The young African American woman, Misty, curled her lips as she drove. "Boss, we've been patrolling the area recently. Apart from a few thieves, we haven't seen any weed sellers, robbers, or robbers. I think there's a problem here. "
The middle-aged man raised an eyebrow. "What problem?"
Misty said, "This is the Clinton area, the legendary Hell's Kitchen. There were a few major murders at the end of last year. What's it like this year? Apart from the dilapidated houses, the security isn't any worse than the Upper West Side. Is that reasonable? "
The middle-aged man smiled. "So? Do you think it should always be so chaotic? "
Misty shook her head. "Of course not, but … the improvement in security here has nothing to do with us. Boss, you encouraged me before we came and said that we had to risk our lives for it to be effective. Now … "
The middle-aged man subconsciously scratched his head.
He had always been very steady, but he still felt awkward when faced with this thorny question from his loyal subordinate.
If he had known this would happen, he wouldn't have made the situation sound so serious. His subordinate had nowhere to vent his fighting spirit and could only drag her out to patrol the streets. He sighed inwardly.
"Haven't you heard?" he finally said. "Too many superheroes have appeared here. It's not just the Clinton area. All of Manhattan is no longer suitable for gang members. Otherwise, they'll either suffer multiple fractures or concussions. Hoodlums have to pay to see a doctor. "
Hearing that, Misty finally found a target to vent her anger on. "But isn't this our job? Why do we have to let these 'vigilantes' do it? If they're done, what's the point of the 15th Precinct? "
The middle-aged man lowered his chair a little to make his tired waist more comfortable. "If it weren't for them, do you think we could've cleaned up the 15th Precinct with all our might? I'm afraid we would've been shot by gang members several times already. "
Misty snorted. "I'm not afraid."
The middle-aged man said, "Hey, I have a wife and daughter. I'm afraid, okay?"
Misty didn't want to listen to this nonsense. If her boss was afraid, why would he take over as the director of the 15th Precinct and clean up the illegal police?
But perhaps he was still afraid. No one wanted their family to be attacked by gangsters.
However, now that the gangsters were being wiped out by superheroes one after another, the unscrupulous officers in the 15th Precinct were like water without a source.
Without a gang that colluded with each other, many of the methods of these undercover police officers could not be used.
At the very least, it was hard for them to say that the shooting threat was the work of gangsters, because everyone knew that the gangs in Clinton had long been beaten to a pulp and had left the area.
Without any gangsters to obstruct their line of sight, these undercover officers would immediately be targeted if they dared to shoot.
With the full support of the headquarters, the director would definitely seize the opportunity to take down one or two local factions.
At that time, these people didn't even have the chance to resign. They could only go to prison together.
Thinking of this, the director of the 15th Sub-Bureau, who had only been in office for a few months, had a bitter smile on his face.
If things were too difficult, it wouldn't be a good thing.
But it didn't feel good to be done by someone else before he could do anything.
For example, he and Misty had landed in the 15th Precinct with considerable "courage" and were prepared to clear this hell dungeon.
Before they punched, they thought that their target was an iron plate, but after they punched, they realized that what they were facing was just a lump of black cotton.
After a long silence, he said, "No matter what happens in the future, we've still taken back 15% of the game. Even if these superheroes don't appear again in the future, we'll still have more power to maintain order in Clinton, right? "
Misty was silent for a moment before she pounded the steering wheel in frustration. "But I can't accept it. I'm not from the Internal Affairs Division. Why am I spending all my energy on investigating undercover police officers every day? "
The middle-aged man didn't say anything else.
Everyone understood that it was a good thing that his subordinate was passionate about her work, so he wouldn't discourage her.
It was better to hold it in. Once people were satisfied, it was easy for them to slack off, and they wouldn't be able to react in time if an emergency happened.
Thinking that, he couldn't help but think of the peaceful streets on the way here, and he wondered, Would there really be an emergency here?
…
Two days later, at noon, the clone strolled on the streets of New York with Big Ben's face. Beside him was a middle-aged man whose face could only be described as beautiful. He was Ivan after plastic surgery.
The clone, who was wearing a custom-made suit, was in stark contrast to Ivan, who was wearing simple work clothes. What they had in common was that both of them were very attractive to women.
Big Ben's face was masculine and handsome. Coupled with his black-rimmed glasses, he had a tall and sturdy body and a calm temperament. He was a typical "elite."
Ivan's face, on the other hand, was handsome. He didn't need to disguise himself to have a decadent and dark temperament, making him look even more like a prodigal son.
Luke only took up thirty percent of the women's attention, while Ivan took up seventy percent.
But after a few more glances, many women would turn their attention to Luke.
It wasn't because Luke was more attractive, but because he was clearly dressed richer.
In a place like Manhattan, most people were clearly more interested in money, both men and women.
The two of them didn't care about these gazes as they walked leisurely.
Ivan raised his head and looked at the STARK logo on the top of a tall building not far away. "Hehe, rich people."
Luke said, "Actually, he isn't the richest second generation kid on Earth."
Ivan hummed in response. A moment later, when he didn't hear an answer, he couldn't help but turn his head. "Why aren't you talking?"
Luke chuckled. "My information is very valuable."
In his previous life, he hadn't paid much attention to Marvel, and hadn't seen the later movies, but he had heard a little about a certain "gold" mine whose assets far exceeded Stark's.
But he had only heard of it. He hadn't even read the introduction for the movie. He had only seen a lot of people complain that the movie was made for African-Americans.
Luke, on the other hand, hadn't been African-Americans in either of his lives.
This information was useful, but it wouldn't be of any use in the short term.
It was useless to say it. It was actually a big secret.
Naturally, he wouldn't be so stupid as to tell Ivan, a probationary "employee." No normal boss in this world would casually reveal high-level information to their employees.
Besides, Ivan, who was "alive" to investigate, could still play around so leisurely. Thankfully, the bad things he had done before weren't serious.
Luke didn't have to care about people who were slightly evil.
Letting this guy be useful and provide technical services for the "vigilantes" in the future could be considered atonement for his crimes.
At that moment, the two of them reached Central Station.
Luke raised his hand and said, "Lunch first."
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
