Two o'clock in the morning. The Bronx, Arthur Avenue, the heart of Little Italy.
Inside a secluded manufacturing factory hidden deep within the neighborhood.
Hertz, short, fat, and with a round face like a small potato, paced back and forth. His reflective, black-framed glasses occasionally revealed a flicker of anxiety.
Beside Hertz stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with a square face—a Russian bear of a man. It was Hammerhead.
Unlike Hertz's anxiety and fear, Hammerhead's expression was one of contempt and calm.
"Little potato, stop pressing it. You're about to break that phone. It doesn't matter who the enemy is, just face them."
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I can't reach a single one of them!"
Hammerhead's disdainful tone made Hertz even more frantic and angry. He smashed his phone to the ground.
Then, Hertz shot a vicious glare at Hammerhead. "Was it you? Damn it, you're trying to set me up..."
Hammerhead stood up from the wooden crate, his gaze filled with contempt for Hertz.
"..."
Hertz pushed his glasses up, his bravado fading. "Hammerhead, don't get me wrong. What I mean is, you know how important tonight's shipment is to Mr. Wilson."
"If something goes wrong with this shipment, neither of us will escape. We'll both be dead."
"You'd better think carefully. When the delivery was made tonight, were you followed by the Demon Gang?"
Hertz's weakness slightly abated Hammerhead's anger, but his suspicion still annoyed Hammerhead greatly.
"The Demon Gang isn't that capable. Not even if Martin Li himself made a move."
"What's more, I value this shipment even more than you do. I handled the loading, escort, and transport all by myself."
"You should think hard about who you've offended."
"To silently take out dozens of your strongholds, not even Baba Yaga could do that."
Hammerhead was just hard-headed, not brainless. It was obvious from Hertz's words that he was trying to drag him into this mess.
But Hammerhead had no desire to provoke a super-assassin capable of sweeping through more than a dozen blocks and wiping out over a hundred violent gang members in a single night.
After saying his piece, Hammerhead prepared to leave.
But just before he could walk out the door, a barrage of gunfire erupted from the factory outside the office.
In an instant, Hertz scrambled behind the sofa, while Hammerhead pulled a gun from his coat and moved to the side of the window.
Pistols, submachine guns, automatic rifles—the sounds of various firearms merged into one.
At one o'clock, when Hertz couldn't contact the partners at his strongholds, he had almost immediately gathered the majority of his elite gunmen at the factory.
With dozens of guns laying down suppressing fire, the morale of the men inside the factory was high.
Hammerhead finally relaxed a bit and shot a disdainful look at Hertz. "Idiot, what's the use of hiding behind a sofa?"
"If the Corleone family is full of cowards like you, you should go back to Italy and eat shit."
"The person attacking tonight is definitely a super expert. Your men won't hold out for long."
"Listen up, coward. If you don't want to die, have your men turn on the searchlights and leave no blind spots. Then take out all the toys you have hidden in your office."
"You'd better grow a pair, and quickly. You're going to need them soon."
Hammerhead's scolding made Hertz's face turn livid, but he was well aware of his own limited abilities and didn't object.
A few moments later, under Hammerhead's command, the numerous gunmen divided into three overlapping fields of fire and quickly formed a simple defensive formation. They all took cover and ceased firing to reload.
Unlike an insidious, survival-focused bastard like Hertz, Hammerhead had genuinely fought his way up from street shootouts and possessed more grit and experience.
At the same time, in a hidden corner to the left of the factory entrance, Roy was complaining to himself. His luck was really not that great to have run into Hammerhead secretly making a delivery to Hertz.
Hammerhead had been able to fight against a super-powered individual like Martin Li for years; his experience and ability were no joke.
Fortunately, he had always adhered to the guiding principle of "strategically despising the enemy, but tactically taking them seriously."
If he hadn't brought a large amount of enchanted equipment, dealing with dozens of guns under a skilled commander might have actually been difficult.
Complaints were complaints.
The instant the gunfire stopped, Roy leaped out like a cheetah, a custom M1911 in his left hand and a revolver in his right.
Rune Bullets - Explosion.
Rune Pistol - Precision Activated.
Moving and shooting.
Rune Shoes - Lightness Activated.
A tiger unleashed.
Six explosive bullets instantly shattered a large swath of cover in the factory. At the same time, 17 regular bullets, without a single deviation, precisely struck the foreheads of 17 elite gunmen.
Before the remaining gunmen could even react, Roy had already cut into their ranks.
He tossed aside the empty revolver.
Roy's hands whipped behind his back; he had already swapped magazines and drawn his matte dagger. Like a surging flood dragon, he used both gun and blade, slaughtering his way through the crowd.
The gang gunmen didn't have Roy's pinpoint accuracy and hesitated to shoot for fear of hitting their own men.
And in those few breaths of hesitation, their numbers were nearly wiped out.
A terrifying feast of slaughter, like a magnificent waltz of gun-fu.
The moment Hertz saw Roy, his face turned deathly pale, then filled with viciousness. He raised his gun and fired wildly, roaring, "Motherfucker! Damn you, Roy! The family won't let you get away with attacking your own people!"
Swoosh!
As soon as Hertz finished speaking, a dagger flew through the crowd and precisely pinned his gun-wielding wrist to the wall.
The pistol fell to the floor, and Hertz let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Smack!
Hammerhead slapped Hertz across the face and grinned menacingly. "Idiot, if we kill everyone, who's going to know!"
After speaking, Hammerhead's biceps contracted. With a powerful heave, he lifted a Gatling gun and, without any regard for the 'allies' still entangled with Roy, opened fire with savage fury.
A ferocious metal storm, glowing with an orange light, swept across the entire area like a meteor shower.
More than a dozen gunmen were turned into a blood mist before they could even scream.
Even Roy's mouth twitched. He was completely surprised by Hammerhead's utterly ferocious and cruel actions.
He once again thanked the wisdom from the "Red Book" of his past life.
Thankfully, he had prepared beforehand and added a layer of enchantment to his bulletproof suit.
Otherwise, the Continental's standard bulletproof suit wouldn't be able to withstand the spray from a Vulcan cannon. No, even getting grazed by a Vulcan cannon was no laughing matter.
It was just a small assassination, and they were using a Vulcan cannon against him.
The local gangs were really impolite.