Early morning.
Dawn was just beginning to break.
The streets gradually came alive with pedestrians. Familiar faces greeted each other, and the shouts from street vendors marked the beginning of another busy and ordinary day.
Among the crowd, some observant passersby noticed that a shop—which had been renovated a month ago but never opened—was now finally open for business!
People paused curiously, gathering in small groups to whisper about this shop, which seemed completely out of place in the neighborhood.
After all, Brooklyn wasn't exactly a wealthy area. Most of the residents here were regular working-class folks.
So opening an antique shop in a place with zero buying power was not a smart business move—no wonder it had everyone talking.
The owner of this out-of-place shop? Wang Ye.
In reality, the antique shop was just a cover identity for Wang Ye. His new background said he had once been a wealthy estate owner in Norway, so it made sense that he would've brought some precious heirlooms with him.
Even if he was now a refugee, as the saying goes: a skinny camel is still bigger than a horse. Opening a small antique shop? Believable.
Luckily, during Red Skull's past search for the Tesseract, he'd also seized a trove of rare treasures—now they could finally be put to good use.
Wang Ye had instructed Jon to set up this shop specifically in Brooklyn to stand out like a sore thumb—something attention-grabbing. Otherwise, how else would a certain super-soldier, always walking with his head down, notice it?
From the storage room in the back, Wang Ye dragged out a lounge chair and placed it beside the register. After a long stretch, he lay down comfortably, crossed his legs, hummed a little tune, puffed on a cigar, and exhaled leisurely.
As for the murmuring pedestrians outside, Wang Ye didn't care.
What interested him were the two suspicious figures lurking in the alley across the street.
From within the shadows of the alley, two pairs of shifty eyes were greedily sizing up the antiques inside the shop.
After a while, the two conferred briefly. One of them left in a hurry, while the other stayed behind to continue observing.
Wang Ye squinted, calmly watching their every move.
In reality, hidden in the shadows nearby, dozens of Hydra's top agents were lying in wait to ensure Wang Ye's safety.
Jon had insisted on this arrangement, righteously proclaiming:
"The safety of the Leader is always the top priority! Even if no one can harm him, we still must protect him. Otherwise, what's the point of our existence?"
Wang Ye had no choice but to accept Jon's stubborn insistence on his security, even though it was overkill.
So now, the surrounding area was swarming with elite Hydra agents, lying in ambush.
About fifteen minutes later, the man who had left returned with six more companions. The group huddled together in the alley, whispering their plans.
Their expressions grew increasingly excited—the greedy glint in their eyes was so strong it seemed like it could light up the dark alley.
What they didn't know was that a dozen cold, sharp gazes from above were silently watching their every move from the blind spots of their vision.
After a bit of planning, the two original scouts stayed behind to keep watch, while the six newcomers, led by a thug with a crew cut and a hideous scar above his right eye, marched toward the antique shop with hostile intent.
Seeing this, the hidden agents prepared to strike—but were immediately signaled by Wang Ye to stand down. Without hesitation, the agents faded back into the shadows.
The cocky thugs swaggered toward the shop, completely oblivious that they had just walked past the gates of hell—their expressions still smug, as if they were invincible.
They didn't even bother hiding their intentions from the pedestrians on the street. The bystanders, recognizing trouble, stepped aside to avoid getting involved.
And so, under everyone's gaze, these scumbags boldly entered the antique shop.
"Protection fee collection time!"
The crew-cut leader rested his machete on his shoulder, grinning wickedly. His eyes gleamed with greed.
The thugs behind him quickly fanned out and surrounded Wang Ye, who was still lounging in his chair.
Pedestrians outside also gathered, curious to see what would happen.
"How sad. The shop just opened and already the Scorpion Gang is here to shake them down,"
a headscarf-wearing woman with a shopping basket said with pity.
"I know, right?" another middle-aged woman chimed in.
"They've had people watching this place for weeks. Looks like today's the day.
Even if the owner survives, all those antiques are as good as gone."
The mention of the Scorpion Gang made the woman shudder as if recalling something traumatic.
"Shouldn't we get the soldiers on patrol?" a skinny young man suggested, clearly still naive.
"Are you kidding?" said a bearded man with a scoff.
"Cops don't have time to deal with this kind of small stuff."
"Yeah! Things are a mess these days. The gangs are taking full advantage.
Even the government looks the other way. Don't stick your nose in—you'll just get yourself hurt."
The young man clenched his fists. Deep down, he understood the situation.
Most elite soldiers had already been sent to the front lines, leaving the cities vulnerable. With the military stretched thin, gangs had flourished like a plague.
He looked toward the antique shop, where the gangsters were acting like they owned the place. Determined, he took a deep breath, puffed out his scrawny chest, and squeezed through the crowd, slowly making his way to the shop.
"Protection fee?"
"Are you from the Tax Department?"
Wang Ye didn't even bother lifting his eyes. He casually took a drag of his cigar and replied in a flat, disinterested tone.
The gang leader, used to throwing his weight around with the Scorpion Gang backing him, was immediately enraged by the sarcasm.
He raised his machete, eyes filled with menace.
"Don't you know? These ten blocks are Scorpion Gang turf.
If you open a shop here, you follow the rules. You will pay protection fees—willingly or not.
Otherwise, my boys will just take what they want!"
He stared greedily at the antique displays, clearly not taking Wang Ye seriously.
He'd seen tough guys before—they all gave in eventually.
"Oh~ tough guy, huh?"
Wang Ye glanced lazily at the thugs. Then his eyes flicked toward the shop entrance, where the skinny youth was squeezing through the crowd.
At a glance, Wang Ye instantly recognized him as none other than a pre-serum Steve Rogers—the future Captain America.
"Thing is, I don't feel like giving you my money.
I think you should be handing over your cash to compensate me for emotional distress."
Wang Ye slowly stood up, calmly facing the six gangsters.
Then, from beneath the register, he pulled out a solid gold, diamond-studded baseball bat.
He looked at them with a mocking smile.