Reading settings
american comcis _ tales of caltiveter _chapter_0050_part_03
Chapter 67
chapter 0050 part 3
As for the boxer who died, his Corpse was hoisted up with a rope, and his agent showed no sign of sadness, merely discussing something with the organizer and another crew member in the corner.
Tang Song watched all this indifferently, watching those ladies who usually possessed infinite elegance and noble grace, now screaming like crazed shrews, not caring that their jewelry and hair ornaments were completely disheveled.
In the second match, two lean Asian men entered the ring. Quickly, in seventeen seconds, one of the slightly shorter boxers had his right leg bone broken by a kick, and the match ended.
Several guys yelled: "Damn it, you bastard, kill him, kill him, kill this losing dog." The noble ladies and madams beside them burst into laughter, as if the boxer struggling on the ground was truly like a dog.
A fat man threw away his invalidated betting slip and suddenly roared: "Damn it, kill this dog that made us lose Money, damn it, I'll pay five hundred thousand US Dollars, kill him, kill him, kill him..."
Almost all the audience shouted: "Kill him, kill him, kill him..."
Cash rained down into the cage like raindrops.
The agents of the two boxers in the ring looked at each other, quickly exchanged glances, and gave a fierce thumbs-down gesture to the winning boxer in the ring.
The winning boxer darted forward to the person on the ground, delivered a flying kick, and with a 'crack', broke his neck.
A plump lady nearby slightly closed her eyes, making sounds of 'oh, oh, oh, oh', having been stimulated to climax by the bloody scene.
Seeing this scene, Skye seemed frightened and shrank into Tang Song's arms.
Fox, who was following behind the two, also frowned at the bloody scene.
She had killed more people than everyone in this fighting arena combined, but she was used to using Guns to deliver God's judgment, not this kind of meaningless torture to death.
"These are the elites of society? This is the so-called upper class?"
Tang Song said solemnly: "It's just Money that creates a heaven and hell difference between them and thugs and prostitutes. If they didn't have Money, they would become thugs and prostitutes for a living. In their bones, they're all the same."
After a few matches, Tang Song had seen enough. These boxers had no technical skill. The organizers relied on the gimmick of bloody underground boxing matches to fleece these wealthy gamblers.
Tang Song pulled Skye back to the Cruise Ship suite...
...
While Tang Song was indulging in pleasure, elsewhere.
New York, Hell's Kitchen, a luxury apartment. Several Mercedes cars were parked in front of the apartment building.
In the center of the convoy, Kingpin, leaning on his Cane and smoking a Cigar, got out of the car and looked up at the lights in the apartment building.
"Boss, the person is in the building. They haven't left the room since returning from the law firm!"
A Subordinate responsible for surveillance walked up to Kingpin and reported the situation.
"Arrest them! I want them alive!" Kingpin took a deep puff of his Cigar. The burning tip of the Cigar was like a scarlet Demon's eye in the dark night.
With Kingpin's command, over a dozen Gunman swaggered into the apartment building's entrance. Seeing the Submachine Guns and Rifle in the hands of these burly men,
The two apartment security guards instinctively glanced at the old Shotgun under the table and decisively retreated to the side, covering their heads.
Capture that blind lawyer and interrogate him about the person behind him.
Kingpin smoked his Cigar, like a giant from Hell in the dark night.
Arresting someone was a minor matter that could usually be handled by any Subordinate. Kingpin coming personally was to show certain people the importance he placed on this matter.
Admittedly, the FBI couldn't scare him, but the major financial groups behind the Federal Reserve were a big trouble, even Kingpin didn't want to provoke them.
Unlike puppet presidents who changed every few years, those few financial groups were the true masters of the Federation's lifeline.
Someone had a message conveyed to Kingpin through the Councillors he was cooperating with: cut off the source of the Super US Dollar, and Kingpin's long-sought position as a Senator would be a sure thing.
Moreover, Kingpin had a hidden agenda. If he mastered that counterfeit Money technology, even if he couldn't print US Dollars, printing British Pounds or Euros would be a highly profitable Business.
In New York, a place where heaven and Hell coexist, only profit and Money are the true eternal truths.
But before that, Kingpin first needed to deal with this witness who had sued him.
Boom! Kingpin was smoking his Cigar when he suddenly felt a violent Vibration overhead, followed by a loud explosion.
Glass shards rained down like raindrops. Kingpin flashed aside, his mountain-like physique as agile as a wild boar in the mountains, displaying a Speed completely inconsistent with his size. He quickly dodged behind his bulletproof car.
"What's going on?"
Kingpin gripped his Cane tightly, a trace of shock and anger flashing across his fierce face. His gaze locked onto the upper floors.
In the upper half of the apartment building, the Glass of half the building was shattered. Several rooms on the twentieth floor were engulfed in flames.
And at this time, less than five minutes had passed since his group of Gunman went upstairs.
Buzz buzz buzz buzz...
Just as Kingpin was about to call his Subordinates to go upstairs and check, his phone rang.
"Boss, something's happened! Two Money exchanges have been robbed!"
A flustered voice came from the Phone Number. Kingpin's pupils slightly contracted, and his breathing suddenly intensified.
"What did you say?" Kingpin's voice was almost squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Boss, Money exchanges No. 3 and No. 6 have been robbed! All the Money has been stolen! We..."
Crack! Before the Subordinate could finish, Kingpin threw his Mobile Phone, smashing it to pieces.
"Go, back!"
Glancing at the exploding apartment building, Kingpin tried to calm himself down and said coldly.
...
"Who are you people? Do you know whose place this is? Do you know whose Money this is?"
Inside the not-so-small Money exchange, over a dozen Gunman lay dead on the spot. They were shot either in the center of the forehead or the left chest, Blood flowing everywhere.
A group of fully armed Soldier were quickly packing US Dollars into large suitcases.
A bald man with a scorpion tattoo on his head struggled to get up. Frank walked forward and stabbed him through with a dagger.
"Hurry up, we don't have much time!"
Frank clamped the blade with his arm, wiped the Blood off the blade, and looked at the timer on his wrist.
(End of this chapter)
As for the boxer who died, his Corpse was hoisted up with a rope, and his agent showed no sign of sadness, merely discussing something with the organizer and another crew member in the corner.
Tang Song watched all this indifferently, watching those ladies who usually possessed infinite elegance and noble grace, now screaming like crazed shrews, not caring that their jewelry and hair ornaments were completely disheveled.
In the second match, two lean Asian men entered the ring. Quickly, in seventeen seconds, one of the slightly shorter boxers had his right leg bone broken by a kick, and the match ended.
Several guys yelled: "Damn it, you bastard, kill him, kill him, kill this losing dog." The noble ladies and madams beside them burst into laughter, as if the boxer struggling on the ground was truly like a dog.
A fat man threw away his invalidated betting slip and suddenly roared: "Damn it, kill this dog that made us lose Money, damn it, I'll pay five hundred thousand US Dollars, kill him, kill him, kill him..."
Almost all the audience shouted: "Kill him, kill him, kill him..."
Cash rained down into the cage like raindrops.
The agents of the two boxers in the ring looked at each other, quickly exchanged glances, and gave a fierce thumbs-down gesture to the winning boxer in the ring.
The winning boxer darted forward to the person on the ground, delivered a flying kick, and with a 'crack', broke his neck.
A plump lady nearby slightly closed her eyes, making sounds of 'oh, oh, oh, oh', having been stimulated to climax by the bloody scene.
Seeing this scene, Skye seemed frightened and shrank into Tang Song's arms.
Fox, who was following behind the two, also frowned at the bloody scene.
She had killed more people than everyone in this fighting arena combined, but she was used to using Guns to deliver God's judgment, not this kind of meaningless torture to death.
"These are the elites of society? This is the so-called upper class?"
Tang Song said solemnly: "It's just Money that creates a heaven and hell difference between them and thugs and prostitutes. If they didn't have Money, they would become thugs and prostitutes for a living. In their bones, they're all the same."
After a few matches, Tang Song had seen enough. These boxers had no technical skill. The organizers relied on the gimmick of bloody underground boxing matches to fleece these wealthy gamblers.
Tang Song pulled Skye back to the Cruise Ship suite...
...
While Tang Song was indulging in pleasure, elsewhere.
New York, Hell's Kitchen, a luxury apartment. Several Mercedes cars were parked in front of the apartment building.
In the center of the convoy, Kingpin, leaning on his Cane and smoking a Cigar, got out of the car and looked up at the lights in the apartment building.
"Boss, the person is in the building. They haven't left the room since returning from the law firm!"
A Subordinate responsible for surveillance walked up to Kingpin and reported the situation.
"Arrest them! I want them alive!" Kingpin took a deep puff of his Cigar. The burning tip of the Cigar was like a scarlet Demon's eye in the dark night.
With Kingpin's command, over a dozen Gunman swaggered into the apartment building's entrance. Seeing the Submachine Guns and Rifle in the hands of these burly men,
The two apartment security guards instinctively glanced at the old Shotgun under the table and decisively retreated to the side, covering their heads.
Capture that blind lawyer and interrogate him about the person behind him.
Kingpin smoked his Cigar, like a giant from Hell in the dark night.
Arresting someone was a minor matter that could usually be handled by any Subordinate. Kingpin coming personally was to show certain people the importance he placed on this matter.
Admittedly, the FBI couldn't scare him, but the major financial groups behind the Federal Reserve were a big trouble, even Kingpin didn't want to provoke them.
Unlike puppet presidents who changed every few years, those few financial groups were the true masters of the Federation's lifeline.
Someone had a message conveyed to Kingpin through the Councillors he was cooperating with: cut off the source of the Super US Dollar, and Kingpin's long-sought position as a Senator would be a sure thing.
Moreover, Kingpin had a hidden agenda. If he mastered that counterfeit Money technology, even if he couldn't print US Dollars, printing British Pounds or Euros would be a highly profitable Business.
In New York, a place where heaven and Hell coexist, only profit and Money are the true eternal truths.
But before that, Kingpin first needed to deal with this witness who had sued him.
Boom! Kingpin was smoking his Cigar when he suddenly felt a violent Vibration overhead, followed by a loud explosion.
Glass shards rained down like raindrops. Kingpin flashed aside, his mountain-like physique as agile as a wild boar in the mountains, displaying a Speed completely inconsistent with his size. He quickly dodged behind his bulletproof car.
"What's going on?"
Kingpin gripped his Cane tightly, a trace of shock and anger flashing across his fierce face. His gaze locked onto the upper floors.
In the upper half of the apartment building, the Glass of half the building was shattered. Several rooms on the twentieth floor were engulfed in flames.
And at this time, less than five minutes had passed since his group of Gunman went upstairs.
Buzz buzz buzz buzz...
Just as Kingpin was about to call his Subordinates to go upstairs and check, his phone rang.
"Boss, something's happened! Two Money exchanges have been robbed!"
A flustered voice came from the Phone Number. Kingpin's pupils slightly contracted, and his breathing suddenly intensified.
"What did you say?" Kingpin's voice was almost squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Boss, Money exchanges No. 3 and No. 6 have been robbed! All the Money has been stolen! We..."
Crack! Before the Subordinate could finish, Kingpin threw his Mobile Phone, smashing it to pieces.
"Go, back!"
Glancing at the exploding apartment building, Kingpin tried to calm himself down and said coldly.
...
"Who are you people? Do you know whose place this is? Do you know whose Money this is?"
Inside the not-so-small Money exchange, over a dozen Gunman lay dead on the spot. They were shot either in the center of the forehead or the left chest, Blood flowing everywhere.
A group of fully armed Soldier were quickly packing US Dollars into large suitcases.
A bald man with a scorpion tattoo on his head struggled to get up. Frank walked forward and stabbed him through with a dagger.
"Hurry up, we don't have much time!"
Frank clamped the blade with his arm, wiped the Blood off the blade, and looked at the timer on his wrist.
(End of this chapter)
