Foot Clan

Having sorted out the whole story, Jude also found Ivy's image surfacing in his mind.

The two of them probably had not seen each other for a long time. All Jude had was the image of Ivy in prison: a girl with messy hair and a slovenly appearance, looking to be in terrible mental condition. She had probably not been treated well in prison.

After giving it some thought, Jude decided to look for Ivy after all, if only to give this body one final sense of closure.

Bang, bang, bang!

A sudden knock sounded at the door, followed by someone roaring outside.

"Jude Herbert, I know you're in there! Open the door!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Several more violent knocks followed. The old door could not withstand them and was forced open with a crash. Five tattooed men barged in, their hair disheveled and their builds all different—tall, short, fat, and thin.

Jude had expected this. He had dismantled the Chevrolet classic car; it would have been strange if the Foot Clan had not come looking for trouble.

He opened the refrigerator, cracked another beer, and chugged it down before leisurely saying, "Foot Clan?"

"That's right, us. Kid, what happened to your car? Why did it turn into a pile of scrap metal?"

"I took it apart."

The five men froze for a moment before suddenly flying into a rage. "Why did you take it apart? Do you know how much it was worth? Now it's completely ruined! You owe me three hundred thousand dollars—no, three million!"

Jude dug at his ear. "Sorry, but I believe I only owed you three thousand dollars."

"It was three thousand originally, but you idiot destroyed my car. It's worth three million now. If you can't pay, I'll take anything off you that can be sold, including your liver!"

Still looking unconcerned, Jude wagged a finger. "Let me make something clear. First, that was my car. Second, no one is taking my liver."

"Then let's see about that! Grab him!"

The five men had intended to swarm him, but the cramped apartment gave them no room to maneuver, so only three lunged forward.

Watching their clumsy movements, the combat memories of Grandpa Rick inside Jude instantly activated. But his current body was too weak for hand-to-hand combat. A gun would be more convenient.

He took out the still-warm miniature laser emitter and lightly curled his finger. A blinding beam of white light shot out, instantly punching through one man's chest.

"Ah..."

A scream burst from his mouth. The other four watched in horror as a hole as wide as a bowl appeared in their companion's chest. Then it began spreading outward, like paper burning from the center in all directions—except not a single drop of blood spilled. The sight was utterly terrifying.

Fortunately, the horrific wailing did not last long. Not because he had endured it, but because he was already dead.

"OMG!"

"FUCK!"

"What did you do?"

Jude spread his hands. "Nothing. Just self-defense. Though his internal organs probably can't be sold anymore. What a pity."

"Kill him!"

The minor boss roared. While the other three charged forward, he turned and fled toward the back. What a joke. The thing in Jude's hand looked dangerous as hell. Only an idiot would stay here.

But just because he wanted to leave did not mean Jude would let him go. After merging with Grandpa Rick, Jude felt neither guilt nor hesitation about killing, especially when killing bad people. It seemed like the most normal thing in the world.

With only three pulls of the trigger, the three Foot Clan thugs collapsed to the floor. Jude then chased out the door and saw the minor boss frantically pressing the elevator button. But he lived on the sixth floor, and the elevator display showed it was on the fifth. Too bad.

Seeing Jude come after him, the minor boss cried out and turned toward the stairs, shouting, "Don't kill me!" But after taking only two steps, he fell to the ground with an identical gaping hole in his body.

After dealing with the Foot Clan lackeys, Jude blew on the laser emitter and grinned. "Not bad. One shot, one kid."

Ding!

At that moment, the elevator arrived on the sixth floor, and the doors opened. Banderra, the elderly woman living across from Jude, looked at everything in confusion.

Frowning, she asked, "What are you doing, Herbert? What happened to this man?"

Jude fell silent for a moment. The air became rather awkward.

"Barbecue, get it? I'm having a barbecue party. Banderra, you should go rest after coming back from shopping. You're too old for young people's activities."

"But why is he lying on the floor?"

"Uh... he drank too much. That's why he drank too much. Go home already."

As he spoke, Jude hauled the minor boss up from the floor and carried him back inside.

"Herbert, I saw a hole in your friend's body. A very, very big hole. Is he dead?"

"You're seeing things again, Banderra. Go home. Your cat Nancy has been waiting for you for ages. I can hear it meowing through the door."

"Really? Then I need to hurry home and feed her, my precious darling. Maybe my eyes really are failing me in my old age. Otherwise, why have you suddenly gotten so much older?"

Jude dragged the minor boss's corpse inside. With five extra people suddenly in the small apartment, it felt rather crowded.

I hope Banderra doesn't go around talking. But I can't leave the bodies piled up at home. I need to dispose of them. I'll have to mix up some chemicals.

With that in mind, he began searching the bodies. Unfortunately, the mobs were too weak and too poor. In the end, he only got 233 dollars—better than nothing.

After locking the door, Jude hummed a tune as he headed to the convenience store downstairs.

When it came to disposing of bodies, strong acids and bases were naturally the most useful. But that was only in theory. They often left behind quite a bit of residue, did not dissolve things quickly enough, and most importantly, had an intensely pungent stench. Jude could not stand that.

As a genius scientist, he naturally had more and better methods in his head.

"Oil of Olay, disinfectant, baking soda, MSG, and a bottle of vinegar. Sixty-seven dollars altogether."

"Jude, looks like you're planning a feast," the chubby Black cashier teased.

"Indeed. A real feast. I've got five salted fish waiting for me to pickle them."

Next, he went to the pharmacy and bought alcohol, nitroglycerin tablets, a box of cough syrup, and a bottle of Rofecoxib, spending another 101 dollars. The materials were complete.

The things he had bought looked ordinary and common, but every one of them contained chemical compounds. According to Grandpa Rick's knowledge, mixing them in certain proportions could create a chemical reagent that dissolved corpses at incredible speed, all while being colorless and odorless.

As the sun slowly set, sizzling sounds came from Jude's small apartment. It sounded like someone was cooking, like flames heating cooking oil.

Glug, glug...

The five corpses rapidly dissolved. Jude drank beer as he watched, unable to help marveling at the terror of knowledge so far beyond this era. The technology stored in his mind was far ahead of modern society.

At least, far beyond the technology modern society had publicly revealed. As for major organizations and companies like S.H.I.E.L.D., A.R.G.U.S., Stark Group, Wayne Group, and LexCorp, he believed they were certainly no weaker—perhaps even stronger.

What he needed to do now was gather materials and make some useful equipment, so he would not suddenly die in this danger-filled world. He also needed to train his body and improve his hand-to-hand combat skills.