An American knife seller? No, please acknowledge me as your godfather.

Rust Bar.

When Will Cross arrived at the bar with Mark and several key members of his team, looking very aggressive.

These gangsters, who usually kill without blinking an eye, were all completely stunned by the absurd and exaggerated scene before them.

Every single one of them felt their blood rush backwards.

My blood pressure shot up to 180, and my whole body turned red instantly!

The main entrance of a bar that was once brightly lit, bustling with luxury cars.

It has now been completely transformed into a combination of a septic tank and a mental hospital in a slum.

On the left-hand pillar with the neon sign for the Rusty Anchor Bar, three homeless men, their bodies reeking of sourness, are unzipping their pants and brazenly holding a contest to see who can spit the highest.

The yellow, foamy liquid even splashed onto the tires of a Porsche parked on the roadside.

On the welcoming red carpet at the main entrance, a row of ragged homeless men were squatting there with their buttocks sticking out, engrossed in unloading goods.

There are golden pythons, golden millet porridge, and even non-Newtonian liquids.

The air was filled with a suffocating stench.

On the iron railing next to it, some crazy woman had hung up a lot of used sanitary napkins.

Black and red blood vessels fluttered in the wind and dripped slowly, like a summoning banner of some cult.

Even more outrageous, five or six tattered tents had been erected in the middle of the road at some unknown time.

Several homeless men lay sprawled out inside, snoring loudly.

There was even a completely high-dose lunatic who was performing frenzied performance art naked in the traffic.

"Damn it! That's fucking disgusting!"

"Where's security? This run-down bar is full of these disgusting bugs! Get out of here, get out of here!"

The patrons emerging from the bar covered their noses, their faces contorted with disgust and anger, and jumped into their cars and fled in a panic, as if avoiding a plague.

"My God! Holy crap! These damn parasites!"

"￥#￥##！&*（）&%！"

Mark was furious, his eyes were bloodshot, and he kept spewing out all sorts of foul language.

Not satisfied with just cursing, he suddenly turned around and roared at his underlings behind him:

"What the hell are you all doing! Are you blind? Grab your weapons! Beat them up!"

Consumed by rage, Mark instinctively reached for his heavy sidearm at his waist and was about to fire a warning shot into the sky.

But the gun was only halfway out when it was firmly held down by a strong hand.

Will Cross, his face ashen, lowered his voice and angrily rebuked:

"Calm down! Do you want to destroy the Blood Wolf Gang?! Put that damn thing away right now!"

"Boss!" Mark looked puzzled and frustrated.

Will Cross offered no explanation, only casting a sinister glance around the perimeter.

Mark followed his boss's gaze and suddenly realized what was happening.

Around the homeless people, a number of onlookers had gathered at some point.

These people were all holding up their phones, flashing their lights incessantly, pointing and gesturing in this direction.

"Damn it!"

Upon seeing this, Mark's face stiffened, and he gritted his teeth and muttered a curse under his breath.

We live in the age of social media, especially in front of so many cameras.

If someone takes a picture of you pulling out a gun in public and posts it online, it's practically evidence to send you to the police station.

"Boss! What should we do? There are so many eyes watching us, we can't make a move!"

Looking at the rings of flashing cell phone lights around him, One-Eyed Dexter's expression was as if he had swallowed three pounds of greenbottle flies.

In this situation, using guns is not an option, and physically assaulting people is also not an option; it's incredibly frustrating.

If it were any other time in the slums, he would have already picked up his AR-15 and ripped all those disgusting bedbugs out!

Will Cross, without saying a word, strode forward and grabbed a staggering old homeless man who was passing by.

The old man, wearing a tattered hoodie and with dark skin, blended perfectly into the night; if it weren't for his bright white teeth, he would hardly be noticed.

Dragging the other person to him like a chick, Will Cross looked down at him and demanded, "Tell me! Who ordered you to cause trouble here?!"

However, faced with this terrifying gang leader, the homeless old man merely rolled his eyes and mumbled meaningless words incoherently:

"Wabi Babu... Hehe... Mickey Mouse Clubhouse... Big Hamburger... That's pretty cool..."

Upon hearing this, Will Cross's brows furrowed deeply.

Seeing this, Mark could no longer hold back and grabbed the old man by the collar, threatening him fiercely:

"You old bastard! Speak like a human being! Otherwise, tonight I'll cut you into pieces and throw you into the river to feed the catfish. I guarantee they'll eat you up, leaving not even a bone fragment!"

It's unclear whether Mark's fierce expression and threatening words provoked the old man.

Then there was a loud bang.

The homeless old man's mouth suddenly opened like a fountain.

A thick stream of excrement, mixed with undigested food residue and cheap alcohol, gushed out without restraint!

More than half of the vomit was sprayed precisely onto Will Cross's well-tailored and expensive suit.

The sticky substance in yellow, red, green, and pink instantly dyed the Godfather-style black suit into a colorful black.

Even his shiny Chelsea boots were completely covered in disgusting filth.

Suddenly, an extremely pungent and nauseating stench exploded in the air.

In that instant, the whole world seemed to be put on pause.

Even the air stopped moving.

Mark, One-Eyed Dexter, Lennie, Silas, and the others instinctively showed expressions of extreme disgust, raising their hands to cover their noses.

But when he saw who was in trouble, he seemed to realize something and suddenly stopped moving.

They all lowered their heads in unison, not daring to utter a sound, not even daring to breathe loudly.

"FUCK! I'll fucking kill you!"

Looking down at the indescribable filth on his body, Will Cross's reason was instantly consumed by a raging rage.

With a roar, he drew a golden revolver from his waist, the dark muzzle pressed against the homeless old man's head, and was about to pull the trigger.

"Boss! Calm down! Please calm down!"

Mark reacted first, ignoring the pungent stench, and grabbed Will Cross's arm tightly.

One-Eyed Dexter quickly stepped forward, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and urgently tried to dissuade him:

"Boss, don't shoot! There are fucking cameras everywhere!"

"Get out! Get out! Let me kill him!"

However, Will Cross, with bloodshot eyes, had lost his mind and was roaring wildly as he tried to break free of his restraints.

At this critical moment.

"Snapped!"

A blinding beam of light from a flashlight suddenly shone directly into Will Cross's face from the crowd.

Immediately afterwards, a homeless man whose face was obscured held up his phone and shouted in a hoarse voice:

"Murder! Gangsters have killed someone! Everyone, take pictures!"

In an instant, the image of Will Cross holding a gun became the focus of the entire audience.

Click!Click!

A multitude of camera shutter clicks followed.

"Damn it! Someone come quick!"

Mark quickly called his henchmen to step forward and block the filming view, and swiftly covered Will Cross as he retreated.

In those brief, chaotic seconds, the old black man had vanished without a trace.

"Catch that brat! I want to skin him alive and burn him alive myself!"

Will Cross shook off Mark's support and let out a beast-like roar.

For someone who values ​​his reputation above all else, what just happened was a complete disaster.

Mark and the others looked at each other in silence.

Black people are extremely difficult to distinguish based on their racial traits, especially when the other person is a dirty homeless person.

In the pitch black, with hundreds of homeless people all mixed together, how are you supposed to recognize a face?

Clenching his fists, Mark gritted his teeth and tentatively asked, "..."

"Boss... this can't go on. Our business is ruined. How about... we call the police?"

"You're insane!"

Lenny, who was in charge of bulk cargo, immediately jumped to his defense:

"Our prestigious Blood Wolf Gang, forced to call the police and ask for help from a few beggars? How can we face anyone after that!"

"Besides, don't you fucking know how much contraband we have hidden in our bar? If the police come, our business is completely ruined!"

"Of course I know!"

Mark remained unyielding, staring intently at Lenny: "But right now, besides having the police disperse them, what better way do you have?!"

After saying that, Mark turned to look at Will Cross.

Swish, swish, swish!

The others all turned their gazes toward him, waiting for Will Cross's final decision.

Feeling the gazes of the crowd, Will Cross frowned.

He paused for a moment, about to speak.

"Drip-drip-drip-"

Just then, a rapid and sharp siren sounded from afar.

Several police cars with flashing red and blue lights were slowly driving into the street, piercing the darkness.

At that moment, the expressions of Will Cross and the others instantly became inscrutable.

They all knew that tonight, their Blood Wolf Gang had truly lost face.

"OMG Fuck!"

Lenny cursed and immediately turned and rushed into the bar to destroy the shady stock.

As the sirens grew closer, the onlookers, fearing trouble, quickly dispersed.

Many homeless people also began to take advantage of the chaos to flee.

But these are nothing compared to the large number of customers pouring out of the bar.

Upon hearing the sirens, a large number of customers poured out of the bar.

"What bad luck!"

"I'm never coming to this shabby shop again!"

Although no one knew why the police suddenly appeared, no one who came to this kind of place for pleasure wanted to be questioned by the police.

As he watched the customers disappear like a receding tide, Will Cross's face twitched violently.

He was clearly at the point of exploding.

"Buzzing—"

At that critical moment, Will Cross's spare cell phone in his inner pocket suddenly vibrated.

His expression changed slightly, and he forced back his anger as he took out his phone to answer the call.

After listening for only a few seconds, his bloodshot pupils suddenly contracted, and then he slammed the phone in his hand to the ground, smashing it to pieces!

"What's wrong, boss?"

Mark swallowed carefully.

Will Cross gritted his teeth and forced out a few words, his voice chillingly sinister:

"The underground strip club has been surrounded by homeless people, and the police have arrived!"

……

At the same time.

Haidilao.

The second-floor luxury private rooms.

Annie had returned from the bathroom sometime earlier, her cheeks still flushed.

At this moment, she and Lynn are standing side by side in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

Both of their gazes were focused on the entrance to the Rusty Anchor Bar, a chaotic scene with flashing police lights, located diagonally opposite below.

"Is this what you meant by 'good show'?"

Annie stared at the absurd and comical scene below, her beautiful eyes filled with disbelief.

But at the same time, he turned his head to look at Lynn, quite puzzled.

Lynn nodded slightly, then put his hands in his pockets and spoke in a calm and unhurried voice:

"Rust Anchor Bar may appear to be a nightclub for pleasure, but in reality, it is the headquarters of the Blood Wolf Gang, the biggest scourge in the Red Hook neighborhood."

"The boss, Will Cross, plus five core members including Mark, plus the henchmen responsible for guarding the venue and distributing goods, make up a total of about twenty-five people."

"Smuggling, additives, underground casinos, and even forcing women into prostitution—this group is utterly corrupt."

At this point, Lynn turned his head, his deep eyes filled with a hint of a smile as he looked at Annie:

"Twenty-five people, a complete structure, and a fixed territory... perfectly meeting your chief's criteria for a medium-sized gang of twenty or more. Isn't that right?"

Upon hearing this, Annie's heart suddenly stopped.

Those beautiful blue eyes narrowed instantly, and her breath caught in her throat.

He first glanced at the messy bar below, then turned to look at Lynn, who looked like she was in complete control.

Something suddenly dawned on my mind.

"Could it be that you...?"

Annie's red lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak but hesitated: "You...could it be...that all of these below are you...?"

"That's right." Lynn readily admitted, a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.

"The Blood Wolf Gang beneath your feet is the first big gift I'm preparing to give you."

"How about it? This gift should be enough for you to perfectly explain things to that idiot chief, right?"

Hearing Lynn's nonchalant words, Annie's heart was filled with turbulent waves!

My thoughts wandered, and a complex emotion, difficult to describe, rose in my heart.

She had always thought that Lynn's offer to help her was just a joke to tease her.

I never expected this man to be serious!

Just as Annie was in shock and her thoughts were in disarray, she suddenly felt a tightness all over her body!

A hot, masculine scent suddenly sprayed onto her sensitive earlobe.

Immediately afterwards, the scent of Lynn, a mixture of faint tobacco and a unique, deadly body fragrance, forcefully entered her nostrils, instantly dominating all her senses.

Lynn had somehow gotten up behind her and was very close to her, creating an oppressive atmosphere.

A deep, husky voice, carrying a hint of dangerous allure, whispered softly against her ear:

"This gift, tailor-made just for you... Officer, are you satisfied?"

In an instant, the composure that Annie had barely managed to regain by splashing cold water on her cheeks completely crumbled.

All the muscles in my body tensed up uncontrollably, and my mind went back into a blank, empty state.

At this moment, she could even feel it clearly.

The hot, hard chest of the man behind her was almost touching the back of her thin shirt.

"I'm...satisfied..."

Annie felt her throat go dry and, out of instinct, mumbled something in a daze.

Having gotten the answer he wanted, Lynn's smile deepened.

But he didn't back down; instead, he went even further!

He leaned forward again, pressing his entire body almost completely against Annie's back.

With her lower abdomen pressed tightly against her round buttocks, she could already feel the delicate curve.

"Since you've accepted my generous gift..."

Lynn lowered his head slightly, his lips almost touching Annie's fair nape, his voice low and domineering, brooking no argument:

"Beautiful police officer, shouldn't you keep your promise?"

P.S.: It was originally supposed to be over 5000 words, and it's been under review for so long. I really tried my best!