Screams, undressing, headbanging, pushing and shoving provocatively...
The frenzied atmosphere stunned the female organizer, who hadn't expected King Von, included as a bonus gift, to have such an explosive performance effect.
"Stay focused during the performance; there are many gang members in the audience." Phil reminded Leon before he went on stage.
Chicago is not New York. Even in New York, he has to be extra cautious when performing, let alone in Chicago, where gangs are rampant. Performing here carries the risk of being shot by a hidden gunman at any moment.
The threat comes not only from JAY-Z but also from those young rappers eager for fame.
In the South Side of Chicago, for just a few tens of thousands of dollars, you can hire a group of bold nggas to follow behind. This money can make them risk everything to do anything for you.
Whether it's car theft, drug dealing, or street shootouts...
Dirt-poor young nggas have absolutely no sense of crisis; for fame and fortune, they will risk everything.
"I'll be careful." Leon put on a performance outfit that looked like a white shroud and stood in the artist corridor waiting to go on stage.
He happened to run into King Von, who had just finished his performance.
As soon as they met, King Von, who was arrogant on stage just now, instantly lost control of his emotions.
He excitedly made a gang sign representing the highest respect, tears flashing in the corners of his eyes. "Bro, thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. This is a scene that has appeared repeatedly in my dreams. I am now a hero of Chicago."
"You deserve it." Leon smiled and patted his back.
The faults of the black poor community are vividly reflected in him: greed, rage, obscenity, brainlessness, laziness, single-mindedness...
But his advantages are also obvious—straightforward, straightforward to the point of being somewhat naive.
When he earns money, he will squander it with his homies, even women are no exception. In his heart, money is not even as important as the community and homies.
For Leon, the shining point of loyalty is enough to cover all his bad roots.
During the chat in the corridor, the crazy cheers and screams outside came wave after wave.
"Leon! Leon!"
"Give the damn Al Capone back to Chicago!"
Leon adjusted his in-ear monitor, appeared in the center of the stage dressed in his iconic Jesus attire.
Nodded to the guitarist and performed his famous work Take Me to Church.
When singing the climax, unsurprisingly, it set off a chorus from the whole audience.
"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies..."
"I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death..."
The lyrics rich in religious philosophy seem tailor-made for the underclass laborers; the audience was completely immersed in emotion.
After the first song ended, it seamlessly connected to Heathens.
Obviously, this song fits the appetite of the South Side audience better. The strong Trap style accompaniment got them hooked instantly.
The cheers were even louder.
After the performance, the crowd lingered for a long time, unwilling to disperse. Empty beer cans, cigarette butts, and glass shards were scattered all over the ground.
"Fck, you don't know how nervous I was just now." As soon as Leon returned backstage, Phil quickly got up and leaned over. "A group of nggas standing in the front row, they have GD gang tattoos on their necks."
"You're overreacting." Leon said casually.
More than 20,000 spectators were at the scene in Jackson Park, more than half of whom were gang-affiliated.
Even if working as a dishwasher in a restaurant, most have a few siblings or cousins undergoing reform in prison.
Words like "You know I know XXX" have no power in the South Side.
"I always felt those bastards looked at you with malicious intent. Anyway, we have to leave this damn place quickly."
Phil was highly focused throughout the performance. He clearly saw a group of nggas in the front row not swaying with the music the whole time.
With serious expressions, someone couldn't help reaching for their waist during the period.
The person in charge of the performance walked over, the apple muscles on her face bulging into circles due to ecstasy. "So far we have toured twelve cities across the US, invited Linkin Park, Coldplay, Lil Wayne... But I have to say Chicago's live atmosphere is the best! You and Mr. Von dedicated the greatest live performance."
"Thank you for your praise." Before Leon had time to respond with a few polite words, he hurriedly left the scene under Phil's dissuasion.
The journey of less than two hundred meters from the performance location to the parking lot was crowded with fanatical fans asking for autographs.
"Leon, I love you!"
"Sign for me, please!"
No matter how the fans shouted, Leon kept his head buried low, his mind full of other things.
According to the contract, tomorrow is the day for the renovation delivery of Apocalypse Music's new office building. He couldn't wait to rush back to New York to see the final renovation effect.
King Von, on the other hand, couldn't resist the enthusiasm of his hometown people. He satisfied almost any request from fans.
Wielding a thick oil-based marker up and down.
Signing his name on notebooks, T-shirts, bras, butts, and various other strange places.
"Little Von, hurry up and keep up!"
"No problem, BOSS. Look how enthusiastic the Chicago girls are!"
King Von enjoyed the pleasure of being surrounded and worshipped by the crowd, taking a selfie holding the taillights of a black girl beside him.
Dissonant voices appeared in the crowd one after another. A group of young nggas with gang tattoos on their faces seized the opportunity to cause trouble.
While impacting the bodyguards, they shouted loudly: "Hey, soft egg!"
"Look here, Leon! I don't care how much power you have in New York; this is Chicago. Dare you touch me?"
"Your music is a pile of bullsht! So are the white chicks you fcked!"
"You are basically a fake gangsta! Go blow the flute for the uncle from GD, white trash!"
Jorge looked back and glared. A young black man in the front row of the Mexican handlebar mustache seemed to trigger a soul memory and quickly shut his mouth.
But a large group of people behind him still clamored endlessly.
"Ignore them." Leon frowned. "If we get serious, we lose."
He never tired of using street conflicts to hype topics, but this also depends on the object.
Compared to hip-hop superstars like Diddy and JAY-Z, this group of soul-stirringly poor gang members is not even as good as stray dogs on the street.
"Hey! Didn't you hear me, dammit!"
GD gang members were still relentless. At a position less than ten meters from the parking lot, Leon saw someone making a move reaching for their waist.
"Damn it!" Jorge puffed out his broad chest like a big refrigerator and walked straight towards that person, attempting to stop the other party before the conflict escalated.
Whether the other party was out of intimidation or other purposes, it cannot be taken lightly.
Bang bang bang—!
Three gunshots without warning instantly woke up the restless fans. After a brief confusion, they screamed and fled in all directions.
"Fck!"
Jorge stood frozen on the spot. He hadn't touched the other party yet, or even done anything.
And the GD member who made the gun-drawing motion had fallen to the ground bleeding profusely, crawling hard on the lawn.
When Leon reacted, he saw clearly that King Von was standing in front of him, holding a Glock chasing the GD members who hadn't had time to escape.
"What do you damn bastards want to do to my boss!"
He shouted while shooting, without any cover around him, but no trace of fear was revealed in his eyes.
Bang bang—Those GD members hadn't figured out what happened yet. Looking up, they saw such a fierce reckless youth chasing with a gun, ignoring the injured companions on the ground, and fled in all directions quickly.
"Damn soft eggs! You dare to threaten my boss in Chicago!"
"I will find every one of you! O-Block won't let you go!"
King Von got more and more carried away as he cursed, actually frantically wanting to shoot the severely injured GD member on the ground again to finish him off.
"Stop quickly, Little Von!"
Leon shouted to stop him. If he really didn't stop him, the problem would be big.
Shooting back is one thing; executing is another.
"Fck, look what you did?" Everything that happened just now stunned Phil, his mind blank. "You shot into the crowd?"
"That bastard shouldn't threaten my boss on my turf!" King Von didn't feel he did anything wrong at all, stuffed the pistol back into his waist, looking proud like a child waiting to be praised.
"This is simply fcking crazy; you lunatic got into big trouble!" Phil pointed at his nose and sprayed wildly.
"Shut up, shot is shot." Leon adjusted his breathing to clear his mind and patted the old geezer's shoulder. "While that ngga still has a breath, call 911 quickly to send that bastard to the hospital."
Saying that, he called Luca immediately. The other party demanded they must stay put and wait for the police to arrive.
He didn't intend to blame King Von. Everything that happened just now was seen by him.
Whether those GD members were purely for provocation and threat or had other purposes, his life safety was already threatened the moment the other party reached for their waist.
King Von shooting not only shouldn't be scolded but must be rewarded!
The only thing to worry about is that he might face serious violent charges because of this, and the court proceedings might delay his participation in the The Rap of America finals in October.
"Don't worry, Little Von, you did a great job." Leon handed over a cigarette to soothe his emotions.
King Von instantly straightened his back. "No one can provoke you in front of me! No one!"
"Don't worry, this is the South Side of Chicago. No one cares about the life and death of a black person; such things happen every day."
Phil obviously had a different view on this, snorted coldly and said: "At least hundreds of people saw what happened just now. Although Chicago cops are bastards, they are not fools."
Twenty minutes later, the ambulance arrived at the scene, and police cars followed closely.
Leon's team showed cooperation throughout the process and followed the police back to the Chicago Police Department to assist in the investigation.
After a brief inquiry about the incident, Leon walked out of the police station at 7 PM. Only King Von stayed here waiting for the court hearing.
Discussions about the shooting on social media occupied the number one hot search. Jay-Z and Will Smith took the opportunity to post sarcastically: "This cancer spreads madness and violence wherever he goes."
Taylor couldn't care about her busy work and called several times during the interval of changing costumes at the concert to inquire.
She was absent-minded throughout this concert held in Dallas, Texas, considered the worst one in the "Speak Now" tour.
Luca was on a plane from New York to Chicago, expected to land at nine o'clock.
Involved in criminal violent charges, he was as excited as if he had been injected with chicken blood.
Collaborating with Mexican drug dealers all year round, handling similar shooting cases is handy for him.
"Don't worry, buddy. That honest ngga will be free soon. It was those gang members who initiated the threat to your life safety first. Little Von's counterattack is completely legal; this is self-defense! If this happened in Texas, he wouldn't even need to pay bail. I will let him leave the court like a victorious gladiator!"
"Very good, try to be faster; we need you." Leon stood outside the police station and lit a cigarette, looking not panicked at all.
"I knew this damn ngga would cause such trouble sooner or later. This guy is a lunatic, completely uncontrollable!" Phil's mouth hadn't stopped since the beginning, complaining all the time. "You poured so many resources into him. The Rap of America cost tens of millions of dollars. That bastard insists on working himself into prison. Did his mother leave his brain in the birth canal when giving birth to him!"
"Shut up, I'll only say it one last time." Leon looked back and glared, anger in his eyes.
The old geezer rarely saw such an expression on his face, swallowed his saliva, and quieted down immediately.
Leon calculated in his heart that even if King Von had no brains, the thing had already happened.
The old geezer chattering endlessly like this would only interfere with his thinking.
Although on the way leaving the performance scene, Leon had been avoiding conflict with these low-level gang members, before King Von drew his gun, the GD members already had signs of drawing guns.
Even if the other party only had a 1% probability of drawing a gun, what King Von did was completely fine.
Although this ngga only has violence and unrealistic street loyalty in his head, he is indeed very loyal.
When he blocked in front of Leon and shot at the GD members, he risked being shot back by the other party, but he didn't consider this at all.
"Maybe this is not a bad thing, provided he can be safe and sound, don't get deeper and deeper into this matter." Leon muttered to himself amidst the smoke.
Since the birth of rap music, it has been inseparable from street violence. For rappers, street shootouts are cultivation, and imprisonment is equivalent to gilding.
These are essential links on the road to legend.
Tupac also realized the experienced enlightenment through hardship after being released from prison in October 1995, hanging out with the notorious Suge Knight all day, officially starting his thug mode.
When promoting the new album All Eyez On Me, he named and scolded all the rappers on the East Coast who could be named, burying the fuse for being shot in the future.
This album is also his only diamond record, marking the peak of his singer career.
As long as Luca can bring King Von out of the station safe and sound, then by the time of the The Rap of America finals in October, his popularity will reach a new peak.
Combined with the premiere of Panda, truly achieving debut as the peak.
More than an hour later, Luca's figure appeared at the entrance of the Chicago Police Department, half an hour earlier than he said.
He was still graceful, his blonde hair groomed oily and shiny, the smile on his face frozen like a carving.
"Don't be nervous, guys. This kind of thing is simple for me. This is not a drug gang shootout nor street revenge, just a kind ngga making a righteous act to protect his boss's safety. According to Article 720, Section 1 of the Illinois Criminal Code, when oneself or others are about to suffer illegal force infringement, force can be used for self-defense or protecting others..."
The lengthy legal explanation made Leon drowsy. He glanced at his watch and said: "Tell these words to the cops and the judge. Go get Little Von out now."
"No problem!" Luca tapped his forehead with his finger gracefully, picked up his briefcase, and walked into the police station.
Chicago has no duty court, so they definitely couldn't wait for the court hearing tonight. After a busy day, Leon was physically and mentally exhausted and took the team to stay in the hotel.
"Could this matter be not that simple?" Bonnie, who remained silent almost throughout the day, suddenly asked: "I mean, could that group of GD members provoking you be related to Duane, or have anything to do with JAY-Z?"
"Should have nothing to do with them."
Leon reviewed carefully in his mind. If Duane instigated it, that group of gang members should have fired long ago, and wouldn't have kept trash talking at all.
The principle of "cutting off one's wealth is like killing one's parents" applies worldwide. Diddy was both Duane's wealth and his bread and butter.
With the collapse of the Diddy empire, Duane completely lost his past glamorous life and could only hide like a stray dog.
If a desperate gang thug wants revenge, he will definitely not leave any room.
Killing Leon in this way, the mastermind behind the scenes, JAY-Z, can easily clear himself completely.
Solving Apocalypse Music, a record company threatening his dominance on the East Coast, once and for all.
"It doesn't matter whether this matter has anything to do with JAY-Z." Leon curved the corners of his mouth into a wicked smile. He couldn't let go of this excellent hype opportunity.
No matter what kind of sht pot it is, just buckle it on the opponent's head.