Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 93: The long time is to accumulate strength, not the buff failure
There is no doubt that Cara was mocking Sofia for telling Falcone every detail of the conversation in the basement. What Sofia knew, it can be assumed that Falcone must know.

And this is indeed the case.

"Aunt Kara, I was sent here with respect."

Sophia looked at her aunt, who turned away to continue shooting at the target, and said to her, "We will attack Maroni on St. Patrick's Day morning. Dad thinks Maroni may be the Holiday Killer himself, or at least know who the Holiday Killer is - will you stand up to us?"

Kara didn't answer directly. Instead, she replied calmly while firing, "Carmine is now in control of the bank, and the money is flowing again. Things are back on track."

Sophia then leaned over and kissed the back of her hand with respect.

"thank you"

The time came a few days later.

St. Patrick's Day, 5:03 AM, Sal Maroney's hideout.

Dense and chaotic gunfire rang out outside the door. Bullets passed through the glass of the door and pierced the bodies of the family members who were waiting in the hall and were dedicated to protecting Maroni.

Some people still had the strength to fight back, but the killer outside the door was very cautious. After firing a magazine, even if no one inside fought back, he still shot through the door, covering the large and small chandeliers above the hall with a rain of bullets.

As the lamps fell to the ground and shattered one by one, the room was immediately completely covered by the dark night outside the window. At this time, the people inside had no power to fight back and could only be killed bit by bit by the gun-wielding killer with bullets, or watch themselves bleed, become weak, and then fall into darkness completely.

The door was opened gently, and the killer's footsteps were almost silent. He quietly entered the darkness. Soon, all the groans in the room disappeared, and the 22 gunshots also stopped.

St. Patrick's Day, 5:00 AM, Sal Maroney's hideout.

The golden hand of the clock pointed to thirteen minutes. Sophia withdrew her hand, confirmed the time, and began to give orders.

"parking."

The black limousine stopped at the door, but Sophia's face was gloomy. She looked at the hiding place with the door open in fear and suspicion. The dark interior, the strong smell of blood, the broken glass windows, and the door full of bullet holes, all of these made her feel a bad premonition.

"Someone got there first, and that changes things."

She drew her pistol and flashlight, opened the car door, stepped into the rain, and went into the hiding place.

The gorgeous chandelier was smashed to pieces, and corpses and blood were scattered all over the hall floor, the stairs, and the second floor. The red and black colors intertwined and splashed all over the villa, creating an atmosphere of death and fear.

The most eye-catching things were the .22 pistol with the handle covered and the serial number worn off, the broken baby pacifier, and the green Irish magic elf dwarf holding a magic wand.

The square base was emblazoned with the shamrock, the symbol of St. Patrick's Day (this ubiquitous grass in Ireland is also the national flower), and the words "Erin go bragh" (Long live Ireland) were inscribed. She walked out the door. The original attack plan was no longer relevant. The fact that the holiday killer had slaughtered people in Maroni's hideout was enough to clear Maroni of suspicion. This wasn't a minor incident like the previous car bombing, where only four people died. This was a real attack, a massacre of the core members of an entire hideout.

A man might be willing to sacrifice a piece or two of his flesh, or even an arm, in order to resort to a self-torture tactic, but a courageous gangster boss would never give up his face, dignity, and core family members in order to resort to a self-torture tactic - not to mention that this matter would do no good to the Maroni family.

Maroni was just a little reckless, but he wasn't stupid.

Sophia got back into the car and looked up at the upper floor of the apartment where she was hiding. In the broken windows, there was a faint light of fire and smoke floating out. The person leaning over and looking out in the darkness was the terrified and pale Maroni.

"Festival, festival killer."

The underworld giant, whose voice was trembling, took a deep breath of smoke, and suppressed the fear in his heart with the help of the feeling of nicotine entering his lungs. In just a few minutes, all the elite bodyguards and core members of the hideout were wiped out. This was the first time in the decades since he took over the Maroni family that he felt the feeling of death approaching step by step.

He was unable to resist and had no way to fight back. The man's shooting skills were terrifying and his thinking ability was astonishing. He killed his way through the entire building. If he had not specially built a secret hiding room in the building where he was hiding, he would have been killed today.

He watched the black limousine disappear into the rain along with the other cars, and he could clearly realize that they were members of the Falcone family. They came to visit him at this time, and naturally they didn't want to talk to him about life and ideals.

But he had no time to think about this matter. The horrible festival butcher had occupied his entire mind. Not to mention anger, the fact that he was able to keep thinking now was enough to show that Maroni himself was worthy of the title of the second largest gang leader in Gotham City.

At this moment, a figure wearing a yellow raincoat and riding a small motorcycle with an insulated box on the back seat appeared on the street and stopped in front of the door of the hiding place.

He casually took out a pizza takeaway from the bag, turned around and stood in a daze at the door of the building that was obviously in big trouble.

"Uh, is there anyone else who can sign for this takeout?"

Just as he said this, the system prompt popped up.

Private takeout orders in Gotham City

Task Description: Your supervisor has already had a certain understanding of you, so he gave you a job with paid leave. However, as the saying goes, increase income and reduce expenditure, wouldn’t it be better to take advantage of this time to get another job?
Note: A gangster tasted your cooking once in the restaurant kitchen and praised you highly. If it weren't for some unexpected events, you might have been recommended to Maroni - but in any case, he still wanted to eat your pizza again.

Status: 21 completed (task completed)
Rewards: For every pizza sold, you earn $50 in Asset Points; for every ten pizzas sold, you earn Level 1 Motorcycle Driving Mastery. There is no upper limit.

Ma Zhaodi looked at the bullet holes all over the door and smelled the bloody smell coming out from inside, and his scalp tingled. He only made a rough assessment and felt that there were at least a dozen people in the building. It was obvious that the gangster who often signed for his pizza was dead.

He looked up at the window upstairs again. Maroni was staring at him with wide eyes, and it was obvious that he recognized him.

Maybe, he won't hire me as his employee anymore.

(End of this chapter)