In recent days, the underworld hasn't seen any earth-shattering changes due to the deaths of Kingpin and the Owl. At least, that's what Leon thought should have happened. Maybe there should have been some sort of change, but Leon must have underestimated S.H.I.E.L.D.'s control over the dark forces, or overestimated Kingpin and the Owl. After taking only a day off, Leon was back to causing trouble under the guise of testing his equipment and skills, but the streets weren't as chaotic as he had imagined.
However, he didn't come away empty-handed.
...
**The Wild Style Bar.**
Jason has found it tough to run his business lately. A few days ago, he heard rumors that the bosses of the two biggest local gangs were taken out, one of them even had his base taken down single-handedly! How could that be true? Just another tall tale made up by a drunken fool trying to show off his "inside information."
As a bartender and owner of a bar, Jason's heard his fair share of nonsense.
Last year, he heard someone say that the ashes of ghosts smashed by some flaming skull guy with a chain could cure impotence. The guy made it sound like he was the chain itself! What a load of rubbish! He even charged $100 per bottle of some murky water! Jason only spent $80 to buy two bottles.
Now that's what you call smart!
But anyway, those rumors don't have much to do with him. He's just an ordinary citizen running a mediocre bar in a bad location. He doesn't care about those stories; he just cares about business.
Business has been slow lately, and that's the real headache.
Since it's a small bar, there's naturally no good liquor, and there aren't any exciting shows either. So the main customers are the aimless lowlifes who have nothing better to do than loiter around.
Recently, it seemed like these guys have been getting into trouble, almost as if they planned it. A couple today, a couple tomorrow, all showing up with bruises, swelling, and black eyes. If Jason didn't know better, he'd think there was some kind of underground fight club going on in the neighborhood.
When they get to the bar, things get even stranger. They just look at each other, point to their own faces, then to the others' faces, nod in unison, and clink their glasses.
All without a single word spoken.
When you're running a business like this, the last thing you want is to pry into your customers' private affairs—curiosity can get you into trouble. But Jason is genuinely curious! What's going on?
*Ding!*
The old Western-style double doors creak open, and the sound of a small bell alerts Jason that today's first customer has arrived.
The man walks in with a hat on, pauses when he sees the empty bar, shakes his head, and turns to leave.
"Joey!" Jason calls out to him. He's a regular customer, but he hasn't been in for a few days.
"Come have a drink with me."
The stingy bar owner pours two glasses of mixed tequila.
The man named Joey doesn't refuse and takes a seat at the empty bar counter.
After they raise their glasses and take a sip, the bartender starts his complaints.
"Damn business! Where have all those drunks who earn money just to drink gone?"
Joey mutters something under his breath and takes another gulp.
The bar owner is eager to extract some valuable information from his customer, so he keeps pestering Joey, who's been a loyal patron for a long time.
"Maybe they're scared and won't come out," Joey finally repeats what he muttered earlier.
A middle-aged man's incessant chattering is bad enough, but it's even worse when that middle-aged man is drunk.
"Or maybe they ended up in the hospital or the slammer. Who cares? Isn't that normal?"
Normal?
What's normal about that? Is there some kind of "buy one, get one half off" deal going on?
The owner didn't get the valuable information he was hoping for, so he began probing with what he thought were clever tactics, irritating Joey in the process.
Maybe he couldn't bear to waste the drink, or maybe he was just fed up with the owner. Joey gulped down the rest of his glass, waved it at Jason, and gestured for a refill.
The devil would spit on your soul, you cheap, opportunistic drunk!
Pouring another glass, this time a larger one filled with beer, Jason watched as Joey took off his hat and placed it on the bar.
Jason looked at Joey's bruised face and pretended to be surprised, "What happened to you?"
Actually, Jason had noticed it the moment Joey walked in. Joey wasn't usually the type to wear a hat.
And lately, it seemed like all the customers were wearing hats!
The owner's awkward acting was just an exaggerated open mouth and wide-eyed expression. Joey couldn't be bothered to call him out on it. Free drinks are what matter.
Pointing to the bruises on his face, Joey said, "You're curious about this, aren't you? I bet you've seen quite a few of these wounds lately."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah!"
The owner nodded enthusiastically like a chicken pecking at rice.
After gulping down half a glass of beer, Joey finally began to share his story.
"Recently, a... lunatic has appeared on these nearby streets."
A lunatic? So what? The owner was curious but wisely stayed quiet.
Joey touched the bruise on his face and continued, "This lunatic only appears in the middle of the night, wearing a strange outfit and a bizarre mask. The only visible skin is on his hands."
Hearing this, the owner took a sip of his drink and thought: How big must that mask be...
"That lunatic attacks everyone he encounters. Usually, it's a punch to the face. If the first punch doesn't knock you out, there's a second one waiting."
"So that's how you all got those injuries?"
The owner was baffled. Aren't you guys supposed to be thugs? Don't you know how to fight back?
Sensing the owner's thoughts, Joey explained directly, "It's not that no one fought back, but the lunatic just doesn't care. And those who did fight back woke up after being knocked out, only to find themselves surrounded by several other people dressed the same. And those guys played rock-paper-scissors to decide the order to beat them up!"
"What happened next? What happened next?"
Such thrilling—er, unfortunate—events!
"After that, that person was sent to Psycho Hospital for treatment."
Psycho Hospital? Isn't that a mental institution?
"Huh? They fought all night? Got beaten senseless?"
Joey gave the owner a look like he was the crazy one, "Of course not. He kept telling everyone he got beaten up by a clown flying around on a balloon. He even said the clown had a talking cat, and that cat also beat him up! Then he started going on about some giant wasp that practiced Jeet Kune Do and how much it hurt when it hit him..."
The owner lit a cigarette and said, "Yeah, he definitely needed to be checked out at Psycho Hospital."
He then asked Joey curiously, "So, is that how you got your injury? Did that nutjob beat you up?"
Joey lit a cigarette too, blowing out a cloud of smoke. With a mysterious tone, he replied, "No."
"I got beaten up by that talking cat."
Bar owner Jason fell silent.
After a moment, he put away Joey's glass and poured him another drink.
Jason thought to himself: I really shouldn't sell fake booze anymore.
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(End of chapter)