Marvel: Ma'am, I'm your husband's boss

"Damn St. Fisk!"

“Hell’s Kitchen is our home.”

"Yes, that's our home. Even if we don't live in the house, it's still our home!"

"Fisk is a gang member, and the people under him are all killers. They drive the residents of Hell's Kitchen away with impunity. If they refuse to take that little bit of money and leave, they will beat them half to death and then throw them out of Hell's Kitchen alive..."

in New York.

The homeless are a large civil society organization that cannot be ignored.

It’s just that the composition of this non-governmental organization is more complex.

There are people who were forced into bankruptcy by banks.

There are people who voluntarily go bankrupt.

Drug addicts, illegal immigrants, and people who are forced to become homeless for various reasons are the lowest class in New York.

They all wanted to go out to work. After all, there were too many homeless people. They couldn't survive by begging. If they only relied on begging, they would just be waiting to die.

They have nowhere to go.

I don't want to stay in a rescue shelter.

Staying in a shelter is, in a sense, a dead end.

It's not that I was infected with some weird plague.

They will be targeted by certain people as organ donors.

Or they would starve and be beaten by the managers.

It is more painful or torturous than being in prison.

This is a real thing.

And after the previous mayor released the welfare proposal, everyone who is unemployed can receive a living allowance of $100 per week, which is enough for a person's basic three meals a day.

In addition, various charitable organizations distribute meals on the roadside.

The homeless people have even less need to work.

Every day they just need to get up and walk a few steps to get food and money, and then go back to sleep.

Of course, homeless people are not allowed in ordinary communities.

Only those chaotic neighborhoods allow homeless people to sleep on the streets.

Hell's Kitchen is one of them.

Fisk is not prepared to solve the homeless problem for the New York City government.

Hell's Kitchen will no longer be a place for homeless people to live in.

Fisk hung up the phone, confused.

He called Lester again, but it took a long time before anyone answered.

Lester's voice was very soft, as if he was hiding in some enclosed space.

Russell's voice could be heard faintly from below.

Lester listened.

He immediately said, "Boss, we can't be careless about this matter. The propaganda power of newspapers is very strong. Once we are identified by the newspapers, we will be passive. I have just finished reading the whole process and wrote down the names of these newspapers. I will send them all back to you later."

Then Lester said, “Boss! The mayor has been in contact with members of human rights organizations recently.

I just saw a lot of homeless people being invited to the mayor's residence. I suspect they might organize a parade. Once the parade starts, the mayor can blatantly mobilize the police to enter Hell's Kitchen."

"A parade?" Fisk narrowed his eyes. "A bunch of homeless people?"

“If homelessness became popular, no one would pay attention.

But if human rights organizations come in, it will be different.”

After hanging up the phone, Fisk fell into silence. He suddenly reached out and pulled Mina into his arms. Feeling the little lamb's panicked movements, a smile appeared on Fisk's lips.

"Interesting, interesting!"

-----------------

Night fell quickly.

Mr. Dell, the boss and editor-in-chief of the Wall Street Journal, finished the cocktail party and headed home drunk. For a newspaper boss, Mr. Dell rarely gets drunk like this. But today's cocktail party is different. It is a recruitment cocktail party held by the new mayor who is about to take office.

Also called the mouthpiece cocktail party.

This new mayor is different from the previous one. He was parachuted in and did not bring any propaganda tools.

The Wall Street Journal's market share in New York has always been focused on economics, and the readers are all Wall Street elites. Not many people buy it, and the sales volume has always been mediocre. Faced with the olive branch thrown by the mayor, Mr. Dale naturally had no reason to refuse.

He became the mayor's campaign manager.

And planned a scene where the mayor would show up in front of reporters.

No one knows better than him what the citizens of New York want to see.

He has already sent someone to write the manuscript.

The first page of tomorrow morning's newspaper will say that the mayor of New York bravely declared war on the powerful mafia...

"Boom!"

At this moment, I suddenly felt a strong push on my back from behind.

Mr. Dai Le was very drunk and hit his head hard on the passenger seat. Although it was a soft leather seat, it still left a big bump on his head.

He looked back with some anger.

But then I realized something was wrong.

The SUV that hit them from behind had no intention of braking and kept pressing against the trunk of his expensive Mercedes-Benz, causing the sedan to lose its ability to move independently and could only be pushed forward. The driver in the passenger seat wanted to step on the accelerator to speed up, but there was another collision from the side.

Another SUV hit from the side.

It was not until the Mercedes-Benz crashed into a street lamp that the two SUVs slowly lost power.

Fisk walked down.

He reached out and threw a bag of dollars onto the car.

Another bag of dollars was scattered on the ground.

Then he nodded to the two black guys behind him.

Without any hesitation, the two black men immediately stepped forward and pointed their guns at Mr. Dai Le and the driver. With two soft bangs, the shotgun bullets turned the two men into a hornet's nest, and the splattered blood fell on the banknotes inside and outside the car.

After confirming that the guy was dead, Fisk turned around and left without a second thought, but the two black men started picking up the dollars on the ground and left in the opposite direction of the SUV...

Mr. Donep did not have a driver, but drove home by himself. This did not mean that he did not drink a drop of alcohol at the cocktail party. In fact, he drank half a bottle of champagne. However, champagne is not intoxicating, and he was conscious, so he decided to drive home by himself.

When he got close to the bridge, he decided to get off to get some fresh air.

His newspaper sells better than the Wall Street Journal.

The Wall Street Journal is, after all, a specialized financial newspaper.

The buyers are regular white-collar workers.

Therefore, there is no risk of bankruptcy.

However, Tanep's newspaper was a complete imitation of the British Sun.

They wanted to gain traffic by skirting the rules, but who would have thought that the United States, which considers itself more democratic, would have such poor sales when faced with a newspaper similar to The Sun.

Although it is not on the verge of bankruptcy, it is hovering on the edge.

However, this time he also successfully joined the mayor's campaign team.

He seemed to see that his newspaper would be reborn.

Stand on the edge of the railing.

Looking at the river below, he suddenly wanted to sing a song.

But he had just opened his mouth.

A black shadow suddenly fell from the sky.

Then, before Tanep could react, he flew high into the air and crashed vertically into the gravel-covered beach. With a sound of bones breaking, the mayor's campaign team lost another person...

-----------------

early morning.

"Dong dong dong."

There was a knock on the door of the room.

The young reporter walked in from outside.

As soon as he came in, before he could say anything to the editor-in-chief sitting behind him, he couldn't wait to say, "Boss, why didn't the manuscript I wrote yesterday pass the review? Is there something wrong?

By the way, I received news that there will be a parade in Hell's Kitchen soon.

The San Fisk real estate company, which is the one I wrote about in yesterday's manuscript, is controlled by the Mafia. Not only did it forcefully purchase the real estate in Hell's Kitchen, it also plans to send all the homeless people to shelters. This has attracted the attention of human rights organizations, and they plan to organize a large parade for the homeless people.

This is a good opportunity, a good opportunity to increase our sales.”

"What are you going to do?" The editor-in-chief pushed his glasses and looked at the reporter in front of him. His tone was a little cold, but the reporter seemed to be completely unaware of it and continued to say excitedly: "People nowadays are relatively indifferent and live in a cold city. But they all have hidden sympathy. To some extent, they just lack a way to stimulate it.

We can definitely play the pity role for the homeless, thereby arousing people’s current indifference and letting them speak up for justice!

This will definitely greatly increase our sales!"

"is it?"

"Of course, I am confident. This is a good opportunity and I am confident enough."

Facing the young reporter's words.

The editor-in-chief silently took out the paper on the table and glanced at the reporter in front of him, "Dio, if I'm not mistaken, your middle letter should be D!

Dio D. Tipras?"

"Yes, editor-in-chief, but D is silent!" The reporter became even more excited. He thought that he was going to sign some kind of appointment letter, giving him full responsibility for the matter.