American fame and fortune

In the evening, it was getting dark, in an abandoned wooden house not far from Clayton.

Poyet sat on a small box, took out his crotch with one hand, put it up to his nose and smelled it, and immediately felt refreshed.

On the opposite side, on the broken sofa and wooden chairs, sat four black men who were darker than him.

They are also dressed in black, which is easy to miss.

One of the bald heads said: "Boss Boss, we just got this place, you want to grab the market? You have a higher status in the gang than us, but we are not afraid of you."

Poyet said, "Tom, I've come to do business with you guys."

Bald Tom raised his finger and shook: "We are not short of money."

The dreadlocked boy next to him, Jerry, pulled out a tequila box and opened it flamboyantly, revealing rolls of dollar bills inside.

Poyet got up to open the box, kicked it down, and a lot of 20 dollars were scattered inside.

"Come with me and take out a piece of shit in the Clayton community," he said. "It's all yours."

Tom asked, "Who's that shit?"

Poyet remembered the information collected by Adam Smith, and asked his acquaintance APD about the situation that day, and had some guesses in his mind.

There is also the matter of robbing customers after ten o'clock. New and old hatreds are added together. He said: "That guy is a young actor, he seems to have some money, let's go there together, catch him and fuck him, you can squeeze as much as you can."

The two black people, Spike and Butch, couldn't help but want to respond.

Tom, who had a little more brains, stopped them and asked, "Does he live alone?"

Boyet nodded: "I rent a house alone."

Dreadlocked Jerry came over and whispered in Tom's ear, "Five against one, we have the advantage."

Tom glanced at the banknotes on the ground, then at the tequila box. The gap was a bit wide.

Doing what he is best at and almost penetrating his soul, he stopped thinking about it and said, "We'll take over this job."

Poyet laughed, pulled out the M1911, and checked the magazine.

The other four were also ready to raise their pistols.

Tom glanced at Poyet's clothes, took out a black suit and handed it to him: "Put on these, we are the kings of the night!"

Poyet immediately changed his clothes.

Black skin and black clothes are a perfect match.

…………

Inside the Clayton community, there are still a few dim street lights on, which is a little more reassuring than the darkness outside.

Wearing shorts and shorts, Martin checked the doors and windows one by one and returned to the sofa.

The shotgun is placed under the coffee table, within easy reach.

The bedroom door creaked, and Elena sneaked out, jumping on top of Martin.

Just as Martin made a move, he heard the bedroom door ringing again, subconsciously turned his head to look, and his eyes caught Lily's face.

"Fake!" Elena also found out, and turned around angrily.

Martin casually took out something from under the coffee table and threw it at Lily.

The pink kettle smashed against the door frame.

The sound of the kettle falling to the ground startled the people in the other bedroom.

Hall with a baseball bat and Harris with a pistol all ran out.

Any interest in Martin and Elena was now gone.

The latter got up and growled, "Go back to sleep!"

Both bedroom doors closed and Martin turned off the lamp.

Covered with a blanket, after an unknown amount of time, he was dreaming of single-handedly fighting three phoenixes, when he suddenly heard the rattle of a can.

Martin was also the one who had trained with Bruce many times. He immediately stood up, picked up the shotgun, and went to the window to check the situation.

It was the sound of popping cans again, the wind couldn't blow it so loudly.

Martin heard movement behind him and glanced back to see Elena coming out barefoot, holding her shotgun.

"I heard a noise and saw you again," she said.

Martin made her hide behind a masonry support wall.

He looked out, the street lights were a little far away, it was pitch black outside, and he couldn't see anything.

Elena felt chilly and couldn't help asking: "James crawled out?"

Martin heard voices faintly, and was about to distinguish them carefully when a scream suddenly sounded.

"Ah--" Then I heard a somewhat familiar curse: "Who dug the trap! And put nails!"

The trap, of course, was dug by Hall.

Martin decided to startle the people over there, shouting, "Who are you? Get the hell out of here! I have a gun in my hand..."

Before he finished speaking, he heard gunshots and subconsciously shrunk his neck.

People outside heard the sound and fired. In the dark night, the ghost knows where the bullets flew.

"It's that bastard!" The somewhat familiar voice shouted again: "I've seen his late-night scenes, and it was his voice just now."

Martin glanced. It was pitch black outside. He didn't know where the person was. He raised his shotgun and fired a shot through the open window according to the direction the sound came from.

boom--

The sound of gunfire completely broke the tranquility of the night.

"Fake! Get rid of that bastard!"

There was a burst of random gunshots, but luckily they were all pistols.

Elena also fired from another window, and the bullet flew into the sky.

Martin yelled at her: "Don't show your head! Don't let the three idiots in the house come out, call Wood and the others, and let the neighborhood allies come to help."

Instead of calling the police and hoping for a lingering APD, you might as well count on the fledgling neighborhood league.

Elena took Martin's mobile phone and called Wood and others one after another. They were awakened and immediately said that they would come to help.

The gunfire outside stopped, and Martin stretched out the barrel of his gun. Regardless of whether he saw anyone or not, he fired four shots in one breath, and then quickly squatted down to reload.

There were no screams outside, but pistol shots.

boom! boom--

Gunshots sounded in the distance, and the neighborhood allies were mobilized, with more than a dozen guns firing from front and back.

"Go!" The people outside were not stupid: "Poyet, there are many of them, let's go!"

The voice shouted angrily: "Tom, don't call me by my name! Are you idiots! Jerry, I sprained my ankle, come help me!"

The cans rattled again, and Martin fired again, firing five rounds in one go.

"Ouch! My ass!"

Martin was lucky enough to catch one of them.

More gunshots came, and someone outside shouted: "Come on, leave Poyet alone, he can't run with his ass blooming!"

Martin reloaded the gun, and waved to the three idiots who opened the door to peek: "Go back! Don't come out to seek death!"

Harris told his younger siblings to go back to the room quickly, and he held his pistol tightly and stood guard at the door of the two bedrooms.

There was the sound of car motors outside, and the headlights of multiple cars illuminated the road in front of the door.

Nani's loud voice rang out: "Martin, Elena, are you guys alive?"

To be on the safe side, Martin didn't show his face, and replied loudly: "We're fine, I seem to have hit a son of a bitch!"

Valencia shouted excitedly: "Look, there is a black X with a blooming ass! Martin, you blasted his back door with a bullet!"

Martin boasted: "My marksmanship is 1v2, 1v3, what a joke."

Wood said at this time: "Come out, it's okay."

Martin poked his head out to look, opened the door, and walked out with his gun pointing upwards.

Wood reminded: "Don't run around, protect the scene." He unified the caliber: "Old Hei attacked the community houses, and we were forced to defend ourselves."

The others obliged with a bang.

The bad things that happened tonight made them feel threatened, and they will be more united in the near future.

Wood called the police again, went to see the old black, and said, "Natural protective color, a born criminal."

Martin came to the fence in the yard and saw the old black moaning in pain.

Black skin, black bald head, black clothes...

No wonder he couldn't see people.

This inherent advantage is too great.

Look again, and Martin realizes he knows Poyet, the black bar owner.

"You bunch of trash, don't be too happy!" Poyet's butt was blooming, and he was still saying harshly: "The Nancheng Gang will not let you go!"

Martin turned the butt of his gun and slammed it on Poyet's mouth: "I'll fuck you!"

More than half of Poyet's teeth flew out, and his words were leaking.

Martin exclaimed, "You all saw it. He fell it himself."

The others laughed and echoed: "Yes, he fell!"