Come On, Let's Burn New York to Ashes!

Chinatown.

By the time Rorschach returned home, Aunt was still overseeing the restaurant renovations and had not come back.

He dug out his sling bag and packed the Catachan Combat Knife and Plasma Pistol inside.

Rorschach changed into a new set of clothes and Military Boots.

Then he took a stack of cash from the duffel bag beneath his bed, intending to leave.

Before heading out, however, Rorschach still sent Aunt a text.

After explaining that he was about to go do some "part-time work,"

Without waiting for Aunt to reply, He switched off his phone and tossed it onto the bed.

Rorschach left the apartment and began making preparations.

Against the core members of an entire gang, His proven killing skills and the devastating Plasma Pistol would be enough to handle them.

Still, Rorschach needed a few auxiliary measures.

To prevent them from scattering and escaping.

So, as the things Rorschach purchased piled up, He had no choice but to buy another hiking backpack to carry them all.

Once he was done shopping, Rorschach walked down the street and immediately felt unbearable hunger gnawing at his stomach.

He looked around.

Then found a roadside hot dog stand.

And began eating like mad.

For a while, the vendor nearly could not make hot dogs as fast as Rorschach could eat them.

After wolfing down fifteen hot dogs in a row, Rorschach paid the bill under the vendor's awestruck gaze.

Then Rorschach turned to leave, but before he had taken more than a few steps, A pleading voice suddenly called out from behind him:

"Excuse me, sir, could you please take a look at this missing-person flyer?"

Rorschach raised an eyebrow and turned around.

"Mike?"

"Uh... Rorschach?"

Standing before him was the apprentice and errand runner from Delicious Chinese Restaurant.

The Black man, Mike.

Because the current Rorschach was practically a completely different person from before, Mike had not recognized him at first.

It was only when Rorschach spoke

That Mike gradually matched the Rorschach in his memories with the one standing before him.

"God... young people going through puberty really are miracles of life."

Mike blurted out in admiration.

"Maybe. Mike, still no news about your brother?"

Smiling, Rorschach took the flyer from Mike's hand and asked politely.

At the same time, he lowered his head and glanced at it.

Perhaps to keep costs down, the flyer was extremely crude.

It had only a black-and-white photograph and contact information.

The photograph showed a young Black boy with a missing front tooth, A raised left hand, and a congenital deformity of the ears.

Whether because of those deformities or the bright smile on his face, The boy was striking at a glance.

"No news at all... it's like he vanished off the face of the earth."

Mike's face was filled with anxiety and exhaustion.

He gave a bitter smile and said:

"Mom is close to a mental breakdown, so I have to step up. It's just that Jerry has been missing for So Long..."

Mike did not finish his sentence.

But Rorschach understood what he meant.

Rorschach nodded silently.

He folded the flyer a few times and slipped it into the crossbody bag slung across his chest.

"Didn't you try asking the media for help? You saw the recent big news, right? Now's the perfect time to make the media pressure the police into putting in some effort."

"How could we not? But every news outlet is surrounded by parents trying to publish missing-person notices..."

Mike shook his head and let out a helpless sigh.

"Those wealthy Black and white families can go on TV and tell heartwarming stories about their homes, but ordinary families like ours from poor neighborhoods can only get a tiny missing-person notice printed by most media outlets... It's better than nothing."

After hearing Mike's words, Rorschach was left speechless.

After thinking for a moment, he took a small stack of bills from his pocket.

It was the money left over from his shopping—fifteen hundred dollars.

After Rorschach kept five bills for himself, he stuffed the rest into Mike's hands.

Mike's mouth fell open in shock, and even his dark skin seemed to flush red.

He repeatedly refused. "No, no, no, Rorschach... This is too much!"

"Mike, take it. Consider it an advance on your wages." Rorschach smiled. "Aunt is still waiting for her tool-apprentice to get back to work."

"Thank you!"

Mike's Eye Sockets seemed to grow moist.

He choked up, but forcibly held it back.

"Thank you. I just don't know how I'm supposed to thank you..."

"Finding Jerry will be the best thanks. Don't say anything else..."

"After all, friends are supposed to help each other, aren't they?"

Rorschach answered with a serious expression.

Once Mike stopped refusing and carefully put away the money, Rorschach said goodbye to Mike

and turned to leave.

He still had important "part-time" work to do.

Hell's Kitchen, Baby Department Store.

As the third-generation leader of the Tracksuit Gang, Fatty Bobby not only had the physique of an enormous wild boar, but his way of doing things was much the same.

Greed was his feeding instinct.

Brutality was his breeding urge.

That was why he had been able to control the entire gang.

At least, that had been the case a few days ago.

Now, Fatty Bobby could only curl his bloated body into a dust-covered sofa.

While frantically eating with elegant movements, he stared at the phone in front of him.

He had been waiting for a call.

A call from the Underworld King.

A call that could save his gang business.

A call that could save his life.

Yet even after the sickeningly sweet tomato macaroni had filled Fatty Bobby's massive stomach, the phone still had not rung.

Fatty Bobby gradually sank into despair, overwhelmed by pain.

In that instant, he understood.

The Tracksuit Gang that had once dominated New York had been abandoned.

The Underworld King's gang empire.

It did not want to draw any more attention from the public or the authorities.

The Tracksuit Gang had to disappear!

Both physically and spiritually.

"Trash! You're all a bunch of trash!"

At this moment, the plump fat on Fatty Bobby's cheeks trembled nonstop.

Bang—

With a vicious expression, he smashed a can of tomato macaroni onto the floor.

Thick dust mixed with the macaroni's red sauce.

It looked like a puddle of shattered, bright-red organs.

"Fuck the Underworld King! Fuck the NYPD! Fuck the citizens of New York City!"

"I, Bobby, am the true king of this city!"

"The King of New York!"

As time passed.

Fatty Bobby's eyes turned bloodshot, and he looked utterly deranged.

Even the fat all over his body shook violently.

It was as if the crushing pressure of reality had driven him into a mental breakdown.

Just then, Fatty Bobby struggled to his feet.

Moving his legs, he charged out of the mall room like a rampaging wild boar.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The heavy footsteps drew the attention of the gang's core members downstairs.

With varying expressions, they raised their heads and stared at Fatty Bobby on the mall staircase.

"I announce that tonight... tonight, we're going to give New York City a big 'surprise'!"

Staring down at everyone with bloodshot eyes.

Fatty Bobby slowly raised his hands and clenched them into fists.

He howled crazily:

"Do you want fresh food to eat?"

"Do you want to sleep with beautiful women?"

"Do you want to walk freely beneath the sunlight?"

"So what if the police are hunting us?"

"So what if the Underworld King abandoned us?"

"Are we supposed to be afraid?"

"We're the gang that ruled New York! We still have plenty of weapons and ammunition!"

"Come on! Come on! Bring your guns and join my mad party!"

Spittle flew everywhere as Fatty Bobby raved, as though Hitler himself had possessed him.

However, his impassioned speech failed to stir any emotional response.

The silent gang core members exchanged glances.

A few inexplicably chilling traces flickered deep within their eyes.

At this moment, Fatty Bobby stood on the stairs, gasping heavily and drenched in sweat.

He keenly noticed the undercurrent rising among the silent gang core members.

A crazed, sinister grin appeared on Fatty Bobby's fat face.

"Anyone willing to attend the party will split the gang funds in the warehouse equally!"

"As long as you want it, we can divide the money right now!"

"After the party, if we get results, the laundered funds in the overseas accounts can also be—"

"Split equally!"

Before Fatty Bobby could finish.

The nearly forty gang core members all revealed understanding smiles.

Click-clack—

The crisp sounds of countless guns being cocked almost merged into one.

"Come on. Let's burn this city to ashes!"

Hell's Kitchen after night fell.

It was as though it had entered another world.

In the dark corners of countless buildings, men and women who had struck deals

made unabashed sounds of pleasure.

Along the long-neglected streets, drug dealers carrying automatic rifles set up stalls by the roadside.

As if to attract customers, strings of colorful little bulbs hung above the vehicles that served as mobile stalls.

They were both discreet signs and part of the business atmosphere.

Ragged homeless people, heavily made-up urban white-collar workers, and even youthful-looking students appeared one after another, joining the carefully selected line of shoppers.

At the same time, chaos and order found a way to coexist peacefully, choosing to fall together.

This was merely a glimpse of Hell's Kitchen's daily life.

Hell's Kitchen, a paradise and holy land for criminals.

Yet unlike the streets crowded with people on the outskirts, the deeper one went into Hell's Kitchen's neighborhoods, the more dilapidated the streets and buildings became.

Even the lights decorating the windows grew fewer and fewer.

By the time one entered an even more run-down street, even the lights had disappeared.

Other than homeless vagrants

or criminals burdened with major cases, probably no one would be willing to live somewhere without even water or electricity.

Baby Department Store stood amid such a pitch-black neighborhood, like a silent behemoth.

This large supermarket, which had once nurtured generations of Hell's Kitchen locals, was now completely abandoned.

Even the parking lot outside had, under the watering of the rain, sprouted patches of lush grass tenaciously clinging to life.

Rustle, rustle, rustle—

The waist-high grass swayed constantly, accompanied by soft rustling friction.

Rorschach, who was carefully crawling forward, revealed himself.

At this moment, his head was tightly wrapped in a Red Bandana.

His face was covered by a gas mask.

He also wore a black waterproof coat.

At the same time, Rorschach held a lightless black Catachan Combat Knife in a reverse grip.

He had hidden the faintly glowing Plasma Pistol in his coat pocket to avoid exposing it.

There were no signs that Baby Department Store had electricity.

Only the occasional flashlight beam flashing past the windows and the faint noisy voices drifting out

unexpectedly revealed the situation inside.

The poor little man had not lied.

This was the Tracksuit Gang's hideout.

Rorschach's eyes flickered slightly behind the gas mask.

His crawling movements became even more cautious.

A few minutes later, the soundless Rorschach reached the store's front entrance.

He hid in a corner and raised his head slightly.

He looked into the mall through dust-covered glass.

Between rows of abandoned shelves.

In a cleared-out open space.

Around thirty Slavs were holding flashlights as they cleaned their guns and loaded ammunition.

Nearly every one of them wore a bulletproof vest.

Some even had military helmets on their heads.

Pistols, submachine guns, automatic rifles.

There was even a heavy machine gun propped atop several crates of ammunition.

Meanwhile, grenades were taken from the boxes one by one and laid out before them.

From time to time, someone stepped forward to pick one up, hang it on his chest, and show it off to the companions around him, laughing heartily.

What were they planning to do?

That much firepower was enough for a fierce street battle.

Had the New York City police driven them insane?

Were they planning to go down together?

Rorschach carefully kept himself hidden.

His eyes behind the gas mask were filled with confusion.

However, just as Rorschach was about to circle around and infiltrate from behind.

A fanatical voice suddenly rang out from inside.

Drawing his attention once more.

"Brothers! Are you ready?"

"Ura—"

"Ready!"

"Haha, I can't wait any longer!"

Fatty Bobby, clad in an oversized bulletproof vest, glared with bloodshot eyes.

He swept his gaze back and forth over his eager, impatient subordinates in the dim light.

Driven completely mad, he could not help but reveal a twisted, vicious grin.

Tomorrow morning.

All of New York would be shocked!

The entire country—even the whole world—would be shaken!

That damned Underworld King wanted to hide?

Wishful thinking!

I, Fatty Bobby, will use the lives of countless New York City residents to drag you out into the open!

Even if the entire gang is wiped out and the federal government launches an investigation afterward.

Those filthy dealings will be exposed to the light of day!

Underworld King.

You'll become a stray dog too!

Slavs never surrender!

"Very good! I've already distributed all the money in the warehouse to you!"

Fatty Bobby's flushed face split into a broad grin.

The fat on his cheeks trembled incessantly with excitement.

"Now, it's time for you to repay me!"

"There is only one target: shoot people dead! Do whatever you want!"

"Do everything you've ever wanted to do!"

"Before this, the smuggling ship has already docked at the Hudson River port."

"If all goes well, you'll board the ship with me and head out to sea, where we'll share even greater wealth!"

"Ura—"

Fatty Bobby abruptly raised his fist.

He shook his arm wildly, crying out without pause.

"Huh?"

Just then.

The excited Fatty Bobby suddenly noticed—

A head-sized blue orb of light flashed over the shelves and flew straight in front of him!

Bang—

I won't split the four thousand words today. I caught a cold and have a bit of a headache.

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