Dick couldn't believe the Puppet People in front of him were real.
"Holy shit, what the hell are those things?"
The White-Clad Men walked lifelessly toward Maroni's men, their arms hanging down, guns dangling from their hands.
At the sight of those things, neither human nor ghost, Maroni's men opened fire.
Gunshots erupted in the narrow street.
The bullets struck the White-Clad Men, making their bodies sway slightly under the impact.
But they didn't fall. They didn't even stop...
The White-Clad Men raised their guns too.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized, like a dance troupe: raise, aim, pull the trigger. Three shots rang out.
Two of Maroni's men went down, one clutching his chest, the other his leg, howling in pain.
"How are those guys not even afraid of bullets?" Dick hurriedly stuffed the rest of his pizza into his mouth.
A passerby came running from the other end of the street, screaming. He was a middle-aged man in a brown coat, and the snow slowed him down.
One White-Clad Man turned, took two steps toward the passerby, reached out, and grabbed his arm.
The man struggled and screamed. The White-Clad Man reached out with his other hand too, gripped the man's arm with both hands, and pulled in two opposite directions.
The man's arm flew off his shoulder and landed on the roof of a car parked by the curb...
Blood spurted from the man's shoulder onto the White-Clad Man's white mask. That blood-streaked mask stared coldly at the fallen man, unmoved.
"Oh, hell no." Dick pulled up the hood of his blue delivery uniform, covering his head and half his face, leaving only his bright eyes exposed.
He pushed open the car door, sprang lightly out, rushed up to the White-Clad Man, and drove his fist hard into