New Gods of North America.

Chapter 611 Level
The advancing group of people moved faster and faster, with the last few even half-lifting the sticks in their hands, resembling a "fishman charge".

The tall and imposing Sanders stood in front of Wayne, one hand outstretched with fingers spread, his clothes starting to feel tight.
He raised his voice towards them: "Stop! Getting any closer is tantamount to attempting an attack."

The guide named Ciren, who was standing next to them, hurriedly shouted, "@#$%^&&**%$##..."

The responses from the other end were short and hurried, and probably didn't say anything nice.
The two "little fishmen" at the forefront quickly raised their wooden sticks high above their heads and leaped up one after the other in perfect unison, like heroic boarding minions in a pirate movie.

"Snap," "Thump," "Ooh..." "#$%^&!"

"boom!"

Sanders ducked and lunged forward, pushing the first ball that flew towards them back in mid-air. After landing, the ball slid backward a short distance on the ground due to inertia, not falling like a bowling ball, but it still slowed down the opposing team's charge.
The one that flew over later was less fortunate; it took a solid uppercut to the belly and then slid down limply.

However, what truly brought their actions to a halt was Wayne's shot into the sky—a common occurrence in the West. At least half the bullet holes in the ceiling of the Blackrock tavern were made by sheriffs, so frequently that the repair costs didn't even need to be claimed each time; a quarterly settlement with the police station was sufficient.

Wayne blew away the gunpowder smoke from the muzzle of his gun, his gaze shifting back and forth between the group of thugs.

Some things might be related to momentum; in small western towns, sheriffs, once they confirm an attack, will genuinely "shoot to death" without hesitation.

Although Wayne didn't utter any trash talk, the moment their eyes met, the scene quickly fell silent in the standoff, with not a single official daring to speak.

However, not wanting to lose face, although the opposing group stopped, one of them still stepped forward, stood at the front of the line, and started chattering away.
Wayne turned his gaze to the guide, who quickly translated, "He said our community doesn't welcome outsiders."

“We are authorized by the Richmond City Health Board to conduct plague screenings only for residents of the neighborhood and will not charge any public fees.” Wayne tugged at the red armband on his arm and looked over again. “The dock area is also under Richmond’s jurisdiction. Anyone who violently resists will be dealt with according to the law, and the rest can disperse on their own.”

The guide quickly started chatting away with the people on the other side. After a few rounds, some of them had already lowered their sticks. It was unclear what exactly had convinced them.

Wayne, however, realized that the leader could understand him, pointed at him, and asked, "What is his identity?"

The guide hesitated, unsure how to answer. Wayne understood. "Tell them we're not the police, and we don't concern ourselves with other matters. But gang members who lead obstruction of official duties must be punished. Anyone who tries to stop them is considered an accomplice."

After the guide finished speaking, Wayne, without waiting for a response, immediately made a hand gesture.

Sanders immediately pulled out his tools, holding a gun in one hand and a thin, locked iron chain in the other, and walked over under Wayne's cover—the detective agency couldn't use official equipment, but the principle of handcuffs wasn't complicated, and there were plenty of similar gadgets in the West.

Some tried to stop him, but hesitated after seeing Wayne's gaze fall on their hands and then their heads. Many others gave up resisting, trying to maintain distance while having to retreat slightly.

The formation gradually changed in silence. The leader, of course, was not going to sit idly by and wait to be killed. He shouted something Wayne couldn't understand, and after his punch missed, he was smoothly pinned to the ground by Sanders.

The scene instantly transformed from a cacophony of chatter into a chaotic uproar, with the leader shouting and the guide trying to break up the fight.
"boom!"

"what--"

A bullet grazed the skin, a stick fell to the ground, extinguishing the last vestige of resistance stirred up by the leader's shouts.
Wayne brandished his gun at the man who was clutching the back of his hand, "You get down too."

This guy doesn't seem to understand what Wayne is saying, but fortunately, human communication isn't limited to language.
Once he followed suit and slowly knelt down with his hands covering his head, the situation was basically under control, with only the leader still cursing. Wayne thought the leader was being a bit too noisy and was about to tell him to shut up when Sanders, who had stood up, gave him a light kick. "Shut up! Or I'll pee on your head in front of everyone."

Huh?! There's actually an expert here?!

Noticing Wayne's expression, Sanders explained sheepishly, "This is a little trick that Liam discussed with us before going to the office. He thought it might be particularly effective on petty thugs—he also said he got the inspiration from some of your practices, boss."

Pah!

I think he's more like someone who's asking for trouble.

……

As it turns out, there are also different levels among people in the "underworld".

The Erlan gang is relatively large among the gangs in the dock area, but their numbers are still small compared to the residents of their territory.
This leads to the emergence of "gang members" who are not actually gang members. They are the kind of guys who say, "Do you know who my brother/uncle/dad hangs out with?" They often have a few like-minded buddies in the neighborhood. They don't commit major crimes, but they constantly cause minor trouble. They are particularly active in calling on their respective gangs.

Take, for example, the one whose skin was grazed by Wayne's bullet.

After the other accomplices were driven away, Wayne mainly questioned him.
Actually, the leader who was tied up under the streetlight probably knew more, and there probably wouldn't be much of a language barrier in communicating with him. However, that guy had already been rendered speechless by Sanders's words, so for now, he'll be left alone to calm down.

After Wayne inquired about the basic situation, he learned that it was the Erlan thugs routinely inciting community residents to expel outsiders. The community members, fearing both being harassed by the thugs and being arrested or forced to pay fees by the authorities, often tacitly agreed and generally avoided such encounters.
Then Wayne continued to ask for more details, "Ask him if there have been more rats in the neighborhood lately?"

"There have always been quite a few rats in the neighborhood..." the guide muttered at first, then honestly lowered his head and chattered away to the person before replying, "He didn't pay much attention to that, but recently there seem to be some rats that look bigger than before."

There seem to be some indications, but they may not be related... We still need to confirm further.

"Does he know the families of the workers who recently died in the accident? Can he take us to their homes?" Wayne pressed on.

After the guide finished translating, the guy glanced at the leader who was being "publicly executed" a little distance away, hesitated for a moment, and then quickly nodded repeatedly.

“Very good.” Wayne gestured to Sanders and spoke to the guide, “Wake him up, we’ll go take a look now.”

The group set off quickly. The henchman led Wayne and the guide in front, while Sanders led the leader behind. Passersby dared not get too close, but there were quite a few onlookers quietly observing.

Even Kansas isn't above the law; why should a mere dock area be an exception?

Let's take this guy for a walk around first, and try to gradually let the public see clearly who is in charge in the dock area: the "red armband" members or the gang members.

After removing the red armband, the detective agency will probably be able to start "recognizing faces".

(End of this chapter)