"What is this thing!"
John Spalletta, covered in dust from the explosion, looked in shock at the black gold tank-like figure charging into the bar.
"Maybe they're after the cargo we transported last time."
"But that thing isn't here with us, we were just helping! It's the other big shots they want!"
John Spalletta said angrily.
"Stop talking and try to deal with this strange thing first."
The old Spalletta pulled out a mirror, observing the position of the black gold through the reflection, and then pulled out a grenade with his teeth, removed the pin, and threw it after waiting for three to four seconds.
"Boom!"
The grenade exploded in mid-air near the black gold, causing it to stagger.
The next moment, a rotating gun barrel protruded from the shoulder of the black gold, madly spraying in the direction where the grenade had flown.
"What the hell is this monster!"
Simon Spalletta was greatly surprised, then quickly reached out to grab his son's arm.
"Let the subordinates block here, we'll leave first! The secret passage is in the restroom!"
Within a minute or two, their subordinates were taken down by the black gold.
The father and son hurriedly left. After a few steps, a dark figure fell from the ceiling.
Clearwater landed, pounced on John Spalletta, pressed his hands with his shins to prevent resistance, pulled out a pistol with his left hand, and aimed it at Simon Spalletta's forehead.
With a light pull of his right hand, accompanied by heavy footsteps, the blood-stained black gold dragged a man in a suit and raised his arm.
The pneumatic fist struck, and the man in the suit was smashed into the wall, turning into a pile of flesh.
"We surrender..."
Simonni raised his hands to the man in front of him.
"A wise choice."
Clearwater tilted his head, and Aman and the blond immediately took off their belts, tied up Simonni and John.
"Accountant, Aman, you guys take care of the aftermath. Anthony, Jackson, take the people to the second floor. I will personally interrogate them."
"Understood, boss. I will find all the money they have hidden here."
The accountant pushed his glasses, with a sinister smile.
"Boss, rest assured, if anyone causes trouble, I will send them to meet God!"
Aman carried a rifle, a cruel smile on his blood-stained face.
The Spalletta father and son were escorted by two subordinates to a private room on the second floor.
"Kneel!"
Anthony and Jackson kicked the shins of the Spalletta father and son, making them kneel in front of the table.
Clearwater sat on the sofa, picked up a small knife from the fruit plate, weighed it a few times, then swiftly and skillfully cut the apples in the plate into neat pieces.
Although the ninja school only taught basic cold weapon techniques, with chakra-enhanced physical abilities, it still looked intimidating.
"My knife is fast, although not as fast as those sword masters who can cut bullets with knives, it's enough to cut people. And I know some human anatomy, so I can cut on a person to..."
More than a hundred pieces of meat, causing the other party to feel pain but not to die or faint."
"Boss, just ask whatever you want to ask. I've faced enough threats in my life. I only hope you can spare John's life."
Simmons sighed.
"Dad, you..."
"No, no, no..."
Hardy picked up a sanitary towel from the table and stuffed it into John Spalletta's mouth.
"Both of you, take this kid to a private room further away from here. I want to interrogate them separately. If your answers don't match, it means at least one of you is lying. Then both of you will have to see if my skills can really cut off a hundred pieces of meat. If your answers match, then I can consider your request, how about that?"
A shy smile appeared on Hardy's face.
Threatening people like this felt a bit unfamiliar.
But it didn't matter; with more practice in the future, it should become more familiar.
John Spalletta was dragged by Anthony and Jackson to a private room diagonally across the hallway.
"What do you want to know, ask quickly."
Simmons closed his eyes.
"Alright, first question, how much is your gang's total assets? Where are they hidden?"
"The account books are in the office upstairs. There's roughly over seven hundred thousand US dollars in cash, and other properties like shops are also recorded there. There are two hundred thousand US dollars in the office drawer, fifteen thousand in Gotham Savings and Loan, ten thousand in Wayne Enterprises Private Bank, and over thirty thousand in the safe at the supermarket warehouse on 31 Dek Street."
Compared to the two gang bosses he had encountered before, Simmons clearly understood the importance of not putting all eggs in one basket.
"The locations and passwords of the banks."
"One is on me, and the other is on my son, the password is the founding time of the United States."
That would be 840512.
"Did you rob the Penguin's goods a month ago?"
"We did participate in that operation, but the goods were never with us. The person who wanted them was Mr. Hugo."
"Hugo?"
Hardy's first impression was Victor Hugo, the famous French writer from history, who had been dead for over a hundred years.
"Hugo Strange, a professor at Gotham State University, the chief consultant at Arkham Asylum, and recently became a councilor in Gotham City Council."
That rang a bell, but it was just a faint memory from the original self.
He had undergone a psychological evaluation by this person while being held in Arkham, but after assessing that the threat was not as significant as other notorious villains, he hadn't seen this scholar again.
"What were the goods?"
"I don't know. The goods were in a container, said to be a high-tech item manufactured by Dayton Industries in Metropolis. I don't know the specific name, function, or appearance."
Dayton Industries?
Never heard of it, but he could look it up later.
As long as it didn't disrupt his plans, Hardy couldn't be bothered with these troubles.
Any trouble could be solved by Batman.
Calling Jackson to watch over Simonni, Hardy went to the room diagonally across to interrogate John Spalletta.
Ten minutes later.
"Is that all?"
Hardy sighed, reluctantly playing with the fruit knife in his hand, looking disappointed.
Why were these two so cooperative?
Although he was a villain, keeping promises was still better than breaking them.
So...
"Anthony, check if the signal jammer outside is off. If it's off, send a message to the Penguin. Spalletta father and son are his responsibility."
He had only promised not to kill them, not to the Penguin.