Muholland Drive in Latveria was the territory of "Limping" John.
Everyone who knew him knew that he had trained and served in Poland's Thunder Special Forces. Later, one of his legs had been blown off in a terrorist attack, forcing him to retire and return to his hometown.
But none of the thugs and hooligans along the entire street dared offend or mock John's limp. That was not only because he worked for the great warlord Lazio, but also because he had once crushed the previous gang boss of Muholland Drive's head with his bare hands.
At the Mole Bar across the street, Limping John had gripped a bald man's head between his palms and squeezed his eyeballs apart with his thumbs. His hard skull had cracked beneath his grip. The bloody, violent scene had been so intimidating that, even today, many still talked about it over tea.
John lounged in his executive chair, counting the mountain of cash piled on his desk with a pleased expression. He was no longer the gang leader who fought and killed at the front lines himself.
On the surface, this fierce-looking cripple was the owner of a transportation company in Latveria. In secret, he ran the highly profitable business of illegal smuggling. He had more than a thousand men under him, and the old cars that raced through the streets every day mainly made their money transporting drugs and contraband for the gangs.
Besides John, there was also a Russian named Levandov who controlled an arms factory and was likewise one of Lazio's trusted lieutenants. It was said that the great Warlord himself commanded an armed force backed by the old nobility. This tangled chain of interests formed Latveria's dark underworld.
"Ring, ring, ring—"
The shrill telephone rang through the luxurious office. Limping