Jefferson was in a very bad mood after being played with, but he still patiently exchanged a few words with Zuo Ci.
Just this afternoon, the booming business of this shop had attracted the attention of the Falcone gang, who ruled this neighborhood.
Because Zuo Ci had never paid protection money and was not part of their mortal enemy the Maroni Family, this group naturally wanted to teach him a lesson and let him know how things worked.
As it turned out, the men sent over in the end were all beaten to a pulp and thrown into a neighborhood dumpster, and even the thugs who went along with firearms were tossed into the neighborhood dumpster together.
Furthermore, without exception, all of them had been stripped bare-it was just way too damn humiliating.
It was precisely because of this incident that the bigwigs within the Falcones had also been alerted, so they specifically dispatched Jefferson over.
The first thing he needed to do was rope the other guy in as much as possible. After all, a lot of spandex-clad freaks had been popping up in Gotham lately, and coupled with those two bastards Harvey and Gordon constantly targeting the Gangsters, they desperately needed heavy-hitting muscle to hold down the fort.
That was why Jefferson had acted so civil. Under normal circumstances, anyone who dared to mess with him like this would have already gotten their head split open.
"Oh, I get it, paying respects to the local boss, I get it, I get it. Just give me a second."
Zuo Ci slapped his forehead and immediately bent down to rummage around for something under the counter.
Jefferson watched the suddenly enlightened Zuo Ci, a sneer welling up beneath his snake-like, sinister gaze.
Looks like this brat isn't completely stupid. Just wait, kid. Once you join up, I'll definitely take good care of you.
"Right, here it is. Take this back to the Godfather."
After finding the item, Zuo Ci straightened up and handed the piece of paper in his hand over.
"Huh? What is this, a check?"
Puzzled, Jefferson lowered his head to look at the slip of paper in his hand, only to see thirty thousand dollars written on it, with a time marked in the bottom right corner: exactly midnight three days from now.
What kind of nonsense was this?
"Hey, it's written as plain as day: starting this month, you guys are going to pay me thirty thousand dollars in protection money every month.
All right, take it back and finish your errand. I'm sure the Godfather himself will be very happy."
"Huh?"
For a split second, Jefferson was utterly bewildered. He even suspected that someone had mixed some kind of Enhancement Drug into his cigar and he was hallucinating from smoking it.
Then, the very next second, Jefferson-having snapped back to reality and figured out what was going on-suddenly turned red in the face and instantly drew his pistol from his waist.
"Are you playing me, you asshole?!"
"Yeah. Otherwise, what did you think I was talking to you this much for? Just for fun?"
Zuo Ci spread his hands in an innocent gesture, and Jefferson turned even redder.
"I... Ah!!!"
Just as Jefferson hadn't even finished his harsh words, Zuo Ci pulled a Boxing Glove Gun straight out of nowhere. After he pulled the trigger, the oversized fist on the muzzle punched him directly out of the shop door, sending him crashing heavily onto the trash-filled street.
"You... You motherf..."
"That's enough, that's enough. Your lines are already trash-tier enough, no need to showcase your identity any further."
Before a pain-racked Jefferson could finish speaking, Zuo Ci squatted right down beside him. After looking him up and down for a moment, he fixed his gaze on Jefferson's mouth.
"Come to think of it, has anyone ever told you that you have a real talent for being an ashtray?"
"Huh?"
Without waiting for Jefferson to react, Zuo Ci reached out, picked up the still-burning cigar from the ground, and then pried open Jefferson's mouth, slamming it straight down against Jefferson's tongue.
"Mgh!!!"
The intense burning sensation coming from his tongue made Jefferson writhe uncontrollably, but under Zuo Ci's control, he couldn't move an inch.
"Not bad, not bad. I told you you had talent.
All right, let's call it a day here. Remember, the time written on that paper is the final deadline. If I don't see the money by then, pray that God has mercy on you.
Now, get lost."
Having received a severe beating, Jefferson didn't dare say another word. He just clutched his mouth and hobbled far away, not even daring to look back.
"Done. Let me see what time it is... Oh shit, my noodles!"
"Damned bastard, who does he think he is!"
With a smash, an unopened bottle of high-end red wine-a single sip of which cost as much as an ordinary person's monthly salary-was hurled violently against the floor and shattered.
Yet everyone present, including a disheveled Jefferson kneeling on the ground, paid it no mind. Their attention at this moment was entirely fixed on the enraged "Godfather"-Falcone.
Present City of Gotham, although gradually marching toward a mad future, was still largely an era of the mob. And the Falcones remained the undisputed apex predators of the underworld.
The ruler of this vast black empire today was none other than this seemingly aged Falcone.
"Godfather, you don't need to be angry. Leave this matter to me; I'll bring back the head of that fellow who doesn't know how to show respect."
The first to speak was Lucas, who had only recently been promoted to a high position. He was hot-tempered, irritable, impulsive, and brainless, yet vicious and utterly unconcerned with whether he was "clean" or not.
He was also one of the few members within the gang who had been beaten by Batman more than three times and still dared to fight him head-on.
"Calm down, Lucas. It's not your time to step up yet."
Having smashed the bottle, Falcone's anger receded quite a bit, and his sanity, which had nearly been lost, reclaimed his brain.
Thus Falcone waved a hand, signaling Lucas to step back. Although Lucas was extremely reluctant, he didn't say anything.
The old dragon was still around, so it wasn't his turn as a gnoll to speak up.
"I am angry, that goes without saying, but I also know that one must not let anger control oneself.
He is an impolite fellow, that goes without saying as well. But think about it carefully, gentlemen: when has a lion on the savannah ever been willing to serve as another's slave? They are always full of pride."
At this, Falcone paused slightly. Once upon a time, he seemed to have been just such a lion-that proud, that ferocious, that admirable.
Yet what about now? He himself looked like a hyena stopping at nothing.
You've grown weak, old man...
"Godfather, does that mean we're just going to let him off like this?"
Lucas, whose education level wasn't particularly high, felt a slight headache coming on. He couldn't quite grasp Falcone's meaning, but he roughly understood that the old man didn't seem prepared to deal with that damned Asian.
"Let him off? No, no, no, my child. A lion is proud, but it is also nothing more than a beast at the end of the day.
Facing this lion, if we kill it with a hunting rifle, all we will get is a useless corpse. To truly possess it, what we need are iron cages, whips, and an excellent animal tamer.
Only by taking our time can we make him willingly jump through the ring of fire."
At this, Falcone couldn't help but sigh inwardly. If it had been ten years ago-no, even three years ago-he wouldn't have been so mild. Back then, Zuo Ci would probably have long since been chopped up and fed to the fishes.
But now, he couldn't do that; the times had changed.
Gordon, Harvey-those idealists made him sick. Why couldn't they just quietly take money and stay silent like the old days?
And then there was Batman, along with those completely brainless, unhinged spandex-clad freaks. They never followed the rules, throwing the entire city into utter chaos.
It was precisely because of these blows from both the underworld and the righteous side that the Falcone Gangsters were long past their prime, even faintly showing signs of a towering building on the verge of collapse.
Under these circumstances, he had no choice but to compromise with the situation. He needed these equally abnormal "freaks" to maintain this crumbling castle.
And Zuo Ci happened to be the talent he needed. Therefore, he would indulge him just a little bit.
"I understand, Godfather. I will bring you back a loyal lion."
This time, the one who stepped forward was Mark. Unlike Lucas, he was an old-guard senior member, carrying the same steady presence of a traditional mobster as Falcone.
If Falcone wanted to finish Zuo Ci off, Mark wouldn't speak up; in matters like that, he couldn't compare to a hot-blooded newcomer like Lucas.
But if it was just about bringing someone over, that was much simpler.
If he remembered correctly, that Asian named Zuo Ci was running a shop, right? Since he had a shop, that meant he had attachments, and where there were attachments, there were fatal weaknesses.
He would go back and look into the man's family later. Family members were often the most useful playing cards.
"Mm, that's for the best."
Seeing that the matter was mostly settled, Falcone prepared to head back to rest. Ever since he had grown old, he rarely stayed up this late anymore.
Smash!
Yet just as he rose to his feet, the windows of this secluded parlor burst apart without the slightest warning, and immediately afterward, several grenades with their safety pins already pulled were tossed in through the window.
"Get down, quick, get down!"
"Protect the Godfather, hurry!"
"Fack! Fack! Fack!"
Before you continue