The truck thundered down the street.
Hardy, clad in Black Gold, stood in the cargo hold, squinting as he recalled the intel the Penguin had given him.
The Barletta family—a small to medium-sized crime family that had risen in Gotham over the past year. The core members were Simon Barletta and his son John Barletta, along with several relatives and some capable criminals who formed the backbone of the family.
Simon Barletta was cunning and devious, the mastermind and planner of the family's crimes. John Barletta was vicious and combative, the main executor of the family's criminal activities.
On the surface, they owned a private shipping company and a bar.
In reality, they used the shipping company as a front for smuggling weapons and trafficking organs, and laundered money through the bar. They had about fifty members, most of whom were armed associates—some were ex-military, giving them a decent supply of firearms and overall combat skills, though they lacked heavy firepower. About a month ago, they allegedly teamed up with another organization to secretly hijack a shipment belonging to the Penguin.
In Hardy's eyes, the Barletta family was nowhere near on par with the Penguin's Iceberg Lounge.
So why would this family go up against the Penguin?
There were plenty of possible explanations. Maybe the Penguin's shipment contained something extremely valuable, enough to make them risk offending him. Or perhaps their partner organization was powerful enough to stand up to the Penguin—or even stronger—and the Barletta family was just a downstream group, a disposable glove.
"But what does that have to do with me?"
Hardy grinned, looking out the window.
"I'm just here to avenge Chidi Cole, the former boss who was killed by the Barletta family—and maybe expand my own turf a little. The fight between the Hog Union and the Barletta family is just a normal gang war."
In the cab up front, the truck driver flicked his cigarette butt out the window and pressed a button by the door.
"Signal jammer's on. For a while, no calls are getting out of Dock Street. The Barletta family won't be able to call for backup, and the cops won't get involved right away."
The driver's lazy voice drifted back.
Hardy nodded in satisfaction.
"Good. That fifty-dollar hourly wage and the thirty grand for the truck were worth it."
"Sorry, Mr. Watt, but the signal jammer on the roof isn't included with the truck. Using it costs sixty dollars a minute…"
Hardy's face darkened.
He should've known nothing comes cheap with the Penguin.
The truck neared its destination. After rounding a corner, it and the thirty-odd armed bikers skidded to a stop in front of a bar.
"What do you think you're doing? This is Barletta territory—"
The suited guard at the bar entrance shouted.
The next moment, the Accountant raised his AR-15 and opened fire.
One of the suited men went down. The other clutched his bleeding ear in confusion and fled back inside the bar.
"We're under attack!!!"
The Accountant stared in disbelief at his rifle.
How did I only hit his ear with a rifle at this distance?
"Accountant, let me take point next time."
A tattooed, muscular man named Aman shouted, then hefted a riot shield in his left hand, an M4 in his right, and kicked open the door, charging inside.
"For Boss Chidi!"
The gangsters cheered and stormed in after him.
"All right, then."
The Accountant glanced at his own rather slender arms, adjusted his glasses, shouldered his gun, and followed.
That Aman guy had been the toughest fighter in the old Cole gang—a former police academy dropout, tall and powerfully built, with some professional training.
Upstairs in a private room on the bar's second floor, John Barletta was drinking with a dancer in his arms. On the third floor, Simon Barletta was doing the books. Both heard the gunfire erupting downstairs.
Under Attack!
The Sbaletta family reacted swiftly. Under the organization of John Sbaletta and several key members, they quickly began to fight back.
The Hogg Union had the advantage of a surprise attack. At that moment, not all members of the Sbaletta family were present in the bar, and they were caught off guard, resulting in significant casualties.
However, the Sbaletta family was ultimately a more established and powerful gang than the Hogg Union. Under the direction of several retired soldiers, they quickly set up an effective defense, blocking the Hogg Union's men on the first floor.
Intense gunfire, shattered neon lights, screaming dancers, and terrified guests cowering under tables.
Citizens of Gotham, especially those in the slums, were no strangers to shootings and gang wars. They knew how to protect themselves in such situations, but that didn't mean they weren't afraid.
Soon, people hiding behind sofas and tables took out their phones and tried to call the Gotham Police Department.
No signal.
The signal jammer mounted on the truck outside the bar was interfering with all electromagnetic signals in the area.
"Damn it! Jeno and Keen are injured too! And Carls!"
Frank the blond thug crouched behind a riot shield, gripping his gun nervously. Even when he found an opportunity, he only dared to stick out half his body and fire wildly, not caring whether he hit anyone.
Many of the Hogg Union's thugs had only done extortion and similar jobs. Only a few, like Aman, had actually fired a gun or participated in real robberies and shootouts. Overall, their strength was two levels below that of the Sbaletta family.
"With this kind of strength, they dare to cause trouble on Sbaletta turf? Damn it, the Cole Gang must have a death wish. What does Chidi Cole's death have to do with us? I'm going to kill every last one of these little bastards today!"
John Sbaletta licked his lips excitedly and loaded his submachine gun.
"Be careful, John. If they dare to come here, they must have something up their sleeves."
Simone Sbaletta gripped his pistol and warned cautiously.
He felt something was off.
It was obvious the other side was just a ragtag bunch, but why hadn't they collapsed after all this time?
They must have some trump card!
"Aman, I'm scared. What if I want to run?"
The green-haired mohawk whimpered, clutching his wounded leg.
"The boss should have trained you enough by now. You've all seen blood—you should be able to handle it."
Aman, the muscle-bound man, leaned against a pillar, panting heavily.
If Boss Watt doesn't show up soon, they're all doomed!
At that moment, the wall of the bar's main hall suddenly exploded, and a black steel giant over two meters tall strode in.