go cold, and the crowbars in their hands flew out uncontrollably.
The next moment, they screamed and two thin red lines appeared on their wrists. After a while, blood seeped out from the red lines.
"Shoot him, kill him." Owen, the gang leader who had been in the Clinton area for many years, was experienced and quick to react, and he shouted directly.
Bang bang bang bang!
A series of gunshots rang out from the crowd.
But the man in black who was surrounded by them in the center of the venue just now suddenly moved more than ten meters horizontally and swung the knife in his hand again.
Another gunman dropped his hands and screamed.
"When facing bad guys, we must use extreme means of fighting violence with violence..."
The magnetic and gentle baritone voice, like that in a BBC documentary, echoed in the factory. Even the deafening gunshots could not suppress it.
The matte black knife once again swept across the hands of a gangster, even though the man retreated repeatedly and tried to hide behind his companions.
As a result, Luke passed by him and waved his hand, and the gangster's companion also dropped his hands and screamed.
“We need to stand up to the powerful…”
As he spoke, two matte knives flew out of his hands, and the right shoulders of two gangsters who were shooting with rifles were pierced. They dropped their guns and screamed.
"Strive to eradicate evil and uphold justice..." Luke tapped his feet repeatedly, and like a massless ghost, he turned left and right in the air. He crossed his hands again and reached into his waist, and two more matte knives appeared in his hands.