At 4:20 p.m., the Iceberg Lounge's delivery truck entered Crown Street.
Three black sedans were parked at the intersection ahead.
The first sat across the middle of the road, while the other two hugged the curb. All their doors were open, and twelve Maroni Family gunmen were spread out on either side of the roadblock. Some carried submachine guns, others held short-barreled shotguns, and two were hooking a vehicle-stopping chain onto a fire hydrant.
Their leader stood in the middle of the road, smoking.
"Where's Spider-Man?"
"Nobody's seen him near the Iceberg Lounge."
"He fought for Cobblepot just yesterday."
The leader stubbed his cigarette out on the sedan's hood.
"He can guard the lounge, but can he guard every truck?"
Superheroes, supervillains, super lunatics-whatever.
Their Maroni gang had been on Gotham's turf for so many years. What hadn't they seen? Ever heard of seniority?
Every rolling shutter along the street had already closed.
The people of Crown Street knew the rules when gangs went to work. Once cars blocked the road, it was time to draw the curtains, too. Anyone who took an extra look at a time like this would have an extra medical bill to pay the next day.
Chen Mo crouched behind an old billboard above the intersection and heard every word clearly.
He had followed alongside the delivery truck across the rooftops ever since it left the Iceberg Lounge. Maroni's men had switched tailing vehicles twice and posted lookouts at three intersections. Chen Mo had watched them prepare this entire welcoming ceremony along the way. They certainly had the numbers.
Unfortunately, the quality was mediocre.
He had thought they would at least bring Killer Croc out for a few laps.
The delivery truck rounded the corner.
The driver saw the roadblock and hit the brakes. The