One of the biggest gangs in Hell's Kitchen… got robbed?
Are you kidding me?
Hammerhead's already fierce face turned the color of pig liver on the spot, as if someone had slapped him across it.
Just a moment ago, he'd boasted in front of Fisk's representative, Wesley, claiming no one dared provoke the Maggia. And now someone actually dared cause trouble on his turf?
He could practically imagine Wesley's barely suppressed smirk.
Rage surged straight to his head. Hammerhead shoved aside two flirtatious dealers and shot to his feet, glaring viciously at the subordinate who delivered the message.
"Was it the Devil Gang!?"
"N-No, it wasn't them," the subordinate replied quickly.
That answer didn't calm Hammerhead down—instead, it was like tossing gasoline onto a bonfire.
Killing intent surged in his eyes. His voice dropped to a terrifying growl. "Looks like the Maggia hasn't made an example in too long. Any two-bit nobody thinks they can come step on us!"
"Tell me—how many people are there!?"
Facing a boss furious enough to eat someone alive, the subordinate swallowed hard, shakily lifting one finger.
"A hundred?"
Hammerhead frowned deeply. That was no small force.
"No… it's one person."
"?"
Hammerhead froze, suspecting his ears had malfunctioned.
"Are you sure you're not joking?"
"It's true, boss!"
After repeated confirmation, Hammerhead's furious roar shook the entire VIP room.
"One person dares wreak havoc on Maggia turf—where the hell are my men!?"
The subordinate hunched his shoulders under the shouting. "That guy's marksmanship is too good… he's already taken down more than thirty of our people. We can't stop him."
"Useless! A bunch of useless trash!"
Hammerhead's fists cracked like firecrackers as he clenched them. "I want to see which bastard has the guts to—"
BOOM!!
A thunderous explosion cut him off.
The wall of the private room was blown wide open. Dust and debris swept through the space.
A figure stepped through the smoke, walking in as casually as if he owned the place. In his hand, a golden Desert Eagle glinted so brightly under the lights it was painful to look at.
Daniel strolled in, sweeping his gaze over the stunned crowd before settling on Hammerhead's oversized dome.
"So you're the one they call Iron Head?"
Iron Head?
Is he talking about me?
Hammerhead's expression darkened as he glared at the intruder. "So you're the idiot making trouble on my turf!?"
Daniel spread his hands. "Can't help it. You guys wouldn't pay up, so I could only rob you."
Hammerhead's mouth twitched violently.
Don't pay, so he robs? This guy is more gangster than the actual gangsters.
"Kill him!"
Hammerhead finally snapped. Eyes filled with killing intent, he bellowed the order.
At once, his men drew their weapons and opened fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
A hailstorm of bullets roared toward Daniel.
Daniel rolled aside, muttering, "Shooting right away… local gangs really have no manners."
Reaper's Eye.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Daniel didn't even look. He simply raised his gun and fired.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Five gangsters dropped simultaneously, brains bursting open.
The rest panicked and unleashed another frantic barrage. Bullets rained down in waves.
But against a walking cheat code like Daniel, their resistance was meaningless.
Gunshots echoed. Screams cut short. Bodies dropped like harvested wheat.
Ten seconds later, the floor was littered with corpses. Only Hammerhead and Wesley were still alive.
"Coward!"
Hammerhead spat in contempt at Wesley trembling under a couch, then crawled out from under another couch himself.
"Who the hell are you? Who sent you!?"
Despite his brutish appearance, Hammerhead wasn't stupid. This guy clearly came for him.
Daniel straightened. "Since you figured it out, I won't pretend. Yes—I'm NYPD. I was sent to arrest you."
In reality, he had accepted a S.H.I.E.L.D. assignment to investigate Hammerhead, an abnormal mob boss.
Normally S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't handle gangs, but Hammerhead's intel was far from normal—eyewitnesses had seen bullets bounce off his skull, and he'd even head-butted a speeding car into a flip. None of that was remotely human.
Fury sent Daniel to Hell's Kitchen. If the reports were accurate, Daniel was to bring Hammerhead back for study.
Legality?
Whatever NYPD was doing definitely wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D.'s concern.
"You're NYPD?" Hammerhead eyed the golden Desert Eagle. His expression turned strange.
Since when did NYPD get that fancy?
Hammerhead hesitated, then said, "No matter who you are… leave now, and I'll pretend this never happened."
Perhaps intimidated by Daniel's strength and alleged identity, Hammerhead chose to back down.
Daniel refused immediately. "Impossible. I need to bring you back and finish the mission."
"Then there's nothing to talk about. Go die!"
Before he finished speaking, he lunged like a wild beast.
Bang!
A dull gunshot rang out.
Hammerhead only tilted his head slightly. A golden bullet was embedded in his forehead, spinning uselessly before dropping to the ground.
"Hahahaha! Useless!"
Hammerhead flicked away the dented spot with ease, laughing wildly. "I'm unkillable! Bullets can't harm me!"
Daniel raised an eyebrow. He didn't expect this guy really could tank bullets.
Feeling triumphant, Hammerhead slapped his massive head repeatedly, roaring, "Come on, you bastard! Keep shooting here! Let's see—AHHHH MY LEG!!"
Bang.
Hammerhead collapsed, clutching his bleeding leg and screaming.
"Wh-Why… didn't you shoot my head!?"
The disbelief in his voice was almost stronger than the pain.
His skull had once been destroyed in a brutal gang war. Doctors replaced it with a reinforced alloy plate, making his head bulletproof. That was the source of his so-called immortality.
But Daniel… shamelessly shot his knee instead.
"Are you stupid? You're literally called Iron Head. Even with my toes I know your skull is hard as steel. Why would I keep shooting there? Am I an idiot?"
Daniel looked at him like he was mentally challenged. If his first instinctive shot hadn't gone to the head, Hammerhead wouldn't even have had time to talk.
Hammerhead: "…"