People are scared in America, my uncle is Dante

Chapter 180 Washington

Washington, D.C., as the political heart of the United States, has always been a crossroads of various important hubs.

But beneath this power that determines the course of the entire nation and the world, there are often more unspeakable secrets and conspiracies.

Suren walked out of the train station hall with the crowded people.

Virginia and Washington, D.C. are adjacent states, and a large number of commuters travel between the two places every day.

For working people who can't stand rush hour traffic jams and high rents, taking the train is undoubtedly the most convenient and cost-effective way.

Standing in the square outside the station, Suren looked around.

Unlike Los Santos, a modern metropolis full of high-tech features and skyscrapers, Washington, D.C. has a very simple and understated architectural style, with most buildings being low-rise and few skyscrapers.

What puzzled him even more was that construction was underway everywhere on the streets.

"Rumble—"

A cloud of dust hung in the air, and even though water was being sprayed everywhere on the streets, it was difficult to get rid of.

Roadblocks and construction barriers blocked almost all the intersections.

It didn't feel like being in the capital of a country, but rather like being in a huge construction site undergoing renovation.

Suren patted the dust off his clothes.

If Ada's speculation is correct, with the Armitage family's brain-transplant technology, the high-ranking government officials here...

How many of the military personnel and those politicians who pontificate about national affairs actually have their own brains?

Just how deep are the waters in this city that serves as the center of national power?

However, these matters are too far-reaching to be easily resolved by him alone.

Furthermore, given the unique nature of this country, even if Washington falls, other cities might be even happier, and might simply follow orders without taking orders, each pursuing their own interests.

Besides searching for clues about the Armitage family, he had another important reason for coming to Washington this time.

Thinking of this, Suren took out the business card from his pocket, which the witch Bayonetta had given him after leaving the mental hospital.

Rodin, the fallen angel weapons craftsman, runs the Gates of Hell bar right here.

He came here partly to consult with the other party about magic tools.

On the other hand, Rodin, as a local strongman who walks on the edge of heaven and hell, and Washington being the enemy's stronghold, possesses intelligence that should not be underestimated.

Perhaps we can glean some clues about the Armitage family from him, and then we can make further plans.

He put away his business card and was about to hail a taxi.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass came from the right.

Suren turned her head and saw a figure with long hair, wrapped in a black coat, jump out of a window of a three-story building next to her and land on the roof of a car on the street.

Upon landing, the man in black seemed impervious to pain, immediately springing off the roof of the car and fleeing towards the other end of the street.

Immediately afterwards, there was another "thud," and a young man holding a gun jumped down from the building.

Judging from his skills, he should be an undercover police officer or a fellow detective.

However, this guy was clearly not that durable.

He crashed onto the same car roof, rolled down the sloping crater to the ground, and after a few seconds he gritted his teeth, got up, and limped after them, gun in hand.

"So messy?"

Suren raised an eyebrow, watching the two figures disappear.

He could sense a demonic aura emanating from the man in black, yet within that aura lay human consciousness.

This guy felt more complex and sophisticated than the Miles who only knew how to kill.

However, Suren didn't join in the fun. He put away his business card and hailed a taxi.

The taxi drove around the city for half an hour before finally stopping somewhere in Washington.

The driver took the money without saying a word and sped away.

This isn't the edge of Washington, but it's clearly a slum.

The streets were piled high with foul-smelling garbage bags, and the walls were covered in graffiti.

Several homeless men, wrapped in blankets, huddled in a corner, staring intently at Suren.

Suren frowned.

"Why do all these people like to live in slums?"

He followed the directions on the business card, making several turns, until he finally found the bar called "Gates of Hell" at the end of a dark dead end.

-

If it weren't for the flashing neon sign hanging above its entrance, you wouldn't be able to tell from its appearance that it's a business establishment.

Stepping inside, the bar's interior décor, unlike the outside environment, possesses a unique aesthetic.

Skulls and cold weapons hung on the walls, and in the flickering lights, all sorts of guests swayed to the music in the dance floor.

Suren weaved through the crowd and headed straight for the bar.

Behind the bar stood a burly, bald black man.

He was wearing a leather trench coat with the collar turned up high, obscuring half of his face.

Even in the dimly lit bar, he was still wearing sunglasses.

The burly man was holding a white cloth and slowly wiping a wine glass.

"What would you like, Spartan brat?"

Rodin didn't even look up: "A glass of tequila? Or would you like a strawberry sundae? But I don't have pizza here."

Suren didn't say anything, but took out the black business card and pushed it over.

Rodin glanced at the business card on the table, his movements pausing slightly.

"Oh? So you're a customer introduced by that little witch."

He put down his glass, draping a muscular arm over the bar: "So, tell me, did you call me here to gather intelligence? Or to buy weapons?"

"As long as you have the money, or can offer a soul of sufficient value, the gates of hell will always be open to you."

Before the words were even finished, the noisy music and laughter around them instantly fell silent, as if they had been shut out by an invisible glass.

Suren glanced around instinctively.

People on the dance floor were still swaying and dancing, while guests in several booths were raising their glasses, drinking and laughing loudly.

But he couldn't hear a single sound, as if a separate space had been forcibly created around the bar.

"Is it a domain-specific method?"

Suren was slightly surprised, gaining a deeper understanding of the weapon craftsman's abilities.

While his Silent Hill can forcibly drag people into it, it cannot so quietly carve out an independent space.

Two things.

Suren looked at Rodan and said directly, "First, I want to know the address of the Armitage family. Second, I want some advice on magical artifacts."

Let Nicole handle the crafting of magical tools; at least she'll be excited to give him a free service when she sees top-quality materials.

Rodin lowered his head slightly, his sunglasses slipped down, and he glanced at Suren: "Young man, you want quite a lot."

He picked up the glass he had just wiped clean, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and drank it all in one gulp.

"Come with me, this isn't the place to discuss big business."

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