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american comcis _ tales of caltiveter _chapter_0024_part_01
Chapter 25
chapter 0024 part 1
Chapter 24: Armor, Skeleton
Outside a factory producing a certain chemical raw material.
Three black seven-seater commercial vehicles avoided the cameras and parked in a corner outside the Chemical Plant.
The doors opened, and burly men, wearing bulletproof vests and full-face helmets, and carrying AK-47 rifles, silently disembarked from the commercial vehicles.
"Team A in position!"
Over a dozen fully armed gunmen hid in the shadows of the factory corner. After reporting, they fell silent, awaiting orders through their earpieces.
Inside the Chemical Plant, machines roared, and the sound of men drinking and playing Hanafuda cards occasionally drifted from the courtyard.
A dark cloud drifted over, obscuring the moon.
After half an hour of silent waiting, a cold voice came through the earpieces:
"Act!"
Over a dozen fully armed former special forces soldiers simultaneously pulled off their night vision goggles.
Working in pairs, one stepping on the other's hands, they lifted and pushed, quickly sending men over the wall.
A dozen killing machines from the Federal Army against a group of gang thugs.
Soon, loose gang thugs had their mouths covered by large hands reaching out from the darkness and their throats slit.
The hissing sound of blood spurting from necks and the muffled pops of silenced pistols were all concealed by the wind in the night.
...
Hell's Kitchen, a Japanese-style Kabukicho, was the busiest bar and club in the two blocks.
Geisha from Japan were quite to the taste of some middle-class customers.
Especially the Japanese women's self-proclaimed Yamato Nadeshiko-like service attitude and exquisite skills attracted a continuous stream of visitors.
This also made this Kabukicho one of the Foot Clan's important venues.
For a venue like this, which raked in vast sums daily, the Foot Clan naturally arranged people to watch over it.
In the Security Room of the Dance Hall, Mitsui Genichi was playing Hanafuda cards with a few subordinates. Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Mitsui, who was having bad luck, quickly stood up, threw the Hanafuda cards on the table, and hurried out. Over a dozen black thugs who were watching the venue outside were standing in the middle of the dance floor, glaring at several white men in black suits opposite.
Two large black men stood behind, covering their wrists. Their eyes were filled with murderous intent, clearly having suffered losses.
Mitsui Genichi spoke in a low voice to the frightened guests around him: "I apologize, tonight's consumption for everyone will be half price. Please don't panic; we will handle this immediately and ensure no one is harmed."
After speaking, he silently advanced towards the two men in black suits at the front, saying coldly, "This is the Foot Clan's territory. You have ten seconds to disappear, otherwise, you will be responsible for all consequences."
"Tsk tsk tsk tsk, how impolite... We just came for some fun; you Japanese are really unfriendly..."
A brown-haired man in a suit with a buzz cut complained:
"Foot Clan, are you threatening me, shorty? This is New York, not Tokyo!"
Mitsui Genichi slowly approached him, a trace of bloody killing intent flashing in his eyes. He subconsciously reached for his belt and said in a sinister whisper, "If you don't get out, I'll kill you right now... damn American."
The suit man's face changed slightly. He glanced at Mitsui Genichi and the bulging waistlines of the thugs behind him, licked his lips, and spread his hands, saying:
"We just came to have some fun. Since you don't welcome us, we'll go to another venue. Let's go, guys."
He immediately left with his companions.
Mitsui Genichi made a gesture, and the deafening music quickly resumed. He strode after them with the black thugs behind him.
The troublemakers seemed to hear the footsteps chasing them and cautiously ran quickly towards the dark street ahead.
Mitsui and his men strode after them. Mitsui whispered sinisterly, "American, stop. The scenery here is very nice. Don't worry, I'll only break your two legs..."
Suddenly, the area ahead became brightly lit. The headlights of four cars turned on simultaneously, and countless figures were vaguely hidden behind the cars, the sound of safeties being pulled echoing from their hands.
"It's an ambush!"
Before the look of terror on Mitsui Genichi's face could fade, over a dozen AK rifles opposite them opened fire simultaneously.
...
"Ding-a-ling"
"Ding-a-ling"
"Ding-a-ling"
The phone kept ringing, but Shredder was no longer in the mood to answer.
He knew it must be another venue under attack. He had received seven or eight calls that night, all requests for help.
"Matsushita Ichiro, who exactly did The Hand provoke?"
Shredder's forehead veins bulged with irritation. He roughly loosened his tie and glared fiercely at the middle-aged man sitting on the sofa beside him.
"Shredder, watch your tone. Without The Hand's support, it's questionable whether your Foot Clan could even exist!"
The middle-aged man named Matsushita Ichiro made no attempt to hide the arrogance in his voice.
"Don't forget, when your master fled to New York in disgrace, it was The Hand who supported you! That's how you have your current enterprise."
A cold glint flashed in Shredder's eyes. He walked to the coat rack and took off his jacket.
"I naturally won't forget The Hand's help, Matsushita-kun. Now I need to know who is targeting us..."
Taking off his suit, revealing a white shirt, Shredder walked to the sword rack and grasped a katana.
"Is it Tang from The East, or Kingpin? What exactly has The Hand done? Madame Gao is dead, why aren't the other fingers of The Hand here?"
Matsushita Ichiro's face darkened. Shredder's words were like tearing open The Hand's scars. He reprimanded him unceremoniously, "Shredder, that's not your concern!"
"Is that so!" Shredder held the scabbard in his left hand and slowly drew the sword with his right.
*Ching!*
The sound of a long blade being drawn echoed in the room.
Shredder held the blade under his arm and wiped the bloodstained surface.
"BOSS!"
Just then, a burly white man in his thirties rushed in, pushing the door open. Seeing Shredder holding a katana, his heart skipped a beat. His gaze swept over Matsushita Ichiro lying dead on the carpet, and his heart leaped into his throat.
"Several of our venues are gone. Kabukicho and that Laboratory were also attacked!"
Shredder's eyes were extremely gloomy, filled with unwillingness. Finally, he gritted his teeth and made up his mind.
"Notify our people to withdraw from New York!"
"BOSS!" The burly white man was shocked, but when he met Shredder's cold gaze, he was immediately too scared to say a word.
"Bring the doctor, not too many people! Also, find someone to spread the location of The Hand's gunmen."
Shredder felt his heart bleeding. The Foot Clan was the enterprise he had built over a dozen years.
He was reluctant to give it up, but he knew The Hand's strength, and the forces capable of confronting The Hand were not something a small gang of that size could afford to provoke.
However, since he was having a hard time, he wouldn't let others have it easy either. Thinking of the enemies The Hand had brought upon him, Shredder directly sold out the gunmen The Hand had smuggled into New York.
When the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman benefits. Although Shredder was unwilling, he knew that only by preserving himself would he have a chance in the future. Only when the two sides fought fiercely would he have a chance to return to New York.
"Bang bang!..."
"Da da da..."
Just as Shredder opened a Secret Room to pack valuables and some research materials.
A burst of intense gunfire, like firecrackers, suddenly came from outside the door.
Shredder's face changed drastically. He threw down the box of gold bars in his hand and quickly walked to a corner of the Secret Room.
On the humanoid wooden stand there, a set of all-metal samurai armor was placed, its bright silver color shining brilliantly under the Secret Room's light.
...
At this time, outside the Foot Clan's Manor Stronghold, Frank was holding a PKM general-purpose machine gun and firing wildly at the Foot Clan's Stronghold.
This heavy machine gun, produced in the former Soviet Union, used 7.62mm bullets, had a magazine capacity of 100 rounds, weighed over ten kilograms, and was originally intended for use with a tripod.
Frank held it directly in his hands. The powerful recoil seemed to have no effect on him. The fire snake sprayed by the machine gun illuminated the night sky for a moment.
Behind him, over a dozen large men were all holding heavy weapons such as pump-action shotguns and machine guns, providing fire suppression against the gunmen in the Manor.
As the Foot Clan's last Stronghold, this Manor had at least fifty gunmen distributed within it. However, compared to the heavy weapons in Frank's hands.
The firearms of these gunmen were at most handguns and submachine guns.
Facing weapons like heavy machine guns, the Foot Clan gunmen inside the Manor were so suppressed they didn't even dare to show their heads.
"Trouble!"
Frank looked at the sky and then down at his special watch. There were only two hours left until dawn.
Chapter 24: Armor, Skeleton
Outside a factory producing a certain chemical raw material.
Three black seven-seater commercial vehicles avoided the cameras and parked in a corner outside the Chemical Plant.
The doors opened, and burly men, wearing bulletproof vests and full-face helmets, and carrying AK-47 rifles, silently disembarked from the commercial vehicles.
"Team A in position!"
Over a dozen fully armed gunmen hid in the shadows of the factory corner. After reporting, they fell silent, awaiting orders through their earpieces.
Inside the Chemical Plant, machines roared, and the sound of men drinking and playing Hanafuda cards occasionally drifted from the courtyard.
A dark cloud drifted over, obscuring the moon.
After half an hour of silent waiting, a cold voice came through the earpieces:
"Act!"
Over a dozen fully armed former special forces soldiers simultaneously pulled off their night vision goggles.
Working in pairs, one stepping on the other's hands, they lifted and pushed, quickly sending men over the wall.
A dozen killing machines from the Federal Army against a group of gang thugs.
Soon, loose gang thugs had their mouths covered by large hands reaching out from the darkness and their throats slit.
The hissing sound of blood spurting from necks and the muffled pops of silenced pistols were all concealed by the wind in the night.
...
Hell's Kitchen, a Japanese-style Kabukicho, was the busiest bar and club in the two blocks.
Geisha from Japan were quite to the taste of some middle-class customers.
Especially the Japanese women's self-proclaimed Yamato Nadeshiko-like service attitude and exquisite skills attracted a continuous stream of visitors.
This also made this Kabukicho one of the Foot Clan's important venues.
For a venue like this, which raked in vast sums daily, the Foot Clan naturally arranged people to watch over it.
In the Security Room of the Dance Hall, Mitsui Genichi was playing Hanafuda cards with a few subordinates. Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Mitsui, who was having bad luck, quickly stood up, threw the Hanafuda cards on the table, and hurried out. Over a dozen black thugs who were watching the venue outside were standing in the middle of the dance floor, glaring at several white men in black suits opposite.
Two large black men stood behind, covering their wrists. Their eyes were filled with murderous intent, clearly having suffered losses.
Mitsui Genichi spoke in a low voice to the frightened guests around him: "I apologize, tonight's consumption for everyone will be half price. Please don't panic; we will handle this immediately and ensure no one is harmed."
After speaking, he silently advanced towards the two men in black suits at the front, saying coldly, "This is the Foot Clan's territory. You have ten seconds to disappear, otherwise, you will be responsible for all consequences."
"Tsk tsk tsk tsk, how impolite... We just came for some fun; you Japanese are really unfriendly..."
A brown-haired man in a suit with a buzz cut complained:
"Foot Clan, are you threatening me, shorty? This is New York, not Tokyo!"
Mitsui Genichi slowly approached him, a trace of bloody killing intent flashing in his eyes. He subconsciously reached for his belt and said in a sinister whisper, "If you don't get out, I'll kill you right now... damn American."
The suit man's face changed slightly. He glanced at Mitsui Genichi and the bulging waistlines of the thugs behind him, licked his lips, and spread his hands, saying:
"We just came to have some fun. Since you don't welcome us, we'll go to another venue. Let's go, guys."
He immediately left with his companions.
Mitsui Genichi made a gesture, and the deafening music quickly resumed. He strode after them with the black thugs behind him.
The troublemakers seemed to hear the footsteps chasing them and cautiously ran quickly towards the dark street ahead.
Mitsui and his men strode after them. Mitsui whispered sinisterly, "American, stop. The scenery here is very nice. Don't worry, I'll only break your two legs..."
Suddenly, the area ahead became brightly lit. The headlights of four cars turned on simultaneously, and countless figures were vaguely hidden behind the cars, the sound of safeties being pulled echoing from their hands.
"It's an ambush!"
Before the look of terror on Mitsui Genichi's face could fade, over a dozen AK rifles opposite them opened fire simultaneously.
...
"Ding-a-ling"
"Ding-a-ling"
"Ding-a-ling"
The phone kept ringing, but Shredder was no longer in the mood to answer.
He knew it must be another venue under attack. He had received seven or eight calls that night, all requests for help.
"Matsushita Ichiro, who exactly did The Hand provoke?"
Shredder's forehead veins bulged with irritation. He roughly loosened his tie and glared fiercely at the middle-aged man sitting on the sofa beside him.
"Shredder, watch your tone. Without The Hand's support, it's questionable whether your Foot Clan could even exist!"
The middle-aged man named Matsushita Ichiro made no attempt to hide the arrogance in his voice.
"Don't forget, when your master fled to New York in disgrace, it was The Hand who supported you! That's how you have your current enterprise."
A cold glint flashed in Shredder's eyes. He walked to the coat rack and took off his jacket.
"I naturally won't forget The Hand's help, Matsushita-kun. Now I need to know who is targeting us..."
Taking off his suit, revealing a white shirt, Shredder walked to the sword rack and grasped a katana.
"Is it Tang from The East, or Kingpin? What exactly has The Hand done? Madame Gao is dead, why aren't the other fingers of The Hand here?"
Matsushita Ichiro's face darkened. Shredder's words were like tearing open The Hand's scars. He reprimanded him unceremoniously, "Shredder, that's not your concern!"
"Is that so!" Shredder held the scabbard in his left hand and slowly drew the sword with his right.
*Ching!*
The sound of a long blade being drawn echoed in the room.
Shredder held the blade under his arm and wiped the bloodstained surface.
"BOSS!"
Just then, a burly white man in his thirties rushed in, pushing the door open. Seeing Shredder holding a katana, his heart skipped a beat. His gaze swept over Matsushita Ichiro lying dead on the carpet, and his heart leaped into his throat.
"Several of our venues are gone. Kabukicho and that Laboratory were also attacked!"
Shredder's eyes were extremely gloomy, filled with unwillingness. Finally, he gritted his teeth and made up his mind.
"Notify our people to withdraw from New York!"
"BOSS!" The burly white man was shocked, but when he met Shredder's cold gaze, he was immediately too scared to say a word.
"Bring the doctor, not too many people! Also, find someone to spread the location of The Hand's gunmen."
Shredder felt his heart bleeding. The Foot Clan was the enterprise he had built over a dozen years.
He was reluctant to give it up, but he knew The Hand's strength, and the forces capable of confronting The Hand were not something a small gang of that size could afford to provoke.
However, since he was having a hard time, he wouldn't let others have it easy either. Thinking of the enemies The Hand had brought upon him, Shredder directly sold out the gunmen The Hand had smuggled into New York.
When the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman benefits. Although Shredder was unwilling, he knew that only by preserving himself would he have a chance in the future. Only when the two sides fought fiercely would he have a chance to return to New York.
"Bang bang!..."
"Da da da..."
Just as Shredder opened a Secret Room to pack valuables and some research materials.
A burst of intense gunfire, like firecrackers, suddenly came from outside the door.
Shredder's face changed drastically. He threw down the box of gold bars in his hand and quickly walked to a corner of the Secret Room.
On the humanoid wooden stand there, a set of all-metal samurai armor was placed, its bright silver color shining brilliantly under the Secret Room's light.
...
At this time, outside the Foot Clan's Manor Stronghold, Frank was holding a PKM general-purpose machine gun and firing wildly at the Foot Clan's Stronghold.
This heavy machine gun, produced in the former Soviet Union, used 7.62mm bullets, had a magazine capacity of 100 rounds, weighed over ten kilograms, and was originally intended for use with a tripod.
Frank held it directly in his hands. The powerful recoil seemed to have no effect on him. The fire snake sprayed by the machine gun illuminated the night sky for a moment.
Behind him, over a dozen large men were all holding heavy weapons such as pump-action shotguns and machine guns, providing fire suppression against the gunmen in the Manor.
As the Foot Clan's last Stronghold, this Manor had at least fifty gunmen distributed within it. However, compared to the heavy weapons in Frank's hands.
The firearms of these gunmen were at most handguns and submachine guns.
Facing weapons like heavy machine guns, the Foot Clan gunmen inside the Manor were so suppressed they didn't even dare to show their heads.
"Trouble!"
Frank looked at the sky and then down at his special watch. There were only two hours left until dawn.
