Harlem was a criminal's paradise. Countless crimes happened every single day, and worse than the crime itself was the racial discrimination.
Because of the massive influx of Latino immigrants and illegal residents, most of Harlem's population was Black. And because of the area's chaotic reputation, outsiders discriminated against everyone who lived there.
Since most residents were Black, they felt the outside world discriminated against them for their race, which in turn made them discriminate against other races.
Verbal abuse and physical beatings were commonplace.
If outsiders—non-Black people—wandered through alone or in groups of two or three, they'd definitely get robbed.
Even if you had no money, they'd strip your clothes off and humiliate you.
But right now, facing this group emerging from the alley, nobody dared step forward to implement their usual tactics.
Because there were too many of them.
A lot of people—roughly 300—walking down the street and blocking the entire road.
Also because they were all dressed identically and moved with intimidating coordination.
But mostly because every single one of them carried a Thompson submachine gun.
Faced with a group like this, people couldn't run away fast enough. Who the hell would go looking for trouble?
Only an idiot would try.
Bullying the weak and fearing the strong, targeting lone victims for robbery—that was how these bastards survived.
They hid inside shops on both sides of the street, peeking their heads out to observe while discussing amongst themselves.
"Where the hell did these people come from?"
"This group's got a completely different vibe from local gangs like the Viper Gang, the Savage Gang, and the Gunfire Negotiators. They look more like the Mafia from Manhattan!"
"Who knows, but there's definitely gonna be a show!"
"Hell yeah. For years, outside gangs have tried to take over territory here, but nobody's ever succeeded—not even the U.S. military!"
"Here we go, here we go—the Savage Gang's coming!"
From the other end of the street, an equal number of people appeared.
Most were Black, wearing short-sleeved t-shirts that showed off various tattoos on their muscular arms and torsos. Most carried M16 or AK-47 rifles, and some of the bigger guys had ammunition belts wrapped around them, wielding heavy machine guns—absolutely brutal-looking.
"Kill them!"
The Savage Gang's leader, a man with a massive bare torso, waved his hand when the two sides were about two hundred meters apart.
The Harlem territory was already saturated—there was no room for additional forces dividing up the profits. Whether the other side wanted peaceful negotiation or a gunfire discussion, the final result could only be life and death!
Plenty of people understood the principle that the brave win when enemies meet on a narrow path.
Both sides approached each other on the straight street, and whoever fired first would gain the advantage.
The Savage Gang's leader didn't hesitate and ordered the attack without any pretense of honor.
Instantly, gunfire erupted, and the sound of shooting echoed throughout Harlem's sky.
And the enemy... that group of guys who'd appeared out of nowhere looking like mafia—they all fell into pools of blood.
"Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!"
The Savage Gang's leader gripped his heavy machine gun, firing at the opposition while shouting excitedly.
The gang members were so pumped up they broke out RPG rocket launchers.
Five minutes later, the Savage Gang had been firing continuously for five full minutes. The ground was littered with bullet casings, and the street was shrouded in gunpowder smoke. You could faintly make out the silhouettes of people lying in pools of blood.
"That's it?"
The Savage Gang's leader emerged from behind a wall and couldn't help laughing wildly. "You dare come to Harlem with skills like that? Who gave you the courage!"
The street fell silent, with only the leader's laughter echoing through the air.
Suddenly, a voice spoke from behind him.
"Yeah, at this level, how did you manage to keep holding this territory?"
The voice was flat, unhurried, completely emotionless.
The wild laughter stopped abruptly.
The Savage Gang's leader froze momentarily, then suddenly spun around and opened fire.
"Ahhh!!"
"Boss, it's us!"
"Why!?"
Hearing his subordinates' familiar voices, the Savage Gang leader quickly stopped firing and looked carefully.
There was no enemy behind him at all!
Just his own brothers lying in pools of blood, writhing and screaming.
"What the hell is going on!?"
The leader's eyes widened, panic creeping into his expression.
"It's an illusion."
The flat voice came from behind him again.
The Savage Gang leader repeated the same move, spinning around and shooting.
This time, there was nobody behind him—no repeat of the previous situation.
"Tch!"
The moment he turned around, someone dropped from above, pierced his shoulder with a trident, and used the momentum to pin him to the ground.
"Don't move!"
"Don't move!"
"Don't move!"
A suited figure had suddenly appeared behind every single Savage Gang member, Thompson pointed directly at them.
What the hell just happened?
Every Savage Gang member stood there dumbfounded and completely lost.
It wasn't until one suited thug knocked a Savage Gang member to the ground with a rifle butt that the rest reacted—dropping their weapons and crouching defensively.
"What's going on!?"
"Who are you!?"
After the Savage Gang leader tried and failed to struggle free, he gritted his teeth and glared at the man standing on his chest, pinning him down, demanding answers.
The man had a blue pineapple-shaped hairstyle with a ponytail reaching his hips. He was tall with a lean build.
He wore tight black leather pants, a white dress shirt, a black trench coat, and a tie casually draped around his neck. His delicate features constantly displayed a charming smile.
But the most striking feature was his blood-red eyes with the number "six" in them—those sinister eyes made people's blood run cold.
"Small fries should have the awareness of small fries. It's fine to die like a nameless grunt. Why ask so many questions? Acting like you're some important character."
"You..."
The Savage Gang leader was furious but found himself speechless.
Because the other man was looking at him with that smile, and those mysterious crimson eyes made him feel like he was being watched by hell itself.
"Mukuro!"
A steady voice called from behind.
The man called Mukuro glanced back. Three meters behind him stood a mixed-race youth with blond-orange eyes and Asian features.
Behind the youth stood a group dressed in strange but compelling outfits, each radiating an intimidating presence.
His smile didn't fade as he asked casually, "...What is it?"
"Let me handle this."
The young man's words were plain but carried undeniable authority.
"Then you handle it!"
Mukuro pulled out his trident and stepped aside with a smile.
When the Savage Gang leader saw the young man, he immediately sensed the natural charisma that made everyone center around him.
"I am the Tenth Generation Boss of the Vongola Family, Tsunayoshi Sawada." The young man looked at the Savage Gang leader with indifference as he finished his introduction, then continued, "From now on, Harlem belongs to Vongola. You can choose to surrender, or you can choose to refuse. Either way, Vongola respects your choice. But whether we bring you destruction or prosperity is also our choice, and I hope you can respect us as well!"