"Now, it's time to settle this account!" Mark's eyes turned cold as he looked at the three people who were gradually losing their breath.
That's right, these guys just now came from the notorious criminal organization Black Face. He had heard about it in the news.
Pulling off the black mask of one of them, although the flesh and blood were blurred, the poisonous snake tattoo on his face was still clearly visible, so this was definitely correct.
In this city where crime is rampant, this group of people may not be the most threatening, but they are definitely the most annoying.
Murder, robbery, fraud... there is nothing they can't do, but often the targets they attack are ordinary people who have a hard life.
There is no need for him to be merciful when dealing with these rats in the city, just like Rorschach in "Watchmen". He will never put his hope in anyone again. He will be the merciless executioner himself, using his own eyes to examine all this.
There is a very good saying: Neither your kindness nor your malice is pure enough, so you suffer.
Mark went to the warehouse and took out a hemp rope. He quickly tied several bodies together and kicked open the glass door of the convenience store.
In a city filled with garbage and smog, Mark, wearing a black windbreaker, leather boots, and with his hat brim pulled down, walked straight to the door of the police station.
Under his cold leather gloves, Mark was holding the hemp rope tightly and dragging the bodies of the three bastards.
When passers-by saw this scene, some stopped to watch, but most just quickened their pace and walked away silently...
"Sheriff Andrew, please come outside and take a look!" Inside the Gotham City Police Department, a young police officer rushed into Andrew's office in a hurry.
In this office filled with magazines and liquor instead of any case files, Andrew put down his glass and said unhappily: "Officer Henri, you are yelling and shouting, you don't look like a qualified police officer.
"You...you go and check outside! Something big has happened!" Henri's voice was trembling, and Andrew's heart tightened as well.
When Andrew walked out of the office, the entire police station was in chaos and everyone ran out of the police station.
Andrew felt more and more uneasy. When he walked out, the scene in front of him instantly made him break out in a cold sweat!
Three cold bodies were left outside alone, and on a parking sign next to them was a string of shocking bloody words!
"Never compromise! Declare war on the garbage black-faced people!"
The next day, Gotham City, which was already in chaos, became even more in turmoil after Mark's behavior.
Ordinary citizens who had long been suppressed to the point of being unable to breathe, seemed to be encouraged and started a carnival in the streets!
The deaths of the three bastards seemed to tear apart people's long-standing numbness, and they wantonly insulted the pests in the city and the incompetent police.
Mark sold his convenience store at a low price, looked at the hustle and bustle on the street, turned around with a smile, and walked into the dark alley behind him.
"Damn it! Which bastard did this? I will make him pay the price!"
Inside the Black Jack Club at 89 Etlan Street, the Black Mask Organization's junior leader, Bernard, tore up the newspaper in his hands, his whole body shaking with anger.
This man with a fleshy face and a brown scar hanging on his left cheek has always been unable to tolerate even a single unnecessary word from his subordinates, let alone such a naked provocation.
The shivering woman on the sofa next to him was sobbing, covering her swollen cheeks.
The men standing in front lowered their heads and dared not speak, for fear of angering this ruthless demon king.
"It's so annoying! Shut up!" The weak sobs made Barnard even more furious, and he shot the woman who was hugging him just now with a single shot.
The sound of gunfire was deafening in the room. The men were so nervous when they saw this scene that they didn't even dare to breathe too loudly.
"Brother, don't get angry and hurt yourself. What can those rubbish and useless policemen do to us?" A handsome man in a gray suit walked into the room.
Unaffected by the depressing atmosphere, he sat beside the woman's body, whose eyes were still open, and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Bernard calmed down a little, and after a moment he slowly said: "Hopkins, please find out who this guy is. I will personally send him to hell!"
"Don't worry, brother, Perth in the bureau will help us get it done." Hopkin took a sip of wine, still looking indifferent.
As night falls, on the brightly lit Atlan Street, scantily clad women and men in suits are driving luxury cars in and out of the Black Jack Club.
However, compared with this scene of drunkenness and debauchery, just across the street is a large slum where vagrants sleep on the roadside and in the alleys, and wet rats walk around them unscrupulously.
Bernard and a group of upper-class dignitaries sat at the card table, and the smell of cigars and spirits fermented in this already closed space.
The young girl standing next to Bernard dealing cards, her makeup smudged by tears, was haggard and half-dressed, dealing cards with hands that had traces of cigarette burns on them.
Bernard seemed to have forgotten what happened during the day. His lustful eyes wandered over the girl's body, and his hands would pinch her from time to time.
The girl gritted her teeth, tears of grievance welling up in her eyes, but she did not dare to resist. She knew what would happen if she angered this man.
And in this magnificent club, there are probably countless girls like her.
Most of them were forced to do so under threats, or were simply kidnapped from other places as commodities.
No freedom, no dignity, just an object, a toy that can be undressed at any time and anywhere.
"Bang!" Just when Bernard and others were having fun, there was a loud noise from the door.
Mark put his hands in his pockets and kicked the door open. As for the two bodyguards guarding the door, they were no longer alive.
"I'm sorry to disturb your fun. I come here rashly to end your card game and...your lives." Mark's hoarse voice under the mask was cold and playful.
Bernard pushed the girl standing next to him away and stared at Mark with his eyes wide open: "Are you the guy who declared war on us?"
"Declare war? Perhaps you have misunderstood it. Perhaps it would be better to use another word to describe it. For example, how about destruction?" Mark laughed out loud when he heard this, and the black ink on his mask became hideous.
"Go to hell!" Bernard couldn't bear it any longer, pulled out the pistol from his waist, pointed the gun at Mark and pulled the trigger.
After the gunshot, a body fell to the ground, but it was not Mark, but one of his men who hurried in from outside the door.
"This...how is this possible!?" Bernard saw through the smoke from the muzzle that Mark dodged the bullet almost instantly, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
Before he could react, a ghostly voice sounded in his ears: "Your bullets are really too slow."