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Page 94
"Do I look like someone who could steal God, buddy?" Philip chuckled foolishly.
Davis looked back at him, gave a helpless chuckle, and continued looking ahead.
"I……"
He was about to say something when suddenly he stopped in his tracks.
"Hmm?" The other four also stopped, waiting for the sergeant's next move.
Davis looked ahead and saw two sneaky-looking boys, each carrying a bag, near a roadside billboard. They looked around warily, then glared at the sergeant and his group before darting into a gap in a nearby building.
"What the hell did you see, bro?" Taylor's voice was loud, unlike that of a disciplined person.
Davis took the pistol and holster off his belt, stuffed it into his pants, and then smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes.
"Come with me, guys, we have a case. Next... battle formation!..."
……
Five soldiers cautiously turned into the filthy alley. Here, there was no glaring sunlight; the walls were covered in green moss and peeling paint, along with yellowed advertisements and notices. The garbage heap at the corner looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a long time; it was not only swarming with flies but also covered with a thin layer of dust, presenting a completely different scene of filth and disorder from the main street outside.
"Tsk tsk, another 'Hooverville' in a metropolis?" Clark's long-absent quip was quite timely.
“Slow down, brothers, tread lightly.” Davis looked down at the footprints in the dust and mud on the ground, trying to determine if they were fresh.
Everyone sensed something was wrong and stopped talking. Even Taylor nervously shut his mouth from whistling.
The further you walk into the streets and alleys, the darker it gets, and the further you drift away from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. The entire dirty brick maze is quiet, with an ominous aura emanating from it...
……
After turning countless corners and navigating numerous dead ends, the five of them finally descended a flight of stairs and followed the footprints to a relatively open area—however, the stairs they had just come down seemed to be made of bricks stacked like building blocks, without any cement plaster.
"Hmm?" Davis looked around. The open space was blocked off by a concrete wall, with an abandoned metal car shell in the middle, which looked a bit like a police car. There were two roller shutters on the right wall, and two roller shutters with an iron door on the left. It gave the impression that this place was like two large, closed-down street shops... Ugh, come on, what kind of shops would open here?
"What do we do now?" Garcia asked first. "We may have fallen into an ambush."
“You’re right, kid,” Davis said calmly. “But listen to me, don’t panic. Running now might make things worse.”
Looking down, I suddenly noticed something of an odd color on the grayish-white ground.
He was about to take a step and walk towards the object.
"Who gave you permission to move?!"
A burst of arrogant and contemptuous words came, startling the soldiers. Just as Davis was about to look in the direction of the voice, someone threw a stone at the back of his head.
"oh!……"
Just as he was scratching his head, suddenly, a large pile of wooden crates and iron parts fell from the building, blocking the soldiers' way with a crash. At almost the same moment, the roller shutters on both sides were all lifted open with a crash!
"Wow, God..."
Philip looked around and saw a large group of young men with fierce expressions rushing out from behind the open roller shutter door. At least twenty pairs of legs, like a herd of wild horses, formed a dark, semi-circular human barrier, forcing the soldiers against a wall.
The soldiers remained silent, making no unnecessary movements, quietly watching the young men wielding sticks, machetes, brass knives, and other weapons—dressed in casual clothes, their bare upper bodies revealing bizarre tattoos. Strangely enough, there were girls among them, each with their hair dyed a garish purple or greenish-blue, their once fair and pretty faces adorned with stars of varying sizes and colors.
The other four were fine, but Davis was slightly worried about Clark, who had a prosthetic leg. Confirming that these bastards wouldn't attack for the time being, he cautiously looked back. Thankfully, Clark didn't seem afraid; he just glanced down at his prosthetic leg, revealing a hint of unease.
"Oh my! Look what kind of guests they are!"
A boisterous shout came from behind the crowd. The young people quickly moved aside to make way for a guy wearing a leather jacket and a red headscarf. He slowly picked up something from the ground and put it in his mouth. Davis thought for a moment and realized that the shiny thing he had seen on the ground was this guy's gold tooth.
"Oh? I've never seen this police uniform before?" The man in the red headscarf slowly approached, looking the soldier up and down.
Seeing that the five people didn't move, he snapped his fingers, and several young men came over.
"Don't worry, buddy, we won't kill you for now! Just take off your police badges and armbands and hand them over to us, and we'll make sure you don't get beaten up!"
Davis nodded and gestured with his eyes. The five soldiers then tore off their armbands and threw them on the ground in front of them.
"Hahaha! So obedient!" The woman with the red headscarf slowly picked up an armband, examined it for a while, and then shouted towards the iron gate that was still closed.
"Your Majesty! The subsidy has arrived!—"
As soon as he finished speaking, the iron gate was pushed open, and the soldiers watched silently as a well-dressed man walked out surrounded by his henchmen and stepped onto the wrecked police car.
"Tsk, nouveau riche?" Philip looked at the guy, who was about thirty years old, with a thick beard, a pipe, a gold chain, and clothes that were a bit dirty, but which looked like they belonged to an aristocrat.
The man in the red headscarf turned and walked towards the tycoon, handed him the armband, and then stood up next to him.
"My subjects! It's time for a speech!" The man in the red headscarf clapped his hands.
"Welcome to my country, gentlemen!" The tycoon finished speaking and raised his hands, and his henchmen shouted loudly.
"Roar!--"
“It’s been a long time since any police officer has dared to come to my territory without permission, huh?” He laughed. “Before you came to work in District 11, didn’t you hear of me, ‘Drug Shadow,’ or my ‘Tokyo Death Skull’?”
"These policemen aren't even all dressed the same, Your Majesty!" the man in the red headscarf chimed in. "Are they probably just young substitutes?"
……
Davis remained silent, but Taylor couldn't hold back any longer.
"Hey! Stop talking nonsense! You son of a bitch! We're tighter-lipped in the military than your zipper. Who knows you guys who unclog sewers?"
Davis slapped Taylor's arm and watched the thugs laugh.
"Hahahaha! Did you all hear that, everyone!" The woman in the red headscarf laughed the loudest, pointing at Taylor's nose. "Look! Another great savior! Hahaha! Watch closely! Your leader told you to behave yourself! What are you trying to do, trying to be the first to stick your neck out!"
"Sir..." Taylor couldn't save face and growled at Davis in a low voice, not wanting his former boss to be so cowardly.
"Alright, alright! Enough of that, everyone!" "Poison Shadow" clapped his hands. "How about we make a bet? You all seem pretty clueless, so I'll lower my price a bit: Next, you'll fight my subjects hand-to-hand. If you beat enough checkpoints, I'll let you go! Otherwise, you'll be locked up here for a while. Don't expect the other police brothers to come and rescue you; they're all afraid of me!"
“Well, you said it yourself, sir?” Davis seemed quite willing. “Come on, tell me, how do we plan to play the first game?”
"Same rules as always!" shouted the man in the red headscarf. "First round! You take one, we take one too!"
"Taylor, do your job well." Davis patted the soldier on the shoulder and then led the other three men back.
"Wh-what?..." Taylor was still in a daze when, in front of him, amidst the frenzied battle shouts of his henchmen, a cocky brat walked towards him, twisting his neck and grinning wickedly.
"Hey! Dude! What are you good at?" His nose ring twitched as he spoke.
"Me? Legs!"
"Oh! Looks like you're pretty good at running away, huh? Shall I count how many deserters you are? Ha!"
With a loud laugh, the man with the nose ring charged at Taylor, fist in hand.
"Well, that's too slow..."
Nose Ring paused for a moment, then suddenly, Taylor leaped up with lightning speed and kicked him, sending him flying into the crowd right in front of the henchmen.
"Dig, dig, dig..."
The battle cries subsided slightly, and as the man with the nose ring clutched his chest, groaning and trying to get up, Taylor arrived first.
"Come here! Come here! You son of a bitch!" He grabbed the nose ring's trouser leg and dragged him back to the center of the field like a garbage bag.
"Now it's your turn to run, huh?!"
He cursed and raised his foot, stomping directly on the nose ring's knee!
"You fucking dare to mess with me again! You think you're so tough!" With that, he kicked him a few more times, leaving Nose Ring with almost no strength left to even lie on the ground and groan.
Chapter 89, Section 140: Stand at attention!
"Oh ho?" The man in the red headscarf looked somewhat surprised. "Wait a minute, buddy! Looks like I underestimated you a bit?"
Taylor gave him a smug look, then kicked the nose ring one last time, and had the other two thugs take him away.
“In that case, your arena will have to be made a bit more difficult.” “Poison Shadow” smiled. “Come on, second round, you send two people, and we’ll send three? If it’s too easy to win, I won’t find it interesting to watch.”
"Really?" Davis pursed his lips, turned around and was about to call Garcia over, but found that the guy was holding his head, panting heavily, and his whole body was trembling slightly.
"What are you doing, buddy? Don't embarrass the guys at the whole university."
"Huh?" Garcia slowly raised his head, then stammered as he walked forward and stood in a row with Taylor.
The thugs started making a fuss again, and three strong men came instead.
"Hey! Dude!" Taylor twisted his wrist and swung his leg, starting with a provocation, "You're just chubby!"
The three thugs didn't waste any time arguing with the two of them; they attacked together immediately.
"Ha!" It seems Taylor's previous behavior had stirred up quite a bit of hatred in him; two out of the three were directly targeting him. But that wouldn't faze him. He'd just go for it head-on, first using his leg to knock down the one facing forward, then giving the other a back choke. What if the one on the ground tried to get up? He'd just give him a few more kicks with his heels, and that would be it.
Garcia was in a rather strange situation; he and the thug were entangled with their four arms tightly, and neither of them could throw the other to the ground—this didn't seem like the behavior of a former paratrooper.
"Hey, hey, hey! You coward!" the thug sneered first. "Look at you, rolling your eyes and panting. Are you suffering from kidney deficiency or just putting on airs?"
But then the thug sensed something was wrong, because looking at Garcia's expression, it didn't seem like he was acting.
"Drink it!—"
Suddenly, Garcia yelled and threw the thug to the ground with an over-the-shoulder throw, knocking him out of the game. But he didn't seem to be stopping because of his battlefield experience. He was like a desperate criminal, yelling again and then raising his foot high before slamming it down hard. His heel hit the unfortunate guy in the chest like a hoe!
And what about Taylor? He had just stood up from the ground, with a limp, lifeless pig lying on the ground beneath him, the one whose neck he had just strangled for half a day. Next to him was another guy clutching his calves and knees, rolling around on the ground in pain.
"Hey, hey, hey? Dude?" Taylor saw Garcia still spouting off incoherent sentences, punching the thug lying on the ground, seemingly very excited.
"That's enough, that's enough!" Even the soldier couldn't stand it anymore and quickly pulled him away.
The thugs fell silent, staring at Garcia's increasingly distorted face, their faces still contorted with rage. Some were rubbing their fists together, others were touching their clubs, exuding a strong sense of tension.
"Can't accept defeat or what? Is this how you treat people?" The red-banded man looked at Garcia and sneered.
“There needs to be some serious punishment for violations,” “Drug Addiction” remarked.
"Alright! Now, next up! 'Outsiders'! You've joined us as the third person! We're going to have five wolves with their fangs replaced handle this! We'll stop here!"
"'Losing teeth'?" Taylor was slapping Garcia's face to try and bring him to his senses when Philip walked over first, patted both of them on the shoulder, and rolled up his sleeves.
Hallelujah, Motherfucker! Tickets to God's doorstep on fire sale!
Next, five more ungrateful brats raised their immature fists at them.
"Come on! Hahahaha!" The three of them didn't find it difficult at all. These small bodies were not as strong as the previous four people, and they were no match for the German soldiers who fought with bayonets and killed each other back then.
But at that moment, things started to go wrong for Garcia – not only was the soldier's breathing becoming increasingly rapid, but for some reason, the kid in front of him suddenly put his hands behind his back.
Immediately afterward, the boy raised his arm high, a flash of light appeared in his hand, and the shadow of a dagger struck his nose!
The thug looked at the soldier, thinking he would be scared, but to his surprise, Garcia flew into a rage and, like a mad lion, used all his strength to push the thug back, snatch his knife, and flip him to the ground, skin and all, and then tightly wrapped his arms around his neck.
……
Just as he was holding this stinky head, one of the two men attacking Taylor grabbed the soldier, while the other, who had somehow donned brass knuckles, went up and punched Taylor twice in the face.
Philip's situation is also not optimistic. The two thugs have suddenly become aggressive, forcing him to be on high alert and he can only hesitate to retaliate.
……
"Hahahaha!" The man in the red headscarf burst into laughter. "You really are a clueless newbie! Trying to finish someone off after they've already fallen is bound to cause a brawl!"
"Hahahahahahahaha!—"
The henchmen roared with laughter, but a few of them noticed that Garcia's condition was getting increasingly strange—he was baring his teeth and shaking his head wildly. Suddenly, the guy in front of him, whose neck he was still holding, made a crisp sound of bones breaking, startling the thugs who had been cheering just a second ago.
That one move just now snapped the thug's neck!
"Ughhhhhh!!!" Garcia roared with murderous intent as he stood up, grabbed the dagger that had fallen to the ground, and charged forward, rushing towards the two men who were attacking Taylor! The two thugs never expected that Garcia would leap up and fly towards the person closest to him, gripping the dagger tightly and shoving it into his eye.
"My God..." The thugs were terrified. Although bloodshed was not uncommon in fights, they had never seen two people killed in one fell swoop without a word. When the thugs who were besieging Taylor and Philip saw that things were not going well, they all went to besiege Garcia, but he slashed wildly with his blade and left them covered in wounds and unable to get up.
But it wasn't just the henchmen who were panicking. Garcia had cut them down. Taylor and Philip tried to stop him, but with him swinging his knife like a madman, wouldn't anyone who went up to him just be a victim?
Gradually, Garcia's movements slowed slightly, and before him, the thugs had already prepared their weapons...
"Go ahead!——"
At his command, the thugs, wielding clubs and machetes, charged at the three. Garcia slashed down the leader with a single blow, snatched his fire axe, and began hacking wildly at the surrounding area while letting out a terrifying roar.
Although Taylor and Philip didn't want to deal with that crazy old man anymore, their fighting spirit remained undiminished. One grabbed a baseball bat, and the other snatched a machete. In an instant, three white military uniforms splattered with blood were mixed up with a dozen or twenty half-naked bodies. The thugs surrounded the soldiers in the middle, charging forward in groups of three or four. The soldiers either fell to the ground with deep wounds on the spot, or retreated in fear after a few moves.
In this situation, Taylor and Philip are undoubtedly the worst off. They not only have to deal with the thugs' fists and kicks, but also have to keep their distance from Garcia. That guy is acting strangely now; he can't tell friend from foe. He'll swing an axe at anyone who gets close. If you let a pack of wolves rush in, they might all be chopped into meat products.
As for Davis and Clark? They remained obediently pressed against the wall, facing the four thugs—they were staring intently at the two men, trembling, occasionally glancing back at the heated "arena," worried that the three mad soldiers might suddenly come from behind and end their lives.
“Don’t be afraid, kid.” Davis took a step back and whispered to Clark, who was standing behind him holding him, “Take the pistol and holster out of my pants and tuck it behind my belt. The gun is on the outside of my right thigh.”
……