New York, Downtown Manhattan Hospital
"Scissors! Quick—"
"Prepare the sutures."
"Alright everyone! Start stitching, this young man is safe now."
...I couldn't help but squint; the blinding white light was really uncomfortable.
"Ah—it hurts…"
My arm instinctively rose to shield my eyes, but a sudden, piercing pain shot through me.
The smell of disinfectant also assailed my nose.
"Buddy, if I were you, I wouldn't move a muscle." A voice reached my ear.
Ignoring the discomfort in my eyes, I looked to the side, where a kind-looking middle-aged man was writing something down.
The familiar smell, the familiar white coat—why was I in a hospital?
My mind was a bit jumbled. What happened?
He seemed to have noticed my confusion: "You're very lucky, young man, and a miracle too. A rebar pierced your lung, but you bravely pulled through. Also, your arm is broken, but your uncle… I'm so sorry."
He looked at my still bewildered expression: "It was a car accident—are you alright? Do you feel conscious?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you, Doctor." The confusion on my face faded as I spoke to the doctor.
"Alright, you should rest. We'll perform a full examination on you tonight." Thinking I was lost in grief, the doctor, who was about to leave, turned back at the door and said, "If you're hungry, there are some fruits nearby, but remember, don't eat too much yet."
"Okay, Doctor, I'll keep that in mind."
As the sound of the door closing echoed, I turned my head and fell into contemplation. Clearly, the original owner of this body hadn't produced a miracle… I closed my eyes, and a flood of information began to surface in my mind.
My name is Watson. Yes… just like the Watson in Sherlock Holmes, of course, only a namesake.
However, my current name should be Watson Diarlante.
Before crossing over, I was a conscripted university student in my senior year, about to return to my studies.
Then, on my way back to school—I was hit by a car and died. Haha, what a coincidence, both car accidents.
The original owner of this body, Watson Diarlante, had lived with his Uncle Rocco, who had taken care of him, before the car accident.
Uncle Rocco owned an auto repair shop. Watson usually helped his uncle with work, and the two depended on each other. As for his parents—they both passed away when he was five years old.
"Sure enough, a transmigration protagonist's parents dying young is standard equipment, right? But…"
I looked at the will on the table by the hospital bed… Why couldn't even the remaining uncle be spared?! At least give me a way to live!
That's right, Uncle Rocco was the one driving during the car accident. Unfortunately, after arriving at the hospital, Uncle Rocco didn't survive the surgery.
"And it's this damn world!"
I turned my head and saw a Playboy magazine on the fashion rack by the door, with a flamboyant mustache and a disgusting smile—Tony Stark.
"Sigh~"
Closing his eyes, Watson, no longer lost in wild thoughts, slowly drifted into a dream.
In his dream, Watson didn't hear a voice that seemed to appear in his mind, saying something.
Over the past two days, an uncle named Polk, accompanied by his wife, Aunt Lia, frequently visited Watson.
However, due to the long journey, Watson discouraged them from making the trip repeatedly.
But for the past two days, he had felt an itch in his stomach. Two days later, at Watson's renewed request, his attending physician arranged another comprehensive examination, which revealed that, aside from his arm fracture remaining unchanged, the fatal lung injury had almost completely healed! The doctor initially thought it was an error and re-examined, but both conclusions were the same. His attending physician had no choice but to approve Watson's request for discharge.
After completing the discharge procedures, Watson walked out of the hospital entrance and caught a faint whiff of gunpowder.
This made Watson, who disliked target practice during his time as a conscript, frown.
He looked back at the hospital sign. Then he remembered the location of 'The Roaring Home.'
Manhattan? Hell's Kitchen? This place probably deals mostly with gunshot wounds… Watson, with his arm in a sling, arrived at 'The Roaring Home' auto repair shop, located at the intersection of Manhattan and Hell's Kitchen.
Through the will his uncle had already prepared, 'The Roaring Home' had passed into Watson's name, along with approximately $80,000 in savings and $3,000 in cash. Perhaps one should also count the old hunting rifle hanging on the bedroom wall?
Across the street was a gun shop called 'Man's Romance,' owned by Uncle Polk. Apparently, the two had opened their shops together.
Hmm… business on both sides was quite good. After all, it was a place with persistently high crime rates, and repairs for firearms and vehicles were essential. It was also for this reason that nearby small gangs and street thugs were relatively accommodating to both shops. However, with his uncle's passing, some people might have ideas.
"This probably… isn't a hell-level difficulty start, right?"
They say the rich rely on technology, and the poor rely on mutation—but I seem to have nothing?!
Recalling that face from the magazine—
Hmm—compared to this Marvel world where superheroes are as common as dogs and alien gods fly everywhere, it's still a hell-level start after all—thump thump thump
"Watson, son, it's me, Uncle Polk."
Watson opened the door: "Hello, Uncle Polk."
"Are you alright, son? How do you feel now?"
"I'm fine, Uncle Polk. I was just… tidying up the house."
"Alright then, come on, son, let's do it together. When we're done, we'll go see your Aunt Lia; she made your favorite double cheeseburger."
Uncle Polk said, and then began to help me tidy up the house.
Watson, who had been hungry for a long time, also started working. Although one hand was a bit inconvenient, the allure of delicious food still filled Watson with energy… (Labor time divider) … "It was absolutely delicious, Aunt Lia!"
"Child, it's good that you're alright." Aunt Lia, over 45 but still charming, brought a fresh double cheeseburger from the kitchen and placed it in front of Watson.
"Of course! Hahaha, our Watson is a man!" Uncle Polk said to Aunt Lia, stroking his full beard.
"Oh, by the way, Watson, don't miss your Uncle Rocco's funeral in three days."
"Don't worry, Uncle Polk, I'll be there on time."
After saying goodbye to Uncle Polk and his wife, I walked alone on the street, pondering life.
Just as I was thinking about how I would live my life from now on, I instinctively touched the gift Uncle Polk had given me on my lower back—
A Glock 19 pistol, and a box of 9mm bullets in my pocket.
"Kid, if you're injured, go home and cry to your mommy! This isn't the place for you!"
An unkind tone startled Watson from his thoughts. He looked up at the person who spoke to him.
Purple hair spiked up, two rows of earrings in each ear. His gaze shifted, finally settling on a black cobra tattoo on the left side of the person's neck.
It's the Black Snake Gang! Uncle used to say not to go to the West District because there were two gangs fighting for territory in that area!
The West District is the territory of the Black Snake Gang. The auto repair shop and gun shop in the center of the two districts are their targets! One of the two gangs is the Black Snake Gang! The other is the Dire Wolf Gang!
However, the central area is currently controlled by the Dire Wolf Gang, so the Dire Wolf Gang boss had already sent people to reach an agreement with Uncle and Uncle Polk: the Dire Wolf Gang would provide a certain degree of protection to the two shops, and the two shops would prioritize business from the Dire Wolf Gang! After all, gangs fight for territory for profit. If they don't even spare the ordinary people in their territory, then the gang cannot survive!
Therefore, the Dire Wolf Gang, supported by the gun shop and auto repair shop in the central area, held a certain advantage. The Black Snake Gang was furious about this, as these two places were supply points for firearms, ammunition, and vehicles in the central area!
Watson, having sorted out his thoughts, silently glanced at the Manwu Bar not far behind the purple-haired man, then turned and walked away.
A wise man knows when to retreat! Especially when injured!
Besides, Watson didn't believe that this purple-haired man hadn't recognized who he was! The personnel situation of both shops must have been well known to the Black Snake Gang!
Back home, Watson recalled the look in the purple-haired man's eyes—a strange mix of excitement and greed!
It seemed he needed to make some preparations—1 AM.
Ding! Ding! Bang!
Phew, finally installed~
Watson, with his injured arm, put down the hammer. Ever since returning from the Black Snake Gang's turf today, he had a very uneasy feeling!
This feeling of being targeted had lingered!
So, as soon as Watson returned home, he began his preparations!
Looking at the scattered parts on the floor, Watson couldn't help but mumble, fortunately, there was an iron ladder that could be lowered from the second floor, otherwise, wouldn't he be trapped to death? The Roaring Home was a two-story building; the second floor was living quarters for resting, and the first floor was divided into two parts, front and back.
The front part had two repair bays and some tools and equipment, while the back part had a small living room, a warehouse, and stairs.
Watson took off his work clothes and began to examine his handiwork.
First, the main door. It used to be an electric rolling gate for vehicles, with an anti-theft door on the left for people. Now, the entire gap of the anti-theft door was sprayed with expanding foam!
And covered with a layer of wood planks nailed shut! The electric rolling gate could only be opened by an internal button, which was relatively safe, but just in case, foam was also sprayed into its gaps.
The door leading to the back part was a simple wooden bolt, and some heavy objects were prepared next to the door to block it—He looked at his left hand, still in a splint, feeling quite helpless ╮(╯_╰)╭. It was really inconvenient with one hand.
Watson, who had been busy for a long time, sat in a chair, feeling a bit drowsy.
Time rewound to before he returned home.
One of the subordinates behind the purple-haired man looked at the departing Watson and couldn't help but say to the purple-haired man: "Third Brother, isn't that the kid from the auto repair shop? Why did you let him just walk away like that?"
"What? You want to kill him right here on a crowded street? I'm going to find the boss, you guys keep a good watch!"
The purple-haired man said and walked towards the Manwu Bar not far away.
He opened the door of the Manwu Bar, ignored the dazzling colorful lights and deafening DJ music, but couldn't help but stare when his gaze swept across the central stage. A sexy and alluring figure was twisting around a pole, dressed in a shimmering silver low-cut short dress, like a captivating silver snake. Her soft, slender neck and round, perky buttocks, like a Dominican dancer, exuded an aura of desire.
After a moment of daze, the purple-haired man suddenly felt a chill, then remembered that the sexy figure on stage was not someone he could lust after. Countless souls had already perished beneath her! She was the Manwu Bar's signature! And also the Black Snake Gang's 'diplomat and cleaner': Silver Snake!
Snapping back to reality, the purple-haired man quickly walked to the third floor. There was something more important now!
He went straight to the third floor. The two burly men at the door saw him approaching.
"Good to see you, Third Brother!"
"Yes, I need to see the boss!"
Opening the door,
As he walked into the inner hall, he faintly heard gasps and heavy breathing. The purple-haired man stood quietly in place, waiting for that man,
Cohen Little, the soul of the Black Snake Gang, Black Snake.
"Mmm…ugh!"
Cohen Little, finally released, waved the woman on the bed away, sat on the edge of the bed, lit a cigarette, and spoke: "What is it?"
He was clearly in a foul mood, but no one in that position was a fool; they knew what was important.
"Boss, I just saw that kid from the auto repair shop. His left arm is in a sling, so it seems—the news that the old geezer is dead is true!"
Hmm? A dangerous glint flashed in Black Snake's calm, unmoving eyes.
"Boss?"
After a long silence—"It seems our opportunity has come! Tonight at 1 AM! Gather your men, go deal with that kid, and take over that shop! Be clean and swift! Try not to be discovered! Silver Snake and I will ambush the Dire Wolf Gang. If you're exposed, just kill that kid directly!"
This time, we'll take the central area directly! If all goes well, even the entire East District will be mine!
The two cold glints behind the smoke perfectly embodied Cohen Little's deadly black snake!