Somewhere at a car repair shop.
From the outside, everything seemed normal, just an ordinary storefront. But inside, it was a completely different story. This was a hideout under the control of Kingpin, used for producing "laundry powder." The car repair shop was just a cover.
Although Kingpin had bribed most of the local officials, this kind of operation couldn't be out in the open. So, they had places like repair shops, freight centers, and garment factories...
At the factory entrance, on the inside of a heavy metal gate, two thuggish-looking men lazily held guns, chatting and gesturing wildly as they exchanged stories about some girl from the previous night.
The more they talked, the more excited they got, wishing they could abandon their boss's task and go relieve some tension.
However, no matter how much they wanted to, they didn't dare defy Kingpin's will. They knew Kingpin only cared about results and never showed mercy.
So, even though the two of them stood here for ten hours every day—just like today, just like yesterday, always the same—they never once considered sneaking off.
Even though they knew all they were doing was guarding.
**Bang! Bang! Bang!!**
Huh?! The heavy gate was knocked on, startling them both.
"Philly, didn't the car already come today?" one man asked the other.
"Yeah," the one named Philly nodded. "The car came on time. It's still inside."
They exchanged glances and raised their guns.
"Who's out there?"
...
...
"I'm just a car thief, doing it for fun!"
After a solid ten seconds of silence, someone finally responded.
A car thief? For fun?!
"Get lost! This isn't the place for you!"
"But I want to fix my car! Haha... I stole a manure truck."
"Guess what I smashed up on it~"
"No prize if you guess right~"
What the heck? A manure truck? What kind of person would steal that?!
"If you don't want to die, get lost!"
Though they sensed something was off, they couldn't just open the door. Otherwise, they would have fired long ago.
...
Another long silence.
The two guards figured the guy must have left.
"Philly, go inside and tell Newman. The 'milk factory' might be compromised."
The "milk factory" was code for the laundry powder production base. Every one of Kingpin's factories had a code name and a direct subordinate to manage it. Kingpin never showed up, so the low-level thugs usually hadn't even seen their boss. Some of them didn't even know who they worked for, as long as they got paid.
Newman was the person in charge of the milk factory. It was part of Kingpin's plan to stay hidden and evade the law.
"Yeah, I'll check in with the security room on my way back," Philly nodded. "Then—"
**Bang! Bang! Bang!!!**
The sudden loud banging on the door startled them again, causing them to clutch their guns tightly.
"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea~"
"Hey folks! Community outreach! Ga family army's delivering booze!"
"Dude, why's your house weigh 400 pounds..."
"Wait, lemme come up with a better one..."
...
Now! Open the door now! Shoot him!!
That was all they could think of! Even if Newman punished them later, they didn't care!
Gritting their teeth, the two men exchanged angry, frustrated looks.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the corridor behind them, and the bald, chain-wearing guy leading the group was none other than Newman, the factory boss.
"Open the door, then shoot everyone." Newman was ruthless. He had just been flirting with a blonde on the production line, about to seal the deal—she even complimented his stylish haircut—when Old Jack from the security room ran over, saying there was a weirdo at the gate, and insisted he come take a look.
Fine, he would look. Fuming with anger, Newman had stomped to the security room.
Sure enough, there was a weirdo. Wearing bizarre clothes and a strange hat, his face wrapped in bandages, with something crawling on it!
Newman Blair wasn't the smartest, but he hadn't climbed his way up from the streets by being soft. He'd earned more respect than the biker gang leaders he used to admire through his ruthless efficiency!
He didn't hesitate when it was time to make tough decisions.
This factory was isolated, surrounded by unrelated businesses. Nobody would come here in the middle of the night to fix a car. And with Kingpin's influence, no one in Brooklyn would dare to steal their turf.
Unless...
Unless it was someone like that crazy guy or the blind guy...
Better to be safe than sorry! Just take him out!
He sent Old Jack to guard the back door, unwilling to take any chances. Newman might not be well-educated, but he wasn't stupid. He feared for his life, so precautions were necessary.
...
He twisted the door lock, then kicked it open!
Without any hesitation, everyone immediately opened fire.
In the wide passageway, big enough to fit a pickup truck, seven or eight men stood in a straight line, each one firing, spitting flames from their guns. The sudden light was so blinding that they couldn't keep their eyes open, and the noise in the enclosed space was deafening. The sound alone was enough to cause pain.
Newman stood at the back, firing his handgun like a machine gun.
Tough luck for you, he thought. You shouldn't have shown up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When the bullets were spent, he motioned for the two men at the front to go out first. This time, Newman walked in the middle of the group as they stepped into the smoke.
The air was thick with the smell of—no, not love... the acrid smell of gunpowder. A scent Newman was very familiar with.
But something else should have been in the air too...
Blood.
There was no blood!
Newman quickly realized something was wrong. He snapped out of his careless mood, gripping his gun with both hands.
Looking around carefully, he saw no body!
Just as he was about to call everyone back, a voice came from above.
"Why is someone welding in a place like this? It's so bad for the eyes."
Newman thought he must have snorted too much powder earlier. Otherwise, why would he be seeing a man sitting cross-legged in mid-air?!
"Creepy... ahem! Never mind, no human should laugh like that. There's definitely something wrong with that flamingo!"
The floating man fumbled in his pocket, but didn't pull anything out, looking embarrassed. "Awkward... So, uh, want some eye drops? Seriously, they're a lifesaver, or you might go blind in both eyes!"
...
Old Jack had been guarding the back door when he heard the gunfire from the front. The shots lasted a full ten seconds. It must be over by now, he figured.
After waiting a bit, and with no one coming to get him, Jack brushed his thinning hair and decided to head back on his own.
As he approached the factory, his pace slowed.
Silence.
That wasn't Newman's style. Normally, he'd hear him swearing loudly with his cronies sucking up to him by now.
As the oldest guy at the factory, Old Jack made his decision: he'd leave first!
As for the women working inside? Let them fend for themselves!
He quietly rushed back to the back door. He turned around—nobody was following.
Maybe he had been wrong?
With gritted teeth, he made a run for it!
Cautiously, he cracked the door open—no one outside.
He slipped through the gap and closed it softly behind him. Perfect!
After scanning the surroundings, Old Jack started sneaking away, hugging the walls.
"Hey! What are you sneaking around eating back there?"
His heart skipped a beat. Trembling, Old Jack turned toward the voice...
Floating in mid-air was a man.
Without hesitation, Old Jack threw his gun away and dropped to his knees. "It—it was all their fault! My daughter-in-law is sick, and I—"
"Mm-hmm."
The man in the air nodded in agreement. "Yeah, my grandma always said dogs have the worst farts."
(End of chapter)