Mike went to the garage, lifted a floorboard, and revealed the entrance to the Underground Room.
This was Mike's secret Base, used to store illegal items like firearms and ammunition.
"When will I get a spatial ring?" Mike dreamed of being an European Emperor.
"Fantasy Materialization" was based on Mike's knowledge from two lives, so the items produced by the "Soul Fruit" were incredibly diverse.
There were ordinary items, such as sharp samurai swords, Vampire cloaks, ANBU masks, and handmade wooden clogs.
There were special items, such as enchanted cards, magic scrolls, explosive tags, and healing potions.
The system came with a System Space, which could only store system items, and the space was only one cubic meter, which was not enough. So Mike needed a secret Base.
Mike cleared out the unused items from the System Space to free up room.
Then he loaded in handguns, submachine guns, grenades, magazines, samurai swords, daggers, ropes, and so on.
Most of the things were not needed, but he kept them anyway. It was better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them.
By the time he left the Underground Base and returned to the supermarket, it was already dusk.
At this time, the patrolling Police began to be cautious, seeing everyone as a gang member. After midnight, Hell's Kitchen became a criminal's paradise; unless someone reported a crime, the Police would never leave the Police station. For them, the night was just as dangerous.
Old Earl winked at Mike and said, "Boss, that blonde chick left. This is her message for you."
Mike took the tissue Old Earl handed him. It had a phone number and a luscious lip print, indicating that Jennifer was very satisfied with Mike's "piling service" and wanted to do it again.
"So, what was her name again?" Mike muttered, saving Jennifer's number. He was quite satisfied with Jennifer too—beautiful face, good figure, proper attitude, and skilled technique.
It was very harmonious.
"By the way, Old Earl, are you busy tonight?" Mike asked.
"No," Old Earl shook his head.
"Oh, then you're working overtime tonight." Mike didn't explain the reason for the overtime.
"Okay," Old Earl nodded, thoughtfully.
"Also, don't go back tonight, stay at the supermarket. After closing, immediately lock the doors and windows, and no matter what noise you hear, don't open the door," Mike instructed.
"Understood."
Old Earl understood that Mike had a mission tonight.
After giving some more detailed instructions, Mike left and went to the "Old Zhou Chinese Restaurant."
"One special Yangzhou fried rice, one beef ho fun, for takeout," Mike ordered skillfully.
"Alright."
Xiao Zhou, Old Zhou's son, smiled genuinely.
Mike's presence had significantly improved the local security, and most people were grateful.
Mike sat on a chair and took out his phone to text Jennifer.
"Did you get home safely, little cookie?"
"Yes."
"I didn't wake you because you were sleeping so soundly. I'm sorry I wasn't there to see you off and couldn't take you home."
"Mike, you're truly a gentleman. (￣ 3￣)づ"
Mike was stunned.
This was considered a gentleman?
How was this being a gentleman?
It really just depended on looks, didn't it (???).
After a pleasant chat, they arranged to hang out again next time. Soon, Xiao Zhou came out with the takeout bag.
Mike paid and left.
At this moment, two people walked out from the kitchen.
One was chubby Old Li, and the other was a young, capable short-haired woman.
The short-haired woman was Li Qianhuan, part of an X-Men squad, primarily active in Los Angeles. She held the most advanced instrument, capable of remotely detecting the X-gene.
"Not a Mutant," Li Qianhuan said with some regret after looking at the test results. The X-Men were quite short-staffed.
Mike didn't know he had piqued Li Qianhuan's interest. Back at the supermarket, Mike shared the beef ho fun with Old Earl and enjoyed his special Yangzhou fried rice.
U.S. Chinese food, to cater to American tastes, was usually modified, making it sweet and spicy. So, "special" actually referred to the original flavor.
After dinner, he chatted with Old Earl for a bit. Mike went upstairs and formulated his plan for the night's operation.
The plan was simple.
The simpler, the less likely to go wrong. Moreover, how complex did it need to be to deal with a small gang?
Then Mike slept for a while, recuperating until close to midnight.
He got up, took a cold Water shower, and changed into black night-ops attire suitable for nighttime activities.
Finally, Mike took out a special card from the System Space—an Attachment Card.
The card was the size of a playing card, depicting a tall man with sinister eyes and no eyebrows—Momochi Zabuza.
"Character: Momochi Zabuza"
"Type: Attachment Card"
"Cost: 10,000 U.S. dollars/hour (less than an hour is calculated as one hour)"
"Note 1: Nicknamed 'Demon of the Hidden Mist,' the second user of the Kubikiribocho, skilled in Water Release and Silent Killing. True to his name, he never needs to strike twice."
"Note 2: This card does not come with the Kubikiribocho; please collect it yourself."
"Use card."
Mike held the card and silently chanted.
The card transformed into points of light and vanished, and a strange power filled his limbs and bones. He couldn't help but groan in comfort.
"This is power… No wonder humans tirelessly pursue it; it feels truly amazing."
"Ding!"
A text message notification startled Mike out of his enchantment. The message indicated: 10,000 U.S. dollars automatically deducted from the bank.
Mike: o(｀ω′*)o
Not to mention Old Earl didn't have twenty thousand U.S. dollars, even if he did, how much would be left after deducting the Attachment Card fee and the system's commission?
One thousand U.S. dollars!
So, all that hard work was just for the system.
Leaving the house through the window, Mike moved by leaping and walking across the rooftops and side walls of various buildings.
Mike wore a half-face mask, purely out of caution.
Hell's Kitchen had almost no outdoor surveillance cameras. Anyway, if one was installed, it would definitely be destroyed within an hour, so they simply didn't bother installing them.
Hell's Kitchen was located on the Manhattan island shore, extending west to the Hudson River, with many small docks along the bank.
The Big Foot Gang's stronghold was in a warehouse at one of these small docks. The warehouse's main structure was steel, five meters high, covering about a thousand square meters.
A few minutes later, Mike appeared on the warehouse roof.
The warehouse was brightly lit, divided into four areas.
The East Zone was where Big Foot Gang members lived and entertained, filled with foul and fishy smells, typical of a drug den.
The South Zone was a drug manufacturing factory, with a pile of chemical instruments, a group of "workers" wearing only underwear and gas masks busy at work, and two armed strongmen watching over them.
The West Zone had a pile of cages, holding many people—men, women, old and young, of all skin colors and races. These people paid to be smuggled into the U.S., then were imprisoned by the Big Foot Gang and blackmailed for the remaining payment.
Some paid and left.
Those who didn't pay—
Some would be assigned to the West Zone as drug manufacturing workers—under poor protection and high-intensity labor, many would not live to repay their "debts."
Young, beautiful women or men were often forced into prostitution.
The North Zone was a warehouse, storing firearms, packaged drugs, and miscellaneous items.
A shipping container caught Mike's attention.
The container was sealed, but Mike, being on the roof, still smelled a strong scent of blood. This might be related to Momochi Zabuza's keen sense of smell as a top ninja.
With a thought, Mike concentrated his chakra at the soles of his feet and quietly walked down the wall.
The container door was ajar, covered by a plastic isolation curtain.
With just one glance, Mike, usually calm, was immediately filled with boundless rage.
Inside the container was a stainless steel bed, and a male corpse was tied to it, disemboweled. His expression was extremely contorted from pain and fear. His organs had been removed while he was alive and without anesthesia.
This was a worker who had died from overwork in the West Zone. The Big Foot Gang called it: waste utilization.
There were two people in White coats inside the container.
"You are…"
"Hey…"
The voices abruptly stopped.
A cold gleam arced, flashing by in an instant.
Mike flicked the blood off his long sword, his face as still as Water.