Bang, bang, bang!
The silence of the winter night was shattered by a series of gunshots.
Maria Hill pulled the power switch, watching Bucky crash through the glass window and into the suddenly darkened room.
This was followed by a volley of gunshots, curses, screams, and the sounds of fists hitting bodies, even bones breaking, which were not unfamiliar to her.
She couldn't help but feel a pang of worry.
But with the room pitch black, she dared not rush in.
She grew increasingly puzzled and couldn't understand why Johnny, unarmed and without night vision goggles, had asked her to cut the power and then charged in. How could he dare? What was the difference between that and seeking death?
Yet, the continued gunshots, bullets piercing wooden walls, and the flashing lights from the windows all indicated that Bucky was fine.
Of course, Bucky was fine.
With Target Lock and low-light vision, he charged in as if entering an unmanned territory.
And with the subcutaneous armor, which now made him virtually bulletproof, he had shed his last psychological burden.
As long as the enemy didn't have anti-materiel sniper rifles, grenade launchers, or rockets, then even if bullets hit him, there would be no problem. What was there to fear?
Just go all out!
Completely unleashed, Bucky fully embraced the Winter Soldier's relentless and ferociously powerful combat style.
Facing enemies, he showed nothing but courage and ferocity!
Like a tiger entering a flock of sheep, he charged through, knocking them down one by one with a single punch amidst their fear and screams!
Screams? Yes, screaming like a little girl watching a horror movie.
Among them was a muscular man, over six feet tall, but this man was surprisingly timid. While others were afraid, at least they could fire a couple of shots when they saw Bucky's silhouette, that black shadow charging towards them.
But this guy screamed like a little girl seeing Freddy Krueger, clutching his head and squatting defensively.
However, it was precisely because of this that he was temporarily spared.
PIA! PIA! PIA!
"Stop hitting me, stop hitting me, Boss, please stop!"
It would have been better to be knocked out with one punch. Bucky grabbed him by the collar with his left hand, and the big man, weighing over 170 pounds, was lifted into the air and slapped repeatedly with both hands.
The damage was extremely high, but the humiliation was even greater.
The muscular man promptly broke down, his pleas for mercy turning into sobs.
Bucky stopped his actions, turned on his flashlight, and swept it around the ground, allowing the other party to see his masked and goggled face. Then he lowered his voice and asked coldly, "Who is your boss?"
"Huh?"
The muscular man was stunned.
PIA! PIA! PIA!
"Who is your boss?"
"He! It's him!"
The muscular man truly cried. He thought it was an enemy, but it turned out to be a lunatic?
You don't even know what we do, and you just came and took us all out?
Is there still law?
At this moment, the muscular man really wanted to call the police, saying that a madman had forcibly entered a private residence and violently assaulted him, causing him indelible physical and mental harm.
PIA!
Bucky slapped him one last time, knocking him unconscious.
"Still, I should go in and check!"
Outside, Hill was standing in the cold, hesitating whether to go in, not even noticing that the gunshots had stopped for a while.
Just as she muttered to herself that it was troublesome and was about to pull out her gun and rush in, she saw a shadow leap directly from an open second-story window.
Bucky, carrying a man on his shoulder and a small backpack in his hand, descended from the sky without making much noise.
"Go."
"You are..."
Indeed, he was going to be a thief, no, he was going to be a bandit, no, and a kidnapper? Does this guy even acknowledge her, a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent?
"Let's go first."
Gunshots continued to ring out, and the area was already bustling, with lights turning on in several nearby houses.
But in the dead of night, even with a person on his shoulder, Bucky's stealth was silent. He simply carried the person and quietly slipped away.
He stuffed both the person and the travel bag into the car's trunk and drove off.
He even stopped at a public phone booth because that area was controlled by a gang, and no one was willing to call the police, so Bucky made the emergency call himself.
Near the Brooklyn Bridge, by the river fence.
"Wake up, this is ~ Johnny!"
Bucky woke up the tied-up boss, not by teasing him like Skye, but by slapping his face and staring at him with a Shining expression.
He hadn't originally intended to bring this boss along; he had just planned to leave after the fight.
But while he was fooling Hill just now, as he was doing so, Bucky's heart stirred.
This person who bought washing powder must have a supply channel, and this was a very small street gang. He probably didn't find the source himself; he must have an upstream supplier, a larger gang.
Instead of stopping here and then going to the streets to brush up on those who robbed bags and money, why not do something bigger?
"You, how dare you do this to me? Do you know who I am, ma Fake?"
The boss was slapped awake, yelling in pain, anger, and fear.
"Are you Hitler's brother-in-law? Or Stalin's second uncle?"
"Huh?"
"If not, what the hell are you so awesome about?"
PIA! PIA! PIA!
Hill, watching Bucky's unreliable interrogation from the side, couldn't help but twitch her lips. She felt that she had heard more slaps than gunshots tonight.
"Stop! Ma Fake, stop it! I'll tell you, isn't that enough?!"
"Speak!"
"I... ma Fuck, what do you want to ask me? Ah! Don't hit me anymore!"
Bucky didn't care about the boss's curses, knowing that it was their habit. Don't look at how other races curse them, it's immediately discrimination, but they themselves are full of ma Fuck, and even call each other 'nigga' to show racial superiority.
But Bucky just wanted to hit him.
And his attitude of asking nothing, just looking like "I'm just bored and hitting you for fun," with a mentally disturbed expression, really made the boss psychologically collapse.
"I'm with Boss Kevin from 18th Street!"
So when Bucky asked him who his upstream contact was, he blurted it out without hesitation, with a hint of indignation.
—That's it? That's all you're asking me? This is something anyone on the street could find out by just asking, okay?
"You clearly have no future. Of all the people you could follow, you follow a twisted one. Tell me about your boss's situation."
18th Street, of course, wasn't selling twisted dough sticks, but referring to Boss Kevin, who came from Brooklyn's 18th Street district, which was also the stronghold of his gang.
The 18th Street Gang was also the largest washing powder distributor among the gangs in Brooklyn. All the washing powder in the African-American communities throughout Brooklyn was distributed by them, but outside their gang's territory, it was distributed to smaller gangs like this boss.
"Very good, thank you for your cooperation. However, I still need you to do one last thing for me."
"What is it? Tell me, I promise to do it."
"Simple, I need you to die."
After Bucky finished speaking, he suddenly pushed the boss, whose hands and feet were tied, into the river.
"Hey!"
Hill shrieked, then became exasperated, wanting to blurt out a ma Fake. You, in front of me, a dignified S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent, directly execute someone?
Is there still law?
ADVANCE CHAPTER AVAILABLE IN PATREON
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