America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 109 Versailles

"Who are those black guys?"

Zhang Ailun then inquired about the background of the gang of black men from earlier, noting, "They seemed pretty arrogant."

"If I were you, I would never even think of provoking those guys! They're not like ordinary homeless people; arrogance requires capital, and they happen to have it!"

They're high-level, and they all have guns in their equipment inventory. There's a reason they've been able to establish themselves in Los Angeles.

A homeless person has nothing, and even a regular police officer can make things difficult for them. Gangs have deep-rooted influence, are rich and powerful, and are basically colluding with officials. They pay money to ensure safety, and you never know which city councilor's backer might be a big gang.

Old Carl said, "The Moschino gang is a black gang that was founded in the 90s in the Seventh Street area. Although it can't compare to the largest gangs like the Cripples and the Bloods, it has developed into a respectable force. An old friend of mine joined the gang and eventually became the head of the neighborhood, but he passed away from lung cancer a few years ago."

"Obviously, I wanted to ask my old friend's son to come and help me get revenge, but their fees are much higher than the average person's. They charged me $2000 just to teach a few homeless people a lesson!"

Old Karl felt frustrated and sighed, "Looks like I'll have to find some unreliable people to help me."

You get what you pay for. Hiring gang members to stand up for you is expensive, but they're really capable when things get tough. Sending a few thugs to take the blame doesn't cost much, and the employer doesn't have to worry about retaliation.

When you hire someone to do something on a black market app, they may charge low fees, but they usually disappear after one job, as if they're afraid of getting into trouble. If those people want to retaliate, they'll definitely target you first.

There's no need to worry about the gangs. After those people were taught a lesson, they wouldn't dare to provoke or retaliate again. Otherwise, it would be a slap in the face to the gangs. Their territory is right next door. They might not like you one night and drive over in a black car with an AK and start shooting at you!

Unless you also find other gangs to stand up for you.

Aside from Crippled Blood, Zhang Ailun hadn't really heard of any other famous black gangs. He figured this was probably a small to medium-sized gang that was getting worse and worse in the current environment. Maybe one day when the situation became turbulent and the protectors changed, it would be wiped out by the FBI's anti-gang crackdown.

"What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you not to come here to sell jars lately?" Old Karl asked curiously.

"I was just passing by, but I saw that you seemed to be having some trouble, so I thought I'd see if I could help you," Zhang Ailun said.

"Haha, you've only just gotten your foothold on the streets. How many people do you have under your command? The streets are too treacherous. You young people shouldn't be so competitive! How many streets have you expanded to now, Little Yellow Duck?" Old Karl teased, taking out an aluminum vodka from his pocket, unscrewing the cap, and taking a small sip.

"Seven and a half streets?" Zhang Ailun calculated. "It used to be seven and a half streets, but yesterday we had a friendly negotiation with a street gang, and they are willing to give up their territory to join us. In addition to the Irishman's two streets, there are also the automatic recycling machines on various streets."

Versailles sighed in distress, "Alas, it's beyond calculation."

"Pfft!!" Old Karl spat out a mouthful of wine.

She looked at him in shock. "Are you kidding me? You wiped out all those sewer rats? When did Jon take over the automatic recycling machine? I remember very clearly that those Europeans were not to be trifled with."

"I don't feel anything."

Zhang Ailun frankly stated, "They were quite easy to talk to, and we didn't really fight back. Everyone was very friendly."

Old Karl fell into deep thought.

After a long pause, he tentatively asked, "What method did you use to deal with those Europeans? Did you defeat them with your fists? What did they do to offend you?"

"They came to my territory, stole my tanks, beat up my men, and smashed my garbage truck. So I took some men and drove over at night, with a submachine gun and a few handguns, and raided their hideout," Zhang Ailun said calmly.

"No, it wasn't you... wait a minute, you took some men with guns and went over there?" Old Karl's brain went blank.

Why did you pull out a gun all of a sudden? Isn't this just a street fight between homeless people?

Do you even have any sense of martial ethics?

"Yeah, so they're actually pretty easy to talk to," Zhang Ailun remarked.

That bird feeds.

You've practically shoved a gun to their head, just like a gang. It's a classic case of overwhelming them with your power. No wonder they can't stay tough!

Those who understand the nuances of the caliber are truly outstanding.

"When did you get another car?" Old Karl asked, somewhat bewildered.

Two vehicles.

Zhang Ailun smiled and said, "A motorhome and an old pickup truck."

Looking at his pickup truck, he glanced at it a few times and said, "That pickup truck is probably about the same age as yours, and it's not worth much. Only that RV is worth something, about $7200."

"..."

So what? Human language?

Old Karl was speechless. He took two gulps of wine, his throat dry.

No, it's only been a few days. How come your influence seems to have grown so quickly?

Are you a locust? You devour people and occupy land wherever you see it.

You look like you're going to eat the whole street of Fifth Street. Aren't you afraid of stuffing yourself to death?

Why don't I join you? To be honest, the speed at which you make money is a bit too scary.

It took old Karl a while to process all this information. He sighed, "The streets these days are really unpredictable. Back in our day, we rarely pulled out guns on the street. If we had a personal grudge, we'd settle it one-on-one in an alley."

"So you're not a gangster, you're just a garbage collector," Zhang Ailun said.

"You're right, but I don't regret it. I'm actually glad I didn't go down the path of no return to gangs." Old Karl nodded, chuckled, rubbed his hands together, and focused his attention on him.

"You've got quite a bit of territory now, and you've even taken over a few automatic recycling machines, but don't forget to look after me here! I used to take good care of your good friend Dominic!"

"Of course I know that, but there aren't many automatic recycling machines. They're all located near convenience stores and ATMs. Each machine can only provide $200 a day, and I'll still have to bring the rest of the cans to you to sell," Zhang Ailun said frankly.

"I'm relieved that you have this idea."

Old Karl nodded with satisfaction, little did he know that this was merely a stopgap measure by the Grand Master.

"Allen, do you need my help? Help me find those people who smashed my shop! Don't worry, I won't treat you unfairly! I'll hire your people for $1000!" Old Karl patted his chest.

$1500.

Zhang Ailun didn't hesitate to state his bottom line. He had come specifically for this matter. "For Dominic's sake, I'm happy to stand up for you."

Old Karl was stunned, feeling as if his underwear had been seen through.

"My men are armed; scaring a bunch of homeless people for you is no big deal."

Zhang Ailun explained, "This price is already very fair! If it's acceptable, great; if not, then forget it."

"Alright. But I can't provide any clues. You'll have to find the people yourselves. It might have been done by those Mexican short-tailed dogs!" Old Karl thought for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

(End of this chapter)