Empire of Shadows

Lance turned his attention away from the homeless man. "I talked to Blue. We have to force their hand first."

He paused. "The war preparations remain the same. Being prepared against being unprepared gives us a high chance of winning, but we also need to be ready for the possibility that they might suddenly strike first."

"Once we push them too far, they might just take action directly."

Lance had Elvin find several bar locations, all not too far from the Red Dog Gang's bars, just a street or two away.

Logically speaking, competing with the Red Dog Gang's bars for customers wasn't going to be easy.

Drunkards are not only obsessed with alcohol, but also with the atmosphere of drinking. Once they get used to a certain bar's environment, it's hard to get them to drink somewhere else.

The Red Dog Gang's bars have been operating for a long time, with a steady increase in customers. Competing with them would be a bit difficult.

Moreover, with the two bars so close, there would definitely be direct competition, but Lance believed they had a big advantage because they had cheaper alcohol.

Maybe if the same drink was only five cents cheaper at Lance's place, it would only make those people waver, but if it was ten cents cheaper, they would definitely come over!

Compared to a familiar environment and atmosphere, being able to drink two glasses for the price of one was obviously more important. What did drunkards care about the most?

Of course, it was how much alcohol they could pump into their bloodstream!

The car drove back. That evening, Lance and Elvin went to see a gunsmith.

Alberto had mentioned this before to Lance. If they wanted to develop on a larger scale and with more order, then they'd better have their own 'talent'.

Like gunsmiths, mechanics, auto repairmen, etc. These professions might seem to have nothing to do with gangs or families, but they are precisely the core talents for a gang's development.

The role of a gunsmith doesn't need much explanation, just like Alberto's bearded guy. He could maintain and tune guns, and even re-rifle barrels.

Although re-rifling the barrel too many times would reduce accuracy, who the hell cared about that?

A few guns, a dozen guns, even submachine guns firing together, pointed at their faces, there's no way they could miss!

But what a gunsmith brings is a permanent solution to the threat of ballistics.

And then there are mechanics and auto repairmen. They can help a gang modify vehicles, modify machinery, make traps, bombs, and even do other things.

Especially for some sensitive items. Although there are some sold outside, it's hard to say whether the people selling them are fishing.

And you also don't know if they'll sell your information for more money. Don't imagine these underworld people to be too wonderful.

There are indeed Robin Hood-like figures here, but more often than not, people will abandon integrity for a little bit of profit.

They can sell you dangerous goods for money, and naturally, they can also sell you as a commodity to others for money.

The gunsmith they were meeting was a refugee from the Empire. After coming here, he couldn't find a suitable job and now made a living by helping people with metalwork.

Metalwork is actually a skilled job, it's just that the hammering and banging makes people feel like it doesn't require any skill, but if you really let them try, they can't do anything well.

Many people knew that Lance was looking for a gunsmith, at least someone who knew the principles of firearms and could independently modify them.

As for maintenance, that's actually not too important. For a dynamic social organization like theirs, the shelf life of a gun only lasts from the time it's received to the time it's used in combat, unless someone does follow-up processing.

Otherwise, they could only buy a bearded guy at a discount, or put it in a bag and throw it into the bottom of Angel Lake.

Lance didn't have any connections in the local black market for guns, unlike some big gangs. After using the guns, they'd be sold in the black market of another city in less than a day.

He didn't know these kinds of people, nor did he have this kind of channel. Even if he sold everything to the bearded guy at a discount, it would still be a loss.

The gunsmith didn't seem to have any problems with his skill level, at least Lance couldn't see any problems. He easily disassembled the McGre 1212 semi-automatic pistol that Lance gave him.

Every part was placed on the table, and he pointed out that several of the parts were severely worn and obviously not from the same gun.

It was possible that it was disassembled and reassembled, or that it was replaced after being damaged, giving an overall barely passing grade.

Looking at his skilled movements, Lance was full of expectations for him. Of course, whether he was good or not would have to wait for the bearded guy to inspect him.

When he returned home, many people had already come back. They were either sitting or standing in the living room. They wouldn't rest until Lance came back. Only when they saw Lance come back did they seem to have a weight lifted from their hearts.

Two girls took Lance's coat and hat, and someone handed him a cup of hot cocoa. He walked over and sat down on the sofa.

The others gathered around. "How much money do we have in our account now?" Lance asked Elvin.

Elvin reported a number. "Close to fifty thousand."

"That's so little." Before the others had even, or already revealed, expressions of "That's so much money," Lance gave them a completely different statement.

He looked at these people. "I never deny the existence of the Federal Dream, but I don't like it because it's not as wonderful as people advertise."

"All Federal Dreams are left to those who are prepared, such as the salesman who sold fishhooks and became the chairman of a listed company, or the wealthy gentleman who sold onions and became the founder of the largest chain restaurant in the eastern region."

"For example, the insurance salesman who became a major shareholder in the insurance company by selling insurance, or those people we always know well."

"No one ever introduces us to their background, no one tells us how they got loans from the bank, how they met those senators and presidents."

"They only tell us that they used to work at the lowest levels of society, and then became big shots, and tell us that this is the Federal Dream!"

Morris suddenly interjected, "I've heard that story about the insurance salesman. The insurance company he worked for was his dad's. He was just interning in the family business."

Lance pointed at him, "Don't tell outsiders that, they won't believe it!"

The young people couldn't help but laugh, feeling both absurd and incredible.

Morris and Ennio were on good terms. Ennio's father had been dreaming of achieving his Federal Dream through being a salesman.

If anyone was the most direct victim of the Federal Dream, then Ennio's father was one of them, but even now, he still seems to be doing that job.

It's just that compared to his previous fanaticism, he seemed to have become more rational after being beaten up by Will.

Lance took a sip of the hot cocoa. It was very fragrant, no less than a donut. "I don't deny that some people have succeeded, but that's only a very small minority."

"If we want to gain the respect of others, we must have something."

"Power, status, wealth, and our weapons."

"You guys think that forty thousand dollars is a lot of money, but I think it's very little, because it's our income for the past six months. So many of us, plus the business we're running, it's only this much!"

"But it doesn't matter, soon it will increase many times over!"

He looked at Elvin. "Keep five thousand dollars for emergencies, and then go to the bank and get two more checkbooks back. We'll need them soon."

"And cash too, make sure to budget it well. The second batch of alcohol is coming soon, don't not be able to come up with that much cash when the time comes."

Luigi didn't care about cash or checks. He wanted cash more than checks. Aldera's people didn't care if the money was dirty or not, as long as it was real.

After that, Lance talked for a while about how to identify "who is an agent," because the bar was about to open soon, and he had also heard that the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms was about to start work, and he had to let everyone master this.

"...It's not that easy for these agents to catch us. The most important thing is not to let them seize solid evidence, so refusing them entry into our bar is especially important."

Lance lit a cigarette, crossed his legs, and everyone was listening to him. "Morris, you're the one among us who's seen the most kinds of people. How do you think you can tell if a customer who's knocking on the door but has never come before is a plainclothes agent?"

Morris scratched his head. He really wasn't sure, and hesitated to say, "He should be very nervous?"

The others also looked at Lance, waiting for the answer, but Lance shook his head. "Look, if you're the doorman, you and your bar are done for."

Morris laughed sheepishly. "I'm not good at this, but why?"

Lance explained, "We sell alcohol to drunkards. In other words, we're engaged in criminal activity, we're a criminal organization."

"Do you think a drunkard, even if he knows what he's doing and what we're doing, can easily face us, these criminal organization members he's never met before?"

When Lance said this, everyone suddenly had a very clear feeling!

Yes, they couldn't possibly act very relaxed, being nervous was normal.

Even they themselves, before joining the Lance family, would become a little nervous when they encountered those who looked like they weren't easy to mess with, and it was difficult to face them calmly.

And those ordinary drunkards, they're just drunkards. They would still be afraid of criminal organizations. It would be strange if they weren't nervous the first time they went to an unfamiliar bar!

Seeing that they had reacted, Lance nodded and said, "Looks like you all understand. This is what I want to teach you."

"On the contrary, it's those fresh faces who are here for the first time. Not only do they seem relaxed, but they also try to act like they're very familiar and outgoing. That means they're definitely suspicious!"

"When you encounter this kind of situation, pay attention, remember what they look like, and then refuse them."

"We can earn one less drink's worth of money, but we absolutely refuse to ruin our bar and our liquor just to earn a few extra coins!"

Derek raised his hand in the corner, "If we think they're acting strange, can't we just take action against them?"

Lance shook his head. "No, they're law enforcement. Don't take action against them unless we're prepared."

"If they keep harassing us, then remember what they look like, and we'll find a way to deal with them."

He also talked about some of the problems that arise after opening a bar, such as dealing with drunks, or customers fighting in the bar, and some other things.

The popularity of the Workers' Club these past few days has mistakenly led them to believe that it's a super-sized bar, but that's not the case.

The clientele in a bar is much more complex than in the Workers' Club. What is the Workers' Club, really?

Everyone there is a dockworker. You know me, I know you. Even if there really is a conflict, at most it'll be a brief brawl, and then everyone goes back to what they were doing.

But in a bar, someone might pull out a knife, or even a gun. That's where the biggest risks lie.

If someone dies in a bar, it becomes very difficult to handle. Lance doesn't want that.

Over the course of the evening, Lance taught them a lot of useful little things, including how to handle some emergencies. As the number of bars and businesses increases, he can't personally oversee every location.

Ultimately, these people will be responsible. And when the family's business becomes even bigger in the future, they won't be able to manage so many places alone. They'll have to pass on this experience, just like a real family!

The next morning, Lance took some time to visit Johnny's bakery. He was even thinner than when Lance had seen him in December.

His arm had healed, and he wasn't using a wheelchair anymore. He had already started working.

When he saw Lance push the door open and come in, his eyes flickered a bit, and then he became somewhat… silent.

Hiram stood by the door and flipped the 'Open' sign to 'Closed'. There were also two people standing outside the door. Anyone who saw this setup wouldn't dare to barge in.

"Lance… Could you possibly…"

Before he could finish speaking, Lance shook his head. "No."

"You know, a friendly relationship is a friendly relationship, and debt is debt. We have to keep that clear."

"If you want to reminisce with an old friend, then give me the money, and I'll invite you to sit for a while at the barbecue restaurant next door."

"But if you think I can waive or reduce your payment, I'm sorry, that's not possible."

"Don't make things difficult for me, Johnny. I don't want to resort to violence, but don't force me to."

In the end, Johnny could only return to the small room, close the door, and take out an aluminum box from who knows where, filled with banknotes.

He gave most of it to Lance, who counted it and handed it to Hiram.

"Looks like you don't have any thoughts of eating anything. See you next month, Johnny!" Lance lightly touched his hat, indicating that the formality had been completed.

Hiram opened the door, and the two of them quickly left, leaving Johnny alone.

He looked at the small aluminum box in his hand, not knowing what to say. He had less than six hundred dollars left.

He definitely couldn't earn four hundred dollars in a month. He wouldn't be able to repay the money next month.

This made him feel uneasy, but… he had no other choice!

The fat daughter and her boyfriend, hiding behind the door, silently watched everything that happened. They wanted to do something, but they couldn't do anything.

Johnny returned to his room, hid the iron box, and sat on the bed in a daze.

After a while, the sound of arguing came from his original bedroom, the one belonging to his daughter and her boyfriend. Johnny vaguely knew what they were arguing about.

Because of the debt.

Once Johnny couldn't repay this debt, he would have to sell his house. But selling the house would at most get him two thousand dollars, and he still owed Lance four thousand dollars.

In other words, even if he sold the house, there would still be a gap of seventeen or eighteen hundred dollars. At that time, their shopfront might also be affected.

If they lost even the shopfront, he, his family, would truly be finished.

After thirty years of hard work, everything was lost due to some small accidents.

His daughter's boyfriend was planning to leave. During the two months when Johnny's arm was injured, he had already learned all the techniques and processes. He was now confident that even if he didn't do as well as Johnny, it wouldn't be much worse.

This was also what Johnny didn't want to see the most, and the reason why he was unwilling to teach apprentices!

The greater the price these people paid, the sooner they would leave once they learned the skill.

It was like a vicious cycle.

Johnny couldn't let them pay nothing, or pay very little, to learn his craft.

And as long as the other party's payment was large, the less likely they were to be of one mind with Johnny.

Perhaps that's why many artisans would have their apprentices marry their daughters; only in that way would they be a community of shared interests.

The snow outside the door couldn't cover up the noise of the argument. Soon the argument turned into cursing, and after a while, the fat daughter's boyfriend slammed the door and left with his things.

Watching all this happen, Johnny sat there, as if he had lost his soul.

It had been snowing for a while, and the gathering outside St. Naya Cathedral on Saturdays had been temporarily put on hold. Lance had Ervin look for a new location suitable for the gathering. This kind of gathering had a very special meaning and effect and should not be suspended due to the weather.

And he, on the other hand, brought some gifts to see Patricia.

The girl was originally angry that Lance hadn't come to see her for a while, but after hearing William say that Lance also had his difficulties, she forgave him.

Now the whole family knew who Lance was, and they also knew about his business, but everyone's thoughts were different.

William felt that this was an opportunity. He had already spoken with the Federalists during the state party convention. He intended to run for municipal councilor of the Imperial District, hoping to gain the support of the Federalists.

The Federalists were very interested in his ideas, saying that as long as he didn't ask the Federalists for money, the Federalists were willing to send people to support him.

He now really needed to talk to Lance.

Emily (Patricia's mother) also wanted to meet Lance. After all, she had only seen this kind of "gang boss" in the news, and she didn't think Lance was that scary.

On the contrary, he was more humble, more polite, and funnier than ordinary people!

As for Patricia, her mind was a bit confused…