Bones of Steel!

Chapter 40: Bones of Steel!

That night, the three vampires were packaged up and sent to Stark Industries' secret laboratory.

After throwing up, Stark was exceptionally clearheaded. He had already come up with several promising ideas for vampire-specific weapons. He needed some test subjects to verify their effectiveness.

Director George was immensely satisfied with how things had turned out. Even in his wildest dreams, he had not imagined it would go so smoothly. Delighted, he went back to prepare a team dedicated to dealing with vampires. Of course, he first had to go to Washington for that meeting whose purpose no one seemed to know.

Alvin did not rest over the next few days either. He was no savior; he could not charge into the vampires' lair alone and wipe them all out.

But Alvin was a man of action. I may not be able to deal with all the vampires in New York, but I can keep all of Hell's Kitchen clean. He would keep his family, the children, and the students at the school safe from vampire threats.

With actual specimens as a reference, the ghost wolves could easily sniff out the scent of vampires. During the day, Alvin could take the ghost wolves street by street, drag out the vampires hiding in dark corners, and let them soak up some sun. It was no challenge for him.

When Alvin led the three ghost wolves, "Athens," "Rome," and "Sparta," onto the first street beyond his own territory, all of Hell's Kitchen became like a wok of oil into which water had been poured, boiling and erupting.

Big and small gangs throughout Hell's Kitchen spread the word and went on high alert. Everyone in Hell's Kitchen knew that although Alvin was the boss of three blocks, he hated gangs.

If Alvin intended to expand his territory, a lot of gangsters might bleed and disappear, just like those from the former 25th Street. Even now, no one knew where the gang members who had once been there had gone.

Alvin stood at the entrance to 27th Street and looked at the dozen or so cars blocking the road not far ahead. More than twenty men, who looked more like workers than gangsters, held guns and peeked out nervously from behind the vehicles.

A call came in. Alvin looked at those men with amusement. Gangsters this timid were rare indeed. He answered the phone.

"This is Alvin. Who is this?"

"Yes, I'm standing at the entrance to 27th Street right now. What, do you have a problem with that, Kingpin?"

"Oh, yes, we had an agreement. So what? Just because we had an agreement, I'm supposed to stand here and wait for you, you son of a bitch, to come over? Hmm?"

"Mm, if you'd told me earlier that you were calling as a school board member, I wouldn't have been so rude. I'll wait for you, then. You'd better bring everyone in Hell's Kitchen who has a say. I can perform a magic trick for you."

"Okay, okay. I'm not a gangster, and I have no interest in your so-called territory. Mr. Board Member, today's matter has nothing to do with territory. I guarantee it."

After hanging up, Alvin waited for a while before a short, fat, bald Irishman with a red nose jogged over.

Alvin knew him. He was the boss of this street, and his name was Clark Gable. A third of New York's fake shoes passed through his hands before being sold.

Though his appearance did a fine name like that a disservice, he was a decent enough man. At the very least, Alvin had never heard of him doing anything especially heinous.

Clark jogged up to Alvin, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and cautiously invited him into an Irish bar.

The bar had not opened yet. Clark sent away the equally panicked owner and personally brought Alvin a cup of coffee.

Alvin smiled at Clark, who stood off to the side like a waiter, and said, "You don't need to be nervous, Mr. Gable. I'm not here to cause trouble today. Have a seat. We have time to chat, and maybe we can even make a deal."

Clark froze for a moment. He was actually a businessman. It was just that companies selling counterfeit goods were illegal in the United States, so he had put down roots on 27th Street with a group of men who were less gang underlings than factory security guards.

Clark did not actually dislike Alvin. Sometimes, he wished a giant wolf wandered his street too. That way, he could save a great deal on hiring enforcers.

Driven by a businessman's instincts, Clark asked, "What kind of good deal does Boss Alvin have for me?"

Alvin rubbed his nose and said a little sheepishly, "Clark, you know about the community school, right?" Seeing Clark nod, he continued, "Our children still don't have proper uniforms. That's very bad for establishing the school's image. You're in the clothing, shoe, and hat business. You should understand that this is a good deal."

What was there not to understand? This deal was wonderful. A school with over a thousand, nearly two thousand children—winter and summer uniforms every year, two pieces per set, replaced annually.

Everyone knew Boss Alvin was a fair man. This was not a business discussion. He was practically handing over money!

Clark excitedly wiped the sweat from his brow. He did not even ask what price Alvin would offer. He decided that even if he took a slight loss, he would secure this deal.

But the uniforms had to bear the "Gable" brand. If the teachers at the school needed them, he could make suits too. Besides, he had never heard of Alvin letting anyone lose out in business. The people who supplied ingredients to his restaurant always got paid in cash.

"Tomorrow, Boss Alvin. Tomorrow, I'll bring samples to your restaurant. As long as a style exists on the market, I have it all.

My second son is in seventh grade at the school. He's a defensive end on the school football team, and I sponsor all the team's uniforms and shoes. Don't worry, I'll definitely give you the best materials."

Alvin nodded with a smile. He already had some fairly developed ideas for what the uniforms should look like, though the students probably would not like them much.

Without saying anything more, Alvin waited calmly for Kingpin to arrive. He had to slaughter a couple of vampires in front of them before these country-bumpkin gangsters would set aside their doubts and let him walk his big dogs around their territory without concern.

Soon, the bar door was pushed open, and a noisy crowd filed inside. At their head was a fat Black man over two meters tall and weighing more than 150 kilograms.

The last time the gang bosses had gathered in such orderly fashion had been during the community school's "principal election."

Kingpin wore a gold suit with a green shirt underneath. His gleaming bald head looked freshly waxed, reflecting the sunlight streaming in through the door. Strangely enough, this New York underworld kingpin looked extraordinarily honest and simple—big eyes, a big nose, thick lips. In different work clothes, he would have looked more like an honest farmer than a gang boss.

Kingpin held a cane with a huge gemstone set in its head, looking every bit the part. With a wave of his hand, he had the people behind him spread out and take their seats.

His heavy footsteps made the bar floor creak. Like some enormous beast, Kingpin ignored the pitiful chair's protest and dropped into it. He stared silently at Alvin, waiting to hear what he had to say.

He was very afraid of Alvin because he knew Alvin possessed strange abilities that could take his life at any moment. But he could not retreat. He was the city's underworld kingpin. If he backed down, other ambitious gangs would descend on him like sharks smelling blood and tear him apart.

Alvin actually admired Kingpin. This man had climbed from Hell's Kitchen to become New York's underworld kingpin by stepping over the corpses and blood of his rivals. He had always known what he needed to do, regardless of the consequences.

Just like now—even knowing that offending Alvin would bring no good outcome, he still had to sit before Alvin and negotiate with him. To him, losing his position was more frightening than losing his life.

Perhaps that was the hallmark of successful people from Hell's Kitchen. I may be bad, but my bones are hard!