Old William Sommerset was near his retirement period. He had seen too much of New York—too many bodies, too many broken families, too many killers who believed themselves to be artists. David Mills' arrival, however, was about to drag the veteran detective into one of the most unforgettable cases of his long career.
Luca, on the other hand, remained completely unfazed.
The killer that the police duo would eventually struggle against meant nothing to him. If necessary, he could eliminate that so-called mastermind himself and casually collect the system rewards along the way. But before dealing with that future problem, there was unfinished business in the present.
Norman Stansfield.
The goods had been recovered. Mr. Lando was dead. The root of Matilda's suffering had been torn out.
The family that once served as her prison was now crumbling beyond repair. For Matilda, that collapse was not tragedy—it was liberation. She could finally begin again.
As for Stansfield…
He had completed his role.
Now he could die.
Downstairs.
David Mills slid into William Somerset's car, and the two drove toward Wall Street. Two days earlier, there had been a shooting on 38th Street—an elderly man killed by a single bullet. That very morning, another man, a stockbroker, had been shot dead on Wall Street in almost identical fashion.
Both victims had been walking alone. Both had been speaking on their phones. Both had been taken out by precise long-range sniping.
They had no social connection whatsoever.
Yet the method was identical.
The cases were merged.
"Mills, let's revisit Wall Street and pull surveillance from the surrounding shops," William said calmly. "Maybe we'll spot something we missed."
David shrugged, not particularly hopeful. A professional sniper would never expose himself to nearby cameras. Footage from storefronts was unlikely to reveal anything substantial.
His interest was elsewhere.
"I heard the stockbroker worked for a major firm," David said. "Owner's rich. Big name on Wall Street. They call him something like 'The Wolf of Wall Street,' right?"
William did not respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the road.
New York was full of wolves.
---
Two nights later, inside a Chinese restaurant in Manhattan, an unusually harmonious scene unfolded within a private room. Narcotics officers and gang members sat together around a low table, drinking alcohol and sharing food in a relaxed, almost festive atmosphere.
The police delivered goods.
The gang paid.
Everyone smiled.
Justice, apparently, had a market price.
In the adjacent private room, Luca and Leon were also having dinner.
Luca calmly took out a photograph and slid it across the table to Leon.
"This man is next door," he said. "We go in together. Kill everyone inside. I don't care if they're Chinese, American, or Martian. If they're breathing, they must die."
The photo showed Stansfield.
Leon studied it briefly and nodded. "Okay."
"Twenty thousand per head."
"Okay."
"Be careful."
"Okay."
Luca stared at him. "Can you please stop answering everything with 'okay'?"
"Okay."
Luca fell silent. The conversation felt like exchanging workplace messages where the only reply was a cold, numerical "1."
Fine. If you're happy, I'm happy.
They stood up simultaneously and retrieved their weapons.
Leon pushed the door open.
"Police! Freeze—"
Silenced shots interrupted the performance.
Three Triad members collapsed almost instantly, neat holes drilled into their foreheads.
Leon handled the precision. Luca preferred spectacle.
With fluid motion, Luca tossed a grenade into the room. The explosion ripped through the interior, shattering glass, overturning tables, and silencing half the occupants instantly. As the smoke expanded outward, Luca stepped through the doorway holding a submachine gun and swept the room with relentless fire.
It took less than ten seconds.
When the smoke cleared, every person inside was dead.
Leon quickly surveyed the corpses. "Stansfield isn't here."
Luca noticed the broken paper window panels fluttering in the wind and raised an eyebrow. "An S-rank card indeed. Hard to kill." he muttered.
Then he smiled faintly. "But with an SSR card in my hand, how can he escape?"
The window facing the alley was torn open.
"He ran," Luca said. "After him."
They leapt through the window one after another.
Ahead, Stansfield—dressed in a gray suit and limping badly—staggered down the alley in a desperate attempt to escape. Around the corner, more men in black suits emerged. Some carried pistols. Others held cleaver.
Luca smiled coldly. "Ah. The honorable spirit of Warrior."
Using Knife in America? Idiots, try this American-Style Martial Art!!!
The first wave charged.
Gunfire answered.
Luca moved between cover points with sharp efficiency, each bullet dropping an opponent. Leon moved like a phantom, his suppressed shots quiet and lethal, every trigger pull claiming a life.
Within moments, the alley was littered with bodies.
The remaining triad members fled in terror.
Luca ignored them. His eyes remained locked on Stansfield.
Leon was faster.
A single suppressed shot pierced Stansfield's back.
The once-mighty S-rank fell face-down onto the pavement.
The irony was almost poetic. In another version of events, Stan had shot Leon in the back. Now fate had reversed itself.
Luca approached to finish the job.
Stansfield, barely conscious, fumbled into his pocket, turned over with trembling effort, and began to speak.
"I am—"
A gunshot interrupted him.
A crimson hole bloomed in his forehead. His hand dropped limply, revealing a police badge in his palm.
Luca crushed it under his boot and kicked it aside.
"Damn it. You don't deserve to be a policeman."
System notifications immediately appeared before his eyes:
__________________________________________________________________________
You and Leon killed eight corrupt cops and twelve gang members.
You eradicated one of the DEA's biggest threats and defended the peace of New York.
[Gain Skill Points x20]
[Gain Skill Fragments x20]
[Current Remaining Skill Fragments: 74]
[With a 50% increase in scalp hair follicle cell activity, you will no longer be troubled by hair loss and baldness.]
__________________________________________________________________________
Even a strange bonus enhancing hair follicle activity.
Luca instinctively rubbed his hair and nodded in satisfaction. This skill was unexpectedly practical. Hair loss had always been a silent concern among many Italian men. With this enhancement, he could preserve his thick hair indefinitely.
---
Half an hour later, police sirens filled the night air.
David Mills stared at the massacre scene in shock. Narcotics officers and gang members alike lay sprawled across the ground. "Are New Yorkers insane?" he muttered. "They even dare to wipe out narcotics police?"
William remained composed. "Not often. Just occasionally."
"So many officers are dead, all shot."
"You get used to it."
William crouched down and picked up the documents from Stan's hand. "This was likely a gang feud. Stansfield used drug busts as an excuse to seize product and resell it. Many gangs wanted him dead. It was only a matter of time."
"Isn't cracking down on drugs their job?"
"Stansfield was still a dealer," William replied calmly. "He just wore a badge."
David fell silent. City life was far more chaotic than anything in his rural hometown.
Later that night, Luca visited Marigio's bar carrying stolen goods. Marigio embraced him enthusiastically, patting his back repeatedly. "Excellent! Excellent! Excellent! You truly deserve to be our ambassador of peace."
He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Within three days, you'll receive official notice from the Family. The Godfather will personally conduct your initiation ceremony. Buy yourself a proper high-end suit. Dress well."
Henry and Jimmy stood nearby, their envy barely concealed. Henry had dreamed of becoming a made man his entire life but remained only an outer associate. Jimmy earned substantial money but lacked the bloodline required for full membership. Luca's elevation was practically certain.
After leaving the bar, Luca handed them surplus goods worth over a million dollars. "One million to me. Split the remainder yourselves."
Jimmy's eyes gleamed with excitement. "When you become a full member, Luca, I'll host the celebration at my bar. We'll party all night."
A notification appeared quietly.
[Bond: Friends]
Luca glanced at his panel and noted that his relationship with Jimmy had reached the level of superficial friendship.
He activated the exchange.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Would you like to spend 20 Skill Fragments to exchange for "Greedy One"?]
[Yes/No]
"Yes."
[Redeem Successful. Skill Added.]
[Greedy One]
Each time illicit income is obtained, conversion rate of stolen money +5%.
Probability of triggering a police search –10%.
After eliminating teammates, conversion rate of stolen money +15% (additional).
[Remaining Skill Fragments: 54]
__________________________________________________________________________
The conversion rate did not create extra money out of thin air; rather, it reduced losses during money laundering and generated greater legitimate returns. The clause about eliminating teammates was morally abstract, but Luca found the skill highly satisfactory.
More importantly, reducing the probability of police searches would prove invaluable once he became a formal family member.
---
Three days later, on a quiet evening, Luca received a message from Marigio instructing him to dress formally the next day and accompany him on a confidential matter.
Luca had a strong intuition that tomorrow would be his initiation ceremony—his "lucky day."
Before attending, however, he had one final matter to arrange.
Matilda.
Since her family's destruction and Norman's death, she had moved away with her stepmother and sister. They had only spoken briefly by phone over the past few days.
Then, that night, Matilda appeared at Luca's door alone, carrying a bag.
She had run away from home.
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