He put on his police cap and said, "Since the hero of the Clinton District has woken up, I'll be taking my leave. On behalf of the entire NYPD, I want to express our gratitude to you, or rather, to all of you."
"Lastly, Mr. Rigordo, we've looked into your case from back then, and that guy indeed has connections with the 'Black Street Gestapo' that's now under investigation again."
"We... still can't confirm that your wife's death is related to him, but your conviction was indeed too harsh, and the NYPD will go through the procedures to issue you compensation."
Rigordo snorted from his nose, showing his indifference towards the police—even if it was the Chief himself.
However, his increasingly moist eyes indicated that he was anything but calm inside.
"Well, I'll be off then. This case that has come up will keep us busy for quite a while."
"Take care, Chief Stacy—thank you very much for everything you have done for Hell's Kitchen."
"The people you should be thanking are yourselves."
George took a deep look at Lille—his perception of the young man had undergone some changes.
Once the Chief had left, Lille suddenly asked, "So, Mr. Rigordo, what happened back then?"
Rigordo closed his eyes and shook his head lightly, "Some trifling old matters. I used to have a hot temper, fighting gang wars for others."
"Then one day, when I was not at home, a guy rushed into the apartment and killed... her."
The tenants were unwilling to testify and moved away one after another. I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands—because of that, I went to prison, and Ellicon he..."
The rest of the story didn't need to be told by Rigordo for everyone to guess.
Rigordo finished speaking and turned over, "I'm going to sleep now, don't disturb me."
The ward instantly fell silent, but it was closer to tranquility than quietude.
"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
Lille lay in the hospital bed, feeling that the outcome was worth the effort—if he hadn't intervened, perhaps things would be very different now.
The blindfolded NYPD would let Hell's Kitchen run amok, its residents harboring hatred toward both the police and the gangs, yet not daring to resist under the threat of law and violence.
Kingpin's empire would grow by the day, with Hell's Kitchen as his first stepping stone, trampled under the lowest layer of the Kingpin gang empire, never to turn over a new leaf.
What he was most grateful for was that Mr. Rigordo had survived.
Mr. Rigordo once used that gun to fight the gangs, avenging his wife; now his son was supposed to use that gun to work for the gangs, to kill his own father.
Perhaps this was a symbolic turning point—the gang member died, while Mr. Rigordo, despite all that had happened, was the one who lived, still willing to help others.
Even the goddess of luck seemed to be on their side—although Lille believed he should have controlled everything, he admitted that all things required a bit of luck.
Lille felt regret for Mr. Rigordo, but he would not feel remorse, nor did he feel any guilt over the boy's death.
After a while, Matt and Skye went back to work, and Mr. Rigordo slept quietly in the room.
Only Maya remained seated beside Lille—she had been silent because what she wanted to say didn't match the mood.
"Mom, I know what you want to say, but don't you think it's all worth it?"
Maya smiled affectionately and stroked the hair on Lille's forehead, "Son, that's why I didn't say anything, you're all grown up."
Lille took off his oxygen mask and sat up, looking at the wrinkles on his mother's face, "Mom, trust me, we'll be able to live in a home like a sky garden someday—everyone will have a share."
"You should quit that job in Chinatown. I've arranged a new job for you."
Maya smiled and playfully scraped Lille's nose, "A sky garden, huh? I used to dream of it as a child. Before I came to America, I thought everyone here lived in houses like that."
"I'll take your word for it—I'll quit tomorrow."
"Then you can continue to dream, it will come true one day." Lille shrugged, "Mom, can you go check on John's situation for me?"
"Of course, you rest well."
The room soon emptied, and Lille threw off the covers, unplugging all the equipment from his body.
He had sent Maya away for a reason—there was a new discovery in the surveillance.
The messenger of Kingpin had arrived.
...
Lille purposefully found an empty ward to wait in.
The man responsible for speaking with Lille was one in a suit, a quintessential Wall Street elite template; to Lille, somewhat stereotypical.
It was clear this was just a mouthpiece, not even connected to United Construction Company.
The suited man got straight to the point, "My boss invites you to achieve great things with us, there's no need for us to fight each other."
"Alright," Lille nodded, "the area south of West 34th Street, north of West 57th Street, and the eastern side of Eighth Avenue, he's already consolidated it, I don't care."
But for the land within this range, I can buy it back at a price 10% higher than the cost to help him recoup his losses."
"That's impossible, you don't understand the situation, this time you just got lucky."
"No, it's you who don't understand the situation," Lille shook his head, "it's impossible for him to start construction here now."
The person in charge of the negotiation regretfully shook his head: "It seems there's no point in talking anymore—however, I believe you will change your mind soon."
Having said that, the man in the suit turned and walked away.
Lille watched his retreating figure intently, "It's he who will change his mind soon—and you, you will soon undergo the only change of your life."
The man in the suit didn't pay any attention to Lille and continued on his way back to his car, signaling for his driver to start the engine.
Far away at United Construction Company, journalists had gathered round and round—it was a real demonstration that the company didn't provide sufficient protection for workers' rights after all.
Not to mention that the car accident was also related to NYPD's latest statement.
Kingpin felt irritable but showed no sign of it on his face as he walked to his luxury stretch car from the back door.
"Is that what he said? Bold."
Kingpin, having heard the news, spoke in a cold tone—since this kid thought luck would always be on his side...
The car drove into Hell's Kitchen, passing one intersection after another. Lille planned to live and let live with him; that was impossible.
All he needed to do was to keep finding those local gangs and incite them to riot; there would always be something to gain.
But...
The car had just left the intersection when a dump truck laden with mud charged straight towards the stretch car!
Beep beep beep—
Hisss—
The piercing horn sound was almost shattering, and the brakes left a long, black trail on the ground!
But the car never came to a stop!
Bang!
The dump truck did not crush the car into a photo like before, but it did indeed crash into the front half of the stretch car.
Just that one impact caused the car to spin around almost a full half-circle!
"Damn it! How do you drive!" Kingpin raised his head, only to see his driver trapped in the twisted wreckage of the driving seat, the smell of motor oil mixed with blood was nauseating.
The traffic light that had just turned green was now red!
Looking at the car that hit him—it was still United Construction Company!
Kingpin had no interest in his driver who was about to die; instead, he stared straight at the distant red light—
He had been warned! Just like he warned those property owners with a bullet hole, with a toothpick, he'd been warned with the same method!
No evidence, no hard proof, only the unequivocal methods, the incomprehensible process, and more importantly...
The other party knew who he was!
Amidst the noisy intersection, Kingpin suddenly felt hesitant.
Lighting a cigar, he took out his phone and dialed his subordinate: "Wesley, the guy from the negotiation just now—take care of him, we need to adjust our strategy."
Yes, he was going to back down—at least until he could figure out what was so strange about Lille's territory, he couldn't act recklessly.
Given the company's currently high-leverage situation and the mess left by the death of Kingpin that urgently needed resolving, continuing to fight was too risky; he could only choose to deal with the territories he had swallowed first.
As for the guy from the negotiation just now—no one could know that he was backing down.
To the outside world—this was just a strategic business adjustment.
...
In the hospital, moonlight shone through the glass onto Lille's body.
"Technology is these people's Achilles' heel,"
New messages were already appearing before his eyes.
[Unstable Energy is about to erupt]
[Please be prepared.]