Miss Assassin is heavily addicted

Chapter 90, Section 6: The Bloody Purge
The headquarters of the Rose Street Police Department.

As the sun set, He Ye returned here, slowly got out of the police car, as if going home.

The bricks on the exterior walls have turned white, and the lush flower bushes were recently trimmed; several police officers are chatting on the steps in front of the police station, smoking cigarettes and looking relaxed.

The police headquarters, located on Rose Street, has been part of the city for fifty or sixty years.

He Ye had only been here a short time, but he already knew which spots were sunny and where he could fish. Looking at the familiar scenery around him, he sighed and realized that another day had passed.

Darren, who had also gotten out of the car, had already taken out a cigarette and lit it.

A thin layer of white mist drifted upwards with the wind.

"Phew... I can finally get off work."

Darren, who had managed to resist smoking in the car, felt a great sense of relief. He leaned against the car and rested for a while. Then, when he met He Ye's gaze, he kindly walked over to him and offered him two cigarettes. The brand of cigarettes was "La Sirena," the most popular mass-market brand, similar to Furongwang in China.

He Ye waved his hand politely.

“That’s rare. Don’t let stress build up and be released elsewhere—” Darren smiled, holding a cigarette between his fingers. “One day you’ll understand how good it is.”

"Thank you for the advice, thank you for the advice."

As He Ye spoke, he casually walked into the police station. People were coming and going at the police station entrance after get off work. After clocking out, they planned to go for a drink nearby and have dinner.

However, as the two passed the door of the interrogation room—

Lucia and the eight-year-old boy she had brought back earlier appeared there, standing there like idiots.

Without a doubt, their eyes met.

Lucia first gave a slight salute, then lowered her right hand upon seeing the two and said:

"Good evening, Commander Darren and Mr. Leon. There are some procedural issues regarding the robbery this afternoon."

"Ok?"

Darren made a questioning sound and stepped forward, while He Ye thought that getting off work might be delayed and followed.

Lucia continued, her voice calm:

“The boy we arrested is an undocumented black man. If we want to detain him, we need your signature, sir. But the boy next to me is a minor. Even if he committed theft, it's not enough to put him in jail.”

"So now, Mr. Yuri and I don't know what to do. Please give us instructions."

Lucia recounted the entire process methodically, holding the hand of the boy next to her whose fingers were blackened, her expression unchanged.

During the half hour that He Ye and Darren were on their way back, she and Yuri had learned the whole story.

The boy was an orphan and had no blood relation to the boy. According to him, he had simply found the boy and couldn't make ends meet by working himself to the bone at the odd jobs market, so he turned to crime.

Lucia's signature implies that Darren needs to take responsibility for this black man.

Once he is imprisoned, the length of his imprisonment is not determined by the crime he is guilty of, but by when the inmates think he has reformed enough to be released—usually for decades, sometimes even for his entire life, because he is free labor without human rights.

However, if someone claims him afterward, the person who signed the document is often held accountable.

"Tsk...so sticky?"

Darren also looked disgusted, and after thinking for a moment, he said:
“If this little boy isn’t an undocumented immigrant, send him home. As for the teenager, first check if he was abducted. If so, I’ll sign the papers and send him in. If it’s just robbery, detain him for a couple of days for education and release him.”

“Hmm…” Lucia pondered, “Yes.”

She gave a final salute to indicate her compliance.

He Ye stepped forward and pinched the little boy's cheek, realizing that his plan to leave work early was ruined and he would have to stay a little longer. He offered to take the boy to his parents, but the little boy rejected the offer before he could finish.

"My brother is very good to me... He, he's not a bad person!"

"..."

"I don't want to go home!"

The officers exchanged glances. Darren sensed something was amiss and raised an eyebrow at Lucia. Lucia explained that they had only interrogated the boy, and even if they did, they might not get any information from such a young child.

Just then, Yuri walked out of the interrogation room, looking bewildered, pulling the door shut.

“Um… I think we should let him go.”

Yuri scratched his head, his eyes darting around, holding a statement book in his hand, which recorded the whole story. It was rare for him, who was always so righteous, to say such a thing.

……

—Deep in the Kebo neighborhood—

7 p.m.

In a narrow alley, a stray cat was gnawing on a dead mouse, while a crow stood on a telephone pole, watching intently.

This is deep inside the slums.

Tilted wooden houses stood on both sides of the road, sewage flowed out of the overflowing ditches, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of rotting garbage, cheap alcohol, and urine.

A lone moon hangs high in the sky.

The lighting was dim, with only a few broken streetlights casting a sickly yellow glow.

Jürgen Helmer walked slowly down the road carrying a shovel. His hunched back made him look frail, and even his breathing sounded worryingly labored.

Walking alone on the Mole Gang's territory would undoubtedly attract attention.

Leather boots trod across the muddy ground.

It wasn't raining, but the road was still disgusting (due to the damaged drainage ditches on both sides).

"Hey old man, are you lost? Do you even know where you are?!"

The sudden, furious shout came from a man crouching near the metal sheet, who brandished a crowbar in his hand, threatening him.

The man's name was Rico, a doorman for the Mole Gang, and an orphan born and raised in the Cobello neighborhood.

Having spent his childhood roaming the streets, he honed his unorthodox fighting skills. Due to the recent chaotic situation, he was invited to join the Mole Gang and become the watchdog of the Mole Gang headquarters.

Anyone who's ever hung out here knows his nickname, "Nail." Nobody wants to mess with him, so with him guarding the gate, most thugs will keep their distance, and anyone who comes in won't dare cause trouble.

"I just wanted to ask for directions."

Jorgen's hoarse voice sounded quite eerie.

The watchdog Rico frowned and began to curse:

"Old man, this is not a place for you. Asking for directions? Go ask those drunken idiots! Don't get in the way!"

"Hehehehe..."

Jorgen smiled strangely and strode forward.

Seeing that the hunchbacked man was not afraid of him at all, and even made strange noises, Rico felt a bit strange. Looking at the shovel that the man was dragging on the ground with his left hand, he felt even more inexplicably afraid.

However, this is the headquarters of the Mole Gang, and he is not afraid of troublemakers. He only needs to give an order!
A single command?

"Bang! (Sound of something hitting the wall)"

"Ugh..."

Before Rico could even realize what was happening, a rough hand grabbed his forehead and slammed him against the wall beside him, sending blood and gravel flying everywhere!

Jorgen grabbed his face with one hand and lifted him up, leaving his feet dangling in the air, like an earthworm being pulled from the ground.

"You have no patience, fine, I have no patience either."

Tell me, who is the underground boss here?

"I want to talk to him about some business."

Jorgen's hoarse voice sounded like the death knell's dirge, so close to his ear that it made the watchdog Rico lose his mind. He couldn't even utter a word; the concussion from the impact made him feel like he was about to die!
"Inside...inside..." "Our leader...is..."

"Crack." Jorgen crushed his skull impatiently, his voice hoarse. "Thanks—I understand."

Suddenly, Rico's struggling legs drooped limply.

"who!"

The noise outside attracted the people inside to come out, and a few thugs came out, cursing and swearing!

Jorgen turned his head and tossed the guard dog onto the muddy ground beside him as if it were trash. The dog was lifeless and motionless. Upon seeing this, the two thugs who had come out first were so frightened that they wet themselves.

"Someone's causing trouble!"

"Hey, someone come quick!"

"Ugh! Ugh!"

The noise attracted the attention of more people inside. At least a third of the Mole Gang members were here. This place was both their headquarters and a black market workshop for making moonshine. After "Baplo" died, most of their underground activities were scattered outside.

"What happened outside?"

"It looks like someone's attacking. It might be the Brotherhood of Shattered Bones!"

"court death!!"

The people inside were already in combat mode, grabbing iron bars, crowbars, and chains; some even picked up pistols and cocked them!
Inside one of the rooms, the scarred man, hearing the commotion, raised an eyebrow.

He stood up.

Once known as "Baplo's Tiger" and the top thug in the loan company, he joined the Mole Gang after the Mafia fell apart, becoming their right-hand man and still enjoying immense power for the past two months.

"It's up to you, Caron."

Inside the room, a middle-aged, one-eyed man, with one hand pressing down on the slave woman beneath him, spoke calmly. He was the leader of the Mole Gang.

“Of course.” Pavlo’s tiger pushed open the door and came out.

What's truly chilling is—

At that moment, raindrops pelted his face.

No, that's not rain, that's blood.

The darkness was as black as ink, which was terrifying.

A hunched figure stood alone before the rusty gate.

The weathered old man, wielding an entrenching tool and resembling a bizarre monster, was wreaking havoc.

The tip of the shovel pierced a man's chest, and the cracking sound of the injured man's ribs breaking was sickening.

The thugs who were besieging him had not yet discerned the extent of his strength; they were simply driven by bloodlust, their eyes bloodshot.

"He killed Mike!"

A bald thug roared as he swung his chain, which had already struck!
Jorgen released the shovel handle with his right hand and turned to take the blow with his left arm, which was covered by a thick jacket.

Almost simultaneously, his left hand gripped the entrenching tool handle still embedded in the corpse, yanking it out with a spray of blood! With a swift 360-degree turn, the heavy shovel blade slammed into the third attacker's head like swatting a fly!
puff!
With a muffled thud, the bald man's skull shattered like a watermelon.

Less than four or five seconds.

Three gruesome corpses lay at the entrance.

Only Jorgen's entrenching tool was still dripping blood.

The remaining thugs were stunned by the horrific scene of slaughter, and for a moment they dared not step forward, while the Tiger of Baplo trembled and retreated.

Since being defeated by an unknown mysterious man two months ago, he has lost his blind confidence, and the current situation seems abnormal!
It's scary, even terrifying!

A thug hiding behind clutter tries to aim an old-fashioned pistol.

But Jorgen reacted incredibly quickly. After noticing it, he suddenly threw the entrenching tool like a tomahawk!
The shovel spun out, its heavy blade striking the gunman's hand precisely, instantly shattering his fingers and the pistol!
The man let out a piercing scream.

"Ouch! Ouch!"

But Jorgen had already charged forward with incredible speed, unlike an old man with rickets. The thugs around him fled as if avoiding a plague. Jorgen stepped on his throat, bent down, pulled out his entrenching tool, and without hesitation, chopped down, ending his life.

Then, in this dimly lit underground workshop,

In his hands, the entrenching tool transformed into the scythe of death.

Chop, slap, hook, stab.

The shed had been transformed into a real slaughterhouse, with severed limbs flying everywhere and blood staining the ground and walls.

Screams, the sound of bones breaking, and the horrific sound of entrenching tools tearing flesh were incessant.

Jorgen was like a tireless war machine, each swing of his shovel inevitably bringing up a splash of blood. He was covered in sticky blood plasma, as if he was enjoying this "murder game".

For this sapper who retired from the battlefield, war was a game of killing. This ingrained habit had evolved into a psychological desire. After becoming an agent of the C Country Special Affairs Bureau, he once again had a legitimate reason to kill.

S-class agent of the Iron Curtain Special Intelligence Bureau of Country C.

Operation codename: "Saving Engineer"

Meanwhile, Baplo's Tiger had already fled in a panic, crawling out the back door without any intention of resistance. He had only one thought: to join another gang! Like the Iron Crocodile Gang!
The mole gang leader, completely unaware of the situation, walked out with a frown.

The screams outside were so annoying that he couldn't get anything done. He assumed that two groups of people had been injured, but when he looked around, he saw only a hunched old man standing in the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood in the underground workshop.

My underlings are either dead or wounded.

"Hey! What the hell!" He stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

Jorgen shook his head and revealed a creepy smile. He walked over to him through the blood, scaring the mole gang leader so much that he lost his balance and fell to the ground.

"W-who are you?!"

"I'd like to do some business with you," Jürgen's hoarse voice laced with amusement. "You're the boss here in the slums, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not the head! I'm not the head!"

"That's it..."

A sound of regret arose.

Then there was a click.

The battle is over.

The shed was deathly silent, except for the sound of blood dripping to the ground and panting as if enjoying themselves. More than twenty corpses were scattered around in various contorted positions, and the entire underground workshop had been washed in blood in every corner.

Jorgen took out a torch, mixed it with alcohol, lit a fire, and burned everything inside.

He pushed open the door and walked out, strolling once again into the depths of the Cobolo neighborhood, just to find the head of the neighborhood to talk to about something, something that required their help.

Just then, a woman wearing a hoodie walked out from around the corner.

"You've gone too far, Jorgen. What if those people from the Enforcement Bureau notice?"

“It’s perfectly normal for a few rats to die in the slums; they won’t care,” Jorgen replied in a deep voice. “How’s your situation going?”

"...There seems to be no one in charge here. As far as I know, the biggest gangs are the Mole Gang and the Iron Crocodile Gang, which were wiped out two months ago."

"Is that so...then we'll have to organize it ourselves."

After a moment of silence, Jorgen noticed that Nightingale was alone; their team should have had other members...

Seemingly sensing the captain's confusion, Nightingale lowered the brim of her hoodie and whispered in reply:

"Charles has already visited the Iron Crocodile Gang."

(End of this chapter)