
Tonight, the New York sky seemed to spit upon Marco Rossi’s fate. The Port of New York and New Jersey: a vast harbor area around the mouth of the Hudson River, managed by the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey (PANYNJ). Heavy rain poured down on Pier 4, mixing the salty fish smell of the sea with the stench of rusty iron and the metallic tang of blood. What went wrong with his dream? He only wanted to be a responsible head of the family, to enjoy simple happiness with Maria and Sofia, even though his profession was merely that of a rough dockworker. Until that incident came.
CRASH! Marco's body was sent flying, smashing into the shipping containers lined up in the corner of the harbor. Fresh blood streamed from his temple due to the violent impact. "I'm sorry, Boss… I don't have the money yet," Marco pleaded, "My wages are still tied up. Give me more time, Boss," he begged, trying to withstand the searing pain in his temple. "Hey, moron, you can't just expect things to go your way! Do you think only your family needs to eat, huhh!" Rizyo roared, "Do you think my Boss is some kind of philanthropist? My Boss is a loan shark, idiot!" "Stop running your mouth! Give him an inch and he'll take a mile!" Tony yelled, "It's been too long, let’s beat this loser up, Zyo!" THWACK! CRACK! BAMMM! "Arrrgh...!" Marco stumbled, his mouth hitting the concrete asphalt. His body was soaked in puddles of rainwater mixed with his flowing blood. "Enough!" Rizyo and Tony turned toward the command from the dominant voice. "Drag him! Don't let him die yet, you fools! I want him to be conscious when the salt water enters his lungs!" The voice sounded threatening, heavy, hoarse, and full of dissatisfaction—it belonged to Vinnie "The Shark," the loan shark boss who controlled the harbor territory. Marco felt his back burn agonizingly as he was dragged across the coarse concrete of the dock. His cheap white shirt was shapeless, ripped here and there, soaked in a mixture of rainwater, mud, and his own dripping blood. "Uugghh..." Marco tried to groan, but only bloody foam came out of his mouth. His jaw felt loose, perhaps fractured. One of his eyes was completely swollen shut, leaving only a blurry view from his barely open left eye. "Stop!" Vinnie commanded. The grip on Marco's collar released. His body was simply dumped into a puddle of dirty water. "Get up! You bastard," another voice chimed in. Tony, Vinnie's right-hand man who had a penchant for knives, "Boss said get up!!" A fierce kick landed on Marco's ribs. CRACK! "ARRGGHH!" Marco coughed, spitting fresh blood onto Tony's expensive leather shoes. "Dog! My shoes, you son of a bitch!" Tony screamed, ready to deliver a second kick, but Vinnie raised a hand. Vinnie approached, crouching down in front of Marco. His greasy face was illuminated by the dim harbor floodlights. He smiled, showing his disgusting gold teeth. "Look at your condition now, Marco," Vinnie said softly, as if speaking to an old friend. He grabbed Marco’s hair, forcing him to look up, "A lowlife dockworker. A failed husband. A pathetic father. Do you want to know why you ended up like this?!" Marco spat, "Ptuuih!" a mix of saliva and blood landing squarely on Vinnie’s cheek. Silence fell momentarily. Only the sound of the rain battering the steel containers could be heard. Vinnie’s men held their breath. Vinnie wasn't angry. Instead, he laughed. A dry, horrifying laugh. He wiped the spittle away with a silk handkerchief, then... BAMMM!! A straight punch slammed into Marco’s nose. The sound of breaking bones echoed loudly, "Aarrgghh...!" "Because you're an idiot!!" Vinnie hissed right into Marco’s ringing ear, "You borrowed money from me... to pay off your moron brother's gambling debt. fifty thousand dollars, Marco. And now? It's been a week past the deadline, idiot!" "I... I will pay..." Marco forced the words out from his swollen throat, "Give... me time..." "Time?! One week wasn't enough, huhh?!" Vinnie stood up, gesturing toward the dark sea at the end of the pier, "Your time ran out since sundown, buddy. And you know the rules, don't you?" He paused, then finished, "Okay. Tony, Rizyo, lift this damned trash!" Two pairs of muscular hands grabbed Marco's arms. He was forcibly dragged toward the edge of the pier. His legs trailed uselessly behind him. "Don't... Vinnie, please," Marco begged, not for his own life, but the faces of Maria and Sofia flashed through his mind. If he died here, who would protect them? The debt would fall to his wife and child, "My wife... my daughter..." "Oh, don't worry about Maria," Vinnie gave an obscene smirk, "A young widow, beautiful, still tight. I'm sure many men will want to help her pay off your debt. Maybe I'll be stopping by often myself! Ha… ha… ha…" The thugs' laughter exploded in the rain. Marco's blood boiled instantly. Unbearable rage surged in his chest, but his body was already ruined. He tried to fight back, but Tony simply twisted his fractured arm. Marco suppressed a scream. They reached the edge of the pier. Below, the black seawater churned, freezing cold. New York in the winter was no place for a swim. Hypothermia would kill him before he could even drown. "Any last words?" Vinnie asked, lighting a cigarette and shielding the flame from the raindrops with his hand, "Or do you want to just check out immediately?!" Marco stared at Vinnie with his one remaining eye. A look of pure hatred. But his body was powerless. "Go to hell... you bastard!" Marco whispered. Vinnie shrugged, "Okay! Toss him in!!" Tony and Rizyo swung Marco's body. "One..." "Two..." "Three! Bye, Loser!" WHUUUSSSSHHHH. Marco's body soared... Marco saw the dark sky. He felt gravity pulling him toward death. Forgive me, Maria… Forgive your father, Sofia… for not being the best husband and father. I’m sorry I never had the chance to make you happy. Marco was battered, beaten half to death. Who would have thought that a problem created by his younger brother would lead to this terrible fate? He only intended to help his brother resolve his situation. Borrowing money from the wrong people, to pay off a gambling debt… a futile endeavor. Truly, no one knows a person's fate. Marco closed his eyes, hoping it was all just a dream. But this was the cruel reality of the world. The strong survive, the strong win. Marco was just a loser; he was helpless. Shattered and hopeless, even though he had tried. Time seemed to slow down; the falling rain felt suspended in the air. Cold... It wasn't the cold of the sea water. It was an odd, unfamiliar coldness. Suddenly, in front of his damaged retina, a blue light flared. Bright, sharp, and digital. A transparent screen floated in the air, following his falling gaze. [SYSTEM DETECTED] [HOST CONDITION: CRITICAL (LIFE EXPECTANCY: 2%)] [PHYSICAL DAMAGE: MULTIPLE FRACTURES, INTERNAL BLEEDING] Marco thought he had gone insane. What is this?! Is this my dying brain hallucinating? The text on the screen changed rapidly. [YOU WILL DIE IN 0.5 SECONDS UPON WATER IMPACT.] [DO YOU WISH TO LIVE?] [Y / N] Marco didn't understand. He didn't care if this was magic, technology, or the devil himself. Vinnie was still laughing up there. Maria is in danger, and Sofia still needs a father, the thought raced through Marco's mind. Marco did not want to die. And he couldn't die. In his mind, Marco screamed as loud as he could: YES! His hand, floating in the air, reflexively tried to reach for the glowing "Y" button. His fractured index finger touched the blue light. Click. [CONFIRMATION RECEIVED.] [ACTIVATING PROTOCOL: LIFE MODE.] [WARNING: THE MERGING PROCESS WILL BE EXTREMELY PAINFUL.] SPLASH! Marco’s body hit the surface of the icy water. Darkness. Bone-chilling cold. Salt water rushed into his nose and mouth. Marco sank... ***Latest Chapter
SERIES 2: RULING THE STREETS Chapter 16: Dirty Business, Clean Face
Money smells.Not a poetic metaphor about sin or crime, but literally, it smells.Inside the newly renovated Black Dragon warehouse, piles of small and large dollar bills were stacked like mountains on an old ping-pong table. The money was damp, moldy, smelling fishy of blood, thug sweat, and leftover cocaine."Damn, is this money or garbage?" complained Julian.The "Joker" was standing in front of an ironing board, holding a hot steam iron. His right hand held a wet $100 bill, his left hand ironed it.PFFT... PFFT...Steam billowed. The bill became dry and stiff."What the hell are you doing, Idiot?" asked Marco, who had just entered the room. He had just finished his morning sparring session with Bruno (which ended with Bruno being thrown into a wall)."Laundering money, Boss! Liter
Chapter 15: The Butcher's Head
EMERALD TOWER - 20TH FLOOR (PENTHOUSE) - 06:30 AMGolden morning sunlight pierced through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the luxurious penthouse. In the distance, the Statue of Liberty looked tiny amidst the glittering bay.Silas "The Butcher" Vance sat on a black leather sofa, sipping his morning Espresso. His legs were crossed casually on the marble table. A Bluetooth headset was in his ear."It's done, Don," Silas said calmly. "The rats walked into the trap at the slaughterhouse. I rained three hundred bullets on them and blew up the gas tank. No survivors!"On the other end of the line, Don Costello's raspy voice sounded satisfied. "Good, Silas. Make sure the bodies disappear. I don't want the police sniffing around!""Of course. My men are cleaning up the charcoal remains right now. Pier 4 is clean again."Silas hung up. He smiled, staring at his reflection in the window glass. Neat, elegant, deadly. He had just taken care of a small problem named Marco Rossi. Now, he could
Chapter 14: The Price of a Friend's Life
Rain poured down on Chinatown with an intensity that seemed to want to drown out every sin in New York.A black van with a dented rear door sped through the streets, smashed into a trash can, and screeched to a sudden halt in front of a shophouse bearing the sign "Dr. Li's Acupuncture & Veterinary Clinic.""Open up! Open the door, Mad Doctor!" Julian banged on the steel rolling shutter with the handle of his gun. "We need a workshop!"The iron door lifted slowly with a painful creak. An old man with narrow eyes, thick glasses, and a clove cigarette hanging from his lips appeared. He was wearing a doctor's coat that was no longer white."Quiet, you bastards," Dr. Li swore in a mix of Mandarin and rough English. "If this is about a dog choking on a bone again, I will—"His words cut off when he saw Julian and Marco supporting—or rather, dragging—Bruno's giant body inside. Blood dripped from their clothes, creating a red trail on the clinic floor that smelled of antiseptic and incense."
Chapter 13: Silas's Trap
"You sure this intel is solid, Rat?"Marco pressed the barrel of his Magnum against the temple of a skinny informant trembling in the interrogation chair. The informant, a meth addict named Rico, nodded frantically until his teeth chattered."I swear, Boss! I swear to God!" Rico wailed. "I heard Silas's men talking in the bar myself. Tonight at 2 AM. At the old Slaughterhouse in the Meatpacking District. Silas is meeting a weapons supplier from Russia. He’ll be there without heavy security because it’s a secret meeting!"Marco pulled back his gun. His eyes narrowed, scanning Rico’s face with the System.[LIE ANALYSIS: NEGATIVE.][SUBJECT IS SPEAKING WHAT HE BELIEVES TO BE THE TRUTH.]"Okay," Marco holstered his weapon. He threw a wad of cash into Rico's lap. "Scram. If you’re lying, I’ll hunt you down even in hell!"Rico snatched the money and scrambled out of the headquarters in a panic."I don't like the smell of this, Boss," Bruno's deep voice came from the corner of the room. He w
Chapter 12: Maria's Temptation
The afternoon sun streamed through the gaps in the apartment's thin curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The apartment was silent. Sofia was at school, and Marco hadn't returned from his new "office" (Vinnie's old warehouse, which was currently being renovated into a fortress).Maria Rossi was kneeling on the bedroom floor.Before her, a black duffel bag lay open. The bag Marco had hidden behind the dresser, beneath a pile of musty, old blankets.Maria had stumbled upon it while tidying up the winter clothes. At first, she thought it was a weapon. Her heart nearly stopped. But when she opened the zipper...It wasn't cold steel she found.But paper. Thousands of sheets of dull green paper.Money.Stacks of $50 and $100 bills, bound with rubber bands. The smell was distinct—a mix of ink, sweat, and... a faint, metallic scent of blood.Maria didn't scream. She didn't call the police. She didn't even feel the fear she had felt the night Silas came.Instead, her breath qui
Chapter 11: The Night of the Long Knives
LOCATION 1: FOOTBALL GAMBLING SHOP AT 01:00The sound of gunfire in the narrow shophouse was deafening, like firecrackers exploding in an iron can."DIE YOU! DIE!" a casino guard screamed hysterically, firing his Uzi rifle blindly at the overturned billiards table.Bullets tore the table's green flannel, sawdust flying. But there was no one there."Where is he?!" shouted his friend who was shaking holding the gun, "Where is that demon?!"From the darkness of the ceiling, a black shadow fell.Marco didn't hide behind the table. He was hanging from the water pipe above their heads.He landed soundlessly behind the holder of the Uzi.[ACTIVE SKILL: CQC MASTERY (CLOSE QUARTERS COMBAT)][TARGET: NECK, KIDNEY.]Marco stabbed his dagger into the man's right kidney. JLEB."ARGH!"Before the man could fall, Marco used his body as a living shield. His panicked friend shot.BANG! BANG!The bullet hit the chest of the Uzi holder who was already dying. Marco was safe behind the corpse.Coldly, Mar
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