American Comics: BOSS Invasion

Alice nodded. "I understand. If that's your final answer, we'll respect your choice. Perhaps you simply don't understand the power of the Vengeance Foundation. You can inquire about it yourself. We'll need to make some moves in the near future, and inevitably cause some commotion. Otherwise, we wouldn't be found."

Alice stood up, looking at Penguin and said, "Oswald Cobblepot, some opportunities only come once in a lifetime. I hope you'll carefully consider the Vengeance Foundation's goodwill."

"In our calculations, with your abilities and personality, becoming a powerful figure shouldn't be too difficult. But man proposes, God disposes. Some things, once missed, are gone forever!"

Alice took a small silver-white phone from her handbag, with a burning skull on the back, and gently placed it on the table. "If you want to change your mind, please do so as soon as possible. Time waits for no one, and you're not the only target!"

With that, Alice turned and left.

Penguin shrugged, saying nothing, his eyes fixed on the strange icon.

That icon looks familiar. It seems I've seen it somewhere before. Where was it…

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On a worn wooden plaque, the same icon was engraved, the flames and skull filled with color, making it even more conspicuous in the light.

It even overshadowed the tavern's sign.

But Falk didn't mind. He was even proud of the icon.

He never expected that an unintentional change would turn his half-dead tavern into a gathering place for desperados.

This is Gotham. The one thing it doesn't lack is people willing to risk their lives for money.

The bounty system was particularly effective. At first, everyone thought it was just a decoration and didn't pay attention.

But there's always a first time. After a desperate drunkard vaguely accepted a bounty and, fueled by alcohol, directly eliminated the target…

The bag of money instantly ignited the desperado circle.

In just two weeks, Falk's tavern went from a rural retirement home to a dangerous underground exchange.

Every night, a large number of strangely shaped individuals would gather here, vying for high and tempting bounties.

Desperados came and went. Some returned quickly, carrying a dripping suitcase. Some returned covered in wounds, bringing back an equally broken corpse. But many never returned.

Even so, the number of people in the tavern never decreased, but continued to increase.

Bang!

Several burly men rushed in, led by a Russian.

The door was kicked open, shattering the balanced atmosphere in the tavern. Many fierce gazes shot over. The Russian paused slightly, but glared back even more fiercely.

He was here to find the boss today and didn't have time to argue with these idiots.

He quickly located Falk and strode over.

"Hey, old man, I heard you can buy weapons here?"

Falk's expression didn't change. Perhaps two weeks ago, he wouldn't have been able to remain so calm. But anyone who deals with these bastards every day can develop a poker face in two weeks.

Facts have already proven that no one can refuse money.

This is the only publicly accessible underground exchange in all of Gotham. If it were destroyed, wouldn't their source of income be cut off?

That would be a great hatred. As long as they want to earn money continuously, constantly earning commissions, they won't allow anyone to harm themselves, and besides…

Falk's eyes were steady. He thought of a scene from an afternoon a few days ago. Four modified Xiao Jie cannons locked in the corner. Once they detect a fatal danger to himself, they will immediately jump out and kill the enemy.

So, he really didn't take this fierce-looking guy in front of him seriously.

"What do you need?" Falk said calmly. "This is just a tavern. Besides alcohol, I don't provide other goods on hand. Leave your request, and I'll ask around. If you can accept the price, leave your address, and it will arrive by noon tomorrow at the latest!"

"Hey, you even deliver to the door. You're running a big business, old man. Aren't you afraid you won't get paid?"

The Russian said sarcastically.

Falk glanced at him and shook his head slightly. "Looks like you're not here to do business. What do you want?"

"What do I want? Don't play dumb with me. Running a weapons business without reporting to Mr. Falcone, are you disrespecting Falcone?"

Hearing Falcone's name, Falk paused for a moment, then nodded. "So it's you. I understand. Please wait a moment!"

Falk took out a phone from under the counter. Just as he was about to dial, the Russian suddenly pulled out a gun, pointing it directly at his brow, and said, "Calling? You have a lot of ideas. What, want to call the police?"

Falk glanced at him and said indifferently, "Young man, if I were you, I would have warned myself before coming in, never to point a gun, otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?"

"Look behind you before you speak!"

The Russian looked back, his hair almost standing on end.

He pressed a few numbers, and the call was quickly connected.

"Sorry to bother you, but I have a situation here that may require your attention! Hmm, not an important figure, just a little guy under Falcone suddenly popped up, probably investigating something. His mouth has already been pried open. What else should we prepare for him?

I understand!"

After hanging up the phone, Falk said calmly, "The Gentleman will be here soon! He's a bit far away, so it may take a little time. So until then, please stay quiet for a while."

After saying this, Falk raised his voice slightly and said, "Gentleman authorized, temporary emergency mission, help me tie these guys up and throw them into the warehouse, bounty of one thousand dollars!"

As soon as this was said, everyone's eyes lit up.

Two bald burly men rushed over first, grabbed the Russian, and punched him hard in the head, causing blood to spurt from his nostrils as he fell to the ground.

The others were frightened, holding their guns tightly, not daring to relax at all. Unfortunately, they ignored the back. An old-fashioned shotgun stretched out, directly against the back of one of the guys.

"Don't move, I don't want to turn my tavern into a slaughterhouse. The bloody smell is too strong, I don't like it!"

A group of people swarmed up, excitedly tying the Russian and his men into dumplings.

He lay on the ground, still with some disbelief in his eyes. "How dare you? I represent Mr. Falcone. Are you crazy? Who are you people?"

"Us?" Falk thought for a moment and smiled. "Last time I checked, it seems I've become a member of the Vengeance Foundation!"