In the pouring rain, Matthew and the bald man locked eyes. The air between them was thick with provocation and danger.
Unable to extract information from Matthew, the bald man's finger gradually tightened on the trigger. But just then, a distinct *click-clack* pierced through the dense patter of rain.
"Fuck! I told you! When you go out for a shootout, you load your guns first! Are you deaf!?" the bald man roared at his subordinates.
A cold sensation on the back of his head instantly sobered him. Having dealt with firearms his whole life, he knew exactly what a gun barrel felt like.
"Sorry, I'm not deaf." A chubby figure emerged from the rainy shadows.
Walsh's uniform was soaked through, and the standard issue pistol in his hand trembled slightly. Still, it remained firmly pressed against the bald man's head.
As a patrol officer, he had never intended to get involved in gang conflicts. After seeing Matthew enter Hell's Kitchen alone, he had initially decided not to follow.
But for some reason, the thought of Matthew, roughly the same age as his own daughter, made him turn back. By some strange impulse, he intervened in what appeared to be a gang shootout.
By the time he regretted it, it was too late. He was now in a desperate predicament, where a single misstep could cost him his life.
"Officer, you get paid so little a month, why risk your life?" the bald man said, his tone provocative. "There are so many of us, and only one of you."
"Even if you kill me, do you really think you can walk out of Hell's Kitchen alive?"
Faced with the bald man's taunts, Walsh desperately wanted to say, 'Is it too late for me to leave now?'
But when the words reached his lips, they transformed into something else entirely. "Enough talk! Drop your weapons! Release the hostage immediately!"
"...Hostage? Who are you talking about?" The bald man looked confused. 'We don't have a hostage on our side, do we? If anything, you're holding me hostage...'
"Don't play dumb! Of course, the little girl!"
"Huh? Me?" Nicole, still reeling from her grief, pointed to herself in confusion. 'When did I become a hostage? Haven't I always been voluntarily following Mr. Matthew?'
"Uh..." Nicole was about to speak, but Matthew shushed her.
"Officer Walsh! I've turned over a new leaf and decided to release the hostage! You can take her!" Matthew shouted loudly.
Then he whispered to Nicole, "You go with him first. Go to the Umbrella Corporation's front desk and tell them Matthew Lawrence sent you. The front desk will arrange everything."
"But... but what about you, sir? You came to Hell's Kitchen because of me, I can't just..."
"Don't say anything more, just do as I say." Matthew then kicked Nicole in the backside.
'What does a little brat know? When a fight breaks out, who's going to look after you...?'
Nicole, having received a kick, stumbled and ran to Walsh's side.
Seeing that one side had released the "hostage," Walsh secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
He kept his gun pressed firmly against the bald man's head, which still gleamed faintly in the rainy night.
Slowly, he moved backward, loudly warning, "Our reinforcements will be here soon! I advise you not to make any more futile resistance; the end of your Maggia gang is coming!"
However, his retreating steps suddenly halted. He turned his head to look.
Under the dim yellow streetlights, a burly figure in a blue suit appeared behind him.
The man had an unusually strange head shape and held a Thompson Submachine Gun, standing like an iron wall.
Behind him stood dozens of subordinates, also armed with submachine guns and possessing cold, menacing eyes.
Before Walsh could react, the figure grabbed him by the collar.
He delivered a headbutt that knocked Walsh to the ground, unconscious on the spot.
The figure looked down at Walsh and Nicole, who was huddled in a ball. He spat disdainfully on the ground and stepped over them.
"*Ptooey!* Talking about the 'end of the Maggia gang'? I thought Kingpin himself had arrived. Turns out it's just a petty NYPD patrol officer."
He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, wiping blood from his forehead.
Then he slowly stepped completely out of the shadows, his voice resonating heavily amidst the rain.
"A mere patrol officer dares to act wild on my Maggia gang's turf? It seems many have forgotten my reputation as 'Hammerhead'!"
Hammerhead slowly stepped out from under the light.
His real name was Joseph, and he had suffered a severe head injury in a gang conflict.
An unknown black market doctor fitted him with an expensive Vibranium steel plate.
Due to Vibranium's special properties of absorbing energy and its extreme hardness, Hammerhead's head could not be harmed by knives or axes.
Because of this, the underworld spread rumors that he was an immortal monster. He was said to survive even a bullet to the head unscathed.
Word spread like wildfire, and the previously obscure Maggia gang rapidly rose in status under his leadership.
They eventually became one of Hell's Kitchen's top gangs.
'But... do the gangs in New York have some kind of serious illness? Or are they all sharpshooters?' Matthew wondered.
'Otherwise, why do they all aim for his head during shootouts? Does his iron head come with a built-in taunt?'
In Matthew's opinion, if even one person with bad aim had shot him in the femoral artery or the heart, they wouldn't be hyping up a guy with a steel plate welded to his head like this.
"I know you, Matthew Lawrence... Umbrella Corporation's newly appointed head of Security Department."
Hammerhead took a pre-cut and lit cigar from a subordinate, taking a deep drag. In the rainy night, the smoke drifted far away.
"Considering your identity, I can give you a chance," he said, cigar clenched between his teeth.
He looked arrogantly at Matthew, who stood alone in the middle of the street.
"Hand over a portion of the assets your father left behind to the Maggia gang, and I'll let you live. What do you say?"
In his eyes, Matthew was now a fish in a barrel. If he wanted to live, he had to agree to his demands. Otherwise, he wouldn't leave Hell's Kitchen alive.
"Boss, and my brother," the bald man reminded him from the side.
"..." "Right, and his brother," Hammerhead added.
Matthew, standing still, listened. Then, as if he hadn't heard clearly, he picked his ear with his pinky finger.
He scoffed aloud. "So you're saying... I, the head of Security Department for an international corporation managing pharmaceuticals, military weapons, and high-tech, have to take orders from a low-life thug like you?"
"A thug who has to fight over every piece of turf, just to stay alive? Not only that, but I also have to hand over my family's assets?"
"Are you fucking drunk on fake booze?!" Matthew suddenly raised his voice, retorting angrily.
"Having a steel plate in your head is fine for fooling your own men, but do you really think you're someone important?"
"In the end, you're just the boss of a third-rate gang. Who gave you the guts to threaten me?"
"If it were before..." Matthew suddenly paused, then corrected himself.
"No! Even now! Do you believe I can plant you in the dirt to cosplay as a ginseng?!"