New Gods of North America.

Chapter 682 Choice
"They are both my brothers, Rowan and Osin. Rowan is a little more timid and not as impulsive as Osin, but he rushed over to protect Osin, so he was hit by more bullets."

Because Wayne had saved their youngest child and clearly meant no harm, he was treated as a guest despite one young woman expressing dislike for a stranger.
The person sitting on the terrace with Wayne at this moment was the eldest son of their generation, who was also the gang leader most likely to get information out of him.

Many houses in the dock area don't have the luxury of a "balcony"; they've basically enclosed any space that can be used as a room.

This terrace was made from beams extending from the house. A few planks were tied to it, and a rope was strung up from the top, so people could climb out of the window to dry their clothes—actually, there was no window, just a square opening in the wall for hanging planks to block the wind.

To be frank, the incident happened because they went out to attack another gang outside the community last night; it was as if they were ambushed.
If we set aside emotions, according to the law or the detective agency's assessment, even if they hadn't died young, they at least deserved to die.

However, while Wayne was rational enough to let the gangs kill each other, he also had no personal grudges against them.
Listening to what this guy named Ryan was saying, and hearing sobs and words of comfort from time to time, the detective agency's established policy would not change because of this, but people still felt a little sad.

Ryan spoke for a while, then fumbled for a cigarette case and matches on his person: "These were left by Osin. I don't usually smoke this stuff, Mr. Wayne, would you like one?"

Wayne, who usually wouldn't even touch the cigars in the cupboard, actually reached out and took them.

He puts it in his mouth, lights the match, then pretends to do it, while watching the other person cough repeatedly from the choking.

Feeling that the small talk had gone on long enough, Wayne finally spoke up from the sidelines: "There was an incident at your gang's docks before, and we found some of the bodies today. Do you know about that?"

“I heard about it from others afterward, but I wasn’t there at the time.” This guy clearly knew Wayne better than the other family members, so it sounded like he understood better what Wayne wanted to ask.

Wayne tried to blow a smoke ring, but failed. He continued, "Do you know of any other similar things?"

Ryan O'Brien became more careful with his wording: "I can't betray the gang. What exactly do you want to know?"

"Don't worry. I don't need to ask you about smuggling and tax investigations; we have several future top lawyers or accountants handling those cases. We don't concern ourselves with your gang infighting; we only protect the innocent—but I want to ask, have you ever helped strange outsiders smuggle themselves in? Ordinary illegal immigrants don't count."

"Strange outsiders?"

"For example, the night of the last dock accident, so many people suddenly died, and some of the bodies were even specially disposed of. Don't you find that strange? Anything similar counts."

Ryan O'Bourne hesitated for a moment after listening: "There aren't many cases where people die... Mr. O'Sullivan does sometimes give instructions that need to be kept secret, but I'm afraid I don't know the information you're looking for. That's usually handled by the gang's strategist; I'm just a small-time boss."

Willie initially obtained that information from the prosecutor, and now that Inessa mentioned it, the cathedral has probably already arranged for someone to investigate.
It's hard to say whether high-level wild extraordinary individuals will be released anytime soon.

It's kind of darkly ironic, really. O'Sullivan didn't get taken down for attacking Wayne and the cathedral monks, and the tax situation is still unresolved, yet he might actually be brought down prematurely by this very issue.
The life of a gangster boss is truly full of surprises.

The detective agency is now limited to working from the lower levels. Wayne asked the gang's strategist which of their underlings hadn't gone back to the police station with them.

The guy hesitated for a moment, then finally gave him two names that should still be alive, though they were probably no longer home—they'd sneaked out again to fight violence. Feeling he wouldn't get any more information, Wayne dusted himself off and prepared to leave, planning to try his luck at the next place.

Before leaving, he suddenly had an idea and turned back to ask, "If you could have foreseen today's situation and been given a chance to choose again, would you still have joined the gang?"

Ryan O'Bourne had probably thought about this before, and without hesitation, he said, "We don't really have a choice. If we don't join a gang, the other gangs won't treat us well either. Joining at least gives us a chance to deal with them."

"That's because our detective agency didn't come before."

Wayne turned around again, raised his hand and pointed in one direction, "I'm planning to set up a cannery over there, specifically for producing luncheon meat and such, and maybe even expand into new product lines."

"But before that, I hope the gangs in the dock area can become more civilized. There can still be competition among them, but illegal means must be prohibited."

"If you're interested, you can consider working for me in the future. I won't arrange for you to attack anyone in the middle of the night, and if anyone is bullied, I will do my best to bring the bad guys to justice."

Ryan O'Brien was slightly taken aback after hearing this: "I didn't expect you to be an idealist. No wonder the strategist in our gang said that he couldn't figure out the purpose behind some of your actions."

Ignoring his sentiments, Wayne steered the conversation back on track, "So, are you interested?"

Ryan O'Bourne tilted his head slightly, his gaze seemingly piercing through the wall into the living room:

“I still have things to do, so I probably won’t have the chance. But if possible, I would like Owen to get a proper job—he’s getting more and more mischievous these days, and last time he almost got into trouble because he sneaked out in the middle of the night. Speaking of which, I haven’t thanked you for your help yet, Mr. Wayne.”

Tch, looks like this approach isn't appealing enough. I'll have to go back and think about how to refine my wording. Maybe I can try someone else next time.

Wayne had lost interest in Ryan O'Brien by now. He waved his hand and prepared to leave. "That's something we wanted to do ourselves. No need for thanks. You just need to cooperate."

After thinking for a moment, Wayne turned back again: "I feel you're relatively easy to communicate with, so I'll just remind you one more time. Our detective agency doesn't intend to get involved in gang fights, but we won't allow innocent people to be harmed. Whatever you want to do, please don't cross the line, or you might die at the hands of my men."

If that were the case, the story would be a bit too complicated for the little Owen I saved earlier.

If he were a bit more oblivious, it would be easier to handle; he could just go straight to the detective agency for revenge and then be sent to the police station to reflect on his actions.
If he is both sensitive and kind-hearted, then being caught between his savior and his brother's killer might cause him to develop inner demons.

That's not healthy.

Ryan O'Bourne seemed surprised that Wayne would be so blunt at the end. He slowly lowered his head and nodded, it was unclear whether he had taken it all in.

(End of this chapter)