Sooho 119

Ahn Soo Ho didn't have any kind of fantasy about life or death. Among the many regrets that he looked into the afterlife, there were many beautiful sacrifices without any greed as well. But there were those who regretted their sacrifice.

'A single mom who went through hard times trying to raise three children. A father who ran in front of a car to save his daughter. A police officer who fought for the safety of the citizens. A firefighter who played around between life and death.'

Their actions shined brightly in this cruel world.

'Oh, maybe the world is worth living in after all!'

Whether it was big or small, doing something for others required a great deal of courage. Even if that other person wasn't a family member or a close friend, sacrifice meant a lot. It was obvious why the States especially liked heroes. That was because, in real life, they knew all too well that those who committed heroic acts were rare.

The New York terrorist attack brought forth many heroes.

Aside from soldiers, police officers, firefighters, and paramedics, there were hidden heroes within a neighborhood as well. No matter how antigovernment the media was, they all became nationalists today. If America didn't exist, the media wouldn't exist either. In the midst of America's relief operations, a second blackout put New York back into panic.

Fire in District 14! Dispatch!

A car accident in the midtown tunnel! Someone come down here!

People have been trapped in the Rockefeller elevators for 5 hours! Can someone help?

What are the national guards doing? Don't just roam around Manhattan and come to Brooklyn and Queens!

What Ahn Soo Ho was going for wasn't the disordered chaos that Dakoma caused, but the chaos that was being orchestrated. Since the relief operations were disorganized, dangerous areas such as Harlem, Sugar Hill, and Upper Manhattan were being excluded. As a result, the New York police and the FBI didn't pay much attention to those areas either.

In the darkness that fell upon New York once again, Ahn Soo Ho walked around as if everything was normal.

'Here it is.'

He found the Braves' headquarters after beating up a black man for its location. Was it a strip bar? The neon sign was off, but he noticed women who were half naked. As soon as he got inside, he heard a very loud noise. Were they ready for a disaster? There were a few lamps on and the lanterns and candles were lit as well.

"Those government workers don't do any work, do they?"

Both Koreans and Americans liked to talk trash about government workers.

"The New York deputy mayor croaked, and that gay guy croaked, too. Who's next? Us?"

"Haha."

"Haha."

Even though the situation wasn't funny, they made it into a joke. In New York's criminal world, every single day was another challenge for them. If they didn't beat those challenges, they would disappear. If they did beat them, it meant that they were able to aim for bigger and better things.

The Braves were challengers.

White people thought all black people were the same, but those from Africa and those from Latin America had slight differences. The black people who came straight from Africa were the authentic black people of America while the ones who were scattered among Cuba, Central America, and South America were considered 2nd generation immigrants.

The black people who went to America before President Lincoln's emancipation of slaves, and those who arrived after keeping a safe distance from one another. If one had to differentiate gangs, the Braves were an African black gang. And in order to become true members, they had to complete an introduction ceremony.

Murder.

They had to kill people.

They surprisingly were against killing members of an opposing gang because they didn't want an unnecessary war to break. They preferred killing normal people who had nothing to do with gangs. Why did they glorify murder so much? Because they wanted fear and weakness. The fear resulting from committing an irreversible crime as well as solidarity became a weakness that gang leaders used against their members.

The biggest criminals were able to make deals with judicial authorities. So if there was no other alternative, they chose to sell off one of their members in order to save their own asses. There was no such thing as loyalty among criminals since even a gang leaders' subordinate would screw around them all the time as well.

Michael's death was kind of like an introduction ceremony. How regrettable was it that a veteran like him got killed by a little boy? No one lived thinking they would get into an accident. For that reason, it happened when he least expected it.

"Anyway… are you sure there won't be any problems?"

"With what?"

"The Upper East Side."

A black man sniffing cocaine shook his hand.

"Of course not. Why—you ask? Because there's no evidence! Unless there's a police officer in disguise in here, that is."

While the bigger organizations hid out during the New York terrorist attack, The Braves changed their plans to attack East Harlem to the Upper East Side instead. A criminals reputation came from evil on top of a commendable experience. When people put fear in their competitors, they were capable of doing much worse than murder.

"I don't know about damage to property, but initiating a fire is a bit…"

"Those dumb police officers are so busy with the terrorist attack that they probably won't be able to do anything."

The word about a riot in the Upper East Side had been spread around, and that would naturally improve The Braves' reputation. Of course, it would also get the attention of investigation officials, but as organizations grew, they were bound to run into them.

"Then did Jamie pass through?"

"Yeah. He did kill an unlucky rich guy."

"Rich? He just looked like a regular guard to me."

"Whatever he was, he lived in a rich house—didn't he? Why are you bringing that up and making me lose my appetite anyway?"

He threw his glass and got mad. As soon as he calmed down, a stripper offered him another glass of alcohol. When he took out a 100 dollar bill, she immediately stuck out her breasts. The dollar bills caused laughter that lightened up the mood. But at that very moment, an unfamiliar voice could be heard, ruining the mood once again.

"Jamie? Tell me more about him."

"What?"

Following the New York terrorist attack, the stripper immediately closed their business. Therefore, no stranger was able to enter. Instead of the regular bartender, an unfamiliar person was standing behind the bar's counter instead.

"You…"

As soon as the surprised black man took out his gun, Ahn Soo Ho shook his hand. The many guns then got stuck onto it like magnets.

"Gasp!"

When one was too surprised, it was hard to scream. What put them in a panic was a door closing by itself, and a table flying over by itself and blocking the entrance. Were they just seeing things because of alcohol and drugs? No way.

The gang leader was groping a stripper's ass when he suddenly flew over and was sat in a chair as a result of Ahn Soo Ho's gesture. He stared at Ahn Soo Ho as if he saw a ghost.

"Who's Jamie?"

"I… I don't know."

It was him, who gave that answer who was more freaked out. And his bad feeling about what was going to happen next was right.

"Agh!"

A bartender's knife went through his hand into the bar. When the other startled black men got ready to fight, Ahn Soo Ho put a dozen alcohol bottles in the air. The sharp edges of the bottles were as dangerous as a knife.

"I dare you to move and see what happens."

One of the bottles that Ahn Soo Ho flicked hit a pole and shattered into pieces. He looked back at the gang leader who was screaming because of his stabbed hand.

"White people always say the same thing at a time like this. That they want their lawyers."

But it looked like he needed a doctor more than a lawyer. Ahn Soo Ho went inside the bar. What he made once he got there looked more like a soup than a cocktail. He owned many bars not just in Korea, but in other countries as well. Alcohol and cocktails differed depending on who made them.

"Bullshot."

It was a lawyer's cocktail that was called "Damn It".

"Okay, now that we have a lawyer, start talking."

It was comical to talk to a Harlem trash about cocktail names, but he did him a favor of getting him a lawyer. Ahn Soo Ho took out five pictures. He burnt one and took out another. The one in the photo that he burnt was already dead, and the other was right in front of him.

"Who?"

He wasn't a part of the five suspects, but the little boy who shot Michael was Jamie. He put the boy aside for the time being. The gang leader looked to the side when he saw the photo of a person with their eyes covered with a bandana. As soon as someone flinched while looking at the boss in the eyes, a dozen bottles flew back into the air.

"Agh!"

What would it look like to see a person get stabbed by multiple pieces of glass? The person got ripped up like a rag.

"Next."

The gang leader looked for the next target as if he was possessed by something. A black man tried to dodge by impulse, but the glass ripped him to shreds as well. His skin got ripped up as if he was a piece of meat getting cut up at a butcher's shop.

"Who else?"

Once Ahn Soo Ho burned two out of three photos, he only had one left. The person in the photo took out his gun, but as soon as he did, a pole dancing pole went right through his chest.

"Agh!"

Such horrific deaths made them terrified and lose their reason.

Ahn Soo Ho didn't care about what just happened and just made his own cocktail. His leisure gave off a different seriousness from death. He liked alcohol, but he didn't like the drinking culture that told people to drink until they die. One person once asked Ahn Soo Ho why he owned so many bars.

This was what Ahn Soo Ho answered.

'When people drink, they become honest.'

Men thought of alcohol as something that comforted a hurt soul. A drink of alcohol was used to see off a friend who was leaving for a long trip. He couldn't say that alcohol companies didn't have even 1% skill, but there weren't much men could do amongst themselves. Crying didn't suit mercenaries.

Aberdeen Angus.

Ahn Soo Ho made a lukewarm cocktail that wasn't cold or hot. It had the taste of a tough man. When Ahn Soo Ho first had this drink, he didn't mind it at all. It wasn't delicious, but it wasn't bad either. It was just so-so.

He didn't have any fantasies about life or death. That was because he had already seen the end of both life and death. Ahn Soo Ho's experience at Styx changed him completely. It wasn't because he was a magician. He felt like he lost a lot as a human being. He loved Jang Seol Hyun, but he felt like he could let her go if necessary. He cherished Mrs. Park Ok Nam and Lee So Hye, but he felt like he could give them up too.

Michael's death was sad.

However, he wasn't in that much pain that he wanted to die. This was different from being cold-hearted. He didn't have any hope or despair. Sometimes, he had no idea what he even wanted. Did he just have to do whatever he wanted to be satisfied as if he was a 7-year-old child? Michael's death was definitely his responsibility. However, he wanted to push it on someone else.

"I know that revenge gives birth to another type of hatred. Even these trashy bastards are probably precious friends and family to someone else."

Ahn Soo Ho grumbled.

"You really never know with life. So I'm more often annoyed than having fun. How nice would it be if we knew what will happen in the future?"

Was he drunk? Not at all. The cocktail that Ahn Soo Ho made wasn't for himself.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I'll take care of your family from now on."

Ahn Soo Ho was giving Michael some last words of comfort. He raised his glass for Michael and then drank it for him. He then grabbed the knife in the gang leader's hand and stared at him right in the eyes.

"Deliver this message to Michael for me."

"Who's Michael…"

The gang leader's head twisted off. He was no longer in pain. Ahn Soo Ho led the remaining dregs out of the burning bar and just stared at it blankly. Would this have made Michael feel less wronged? He didn't know.

He answered his vibrating phone.

"Alexa."

"I found weapon dealers on Sugar Hill, Soo Ho. But there are many of them. Is that okay?"

"Send the biggest one first."

"Okay!"

The little boy wasn't his responsibility, but the one who gave him a gun had to pay the price. Ahn Soo Ho lifted his head and looked at the drone in the sky. It was so high up that no average person would have seen it, but he wasn't just an average person.

'Is it the National Reconnaissance Office?'

NRO was a military reconnaissance organization. Once Ahn Soo Ho appeared in the picture they dipped their fingers in drones as well. Whether the White House and Ahn Soo Ho were friendly or not, the States made sure to keep their eye on him.

'This is why the States is scary.'

They would do whatever they could to become superior.

'Whatever.'

Ahn Soo Ho stuck up his middle finger into the sky.

< Protect – Episode 118 – Code Name Wizard [6] > The end.

Chapter end