Chapter 1220: The Worries of the New Director, and the New Employee

Misty, the young African-American woman, curled her lip as she drove. “Boss, we’ve been doing random patrols around the district recently. Apart from catching a few thieves and molesters, we haven’t seen anything else, like weed sellers or robbers. I think there’s something wrong here.”

The middle-aged man raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Misty said, “This is Clinton, the legendary Hell’s Kitchen. There were several major murder cases here at the end of last year. What’s going on this year? Except for the fact that the houses are still so rundown, law and order here isn’t any worse than in the Upper West Side. Does that make sense?”

The middle-aged man smiled. “So? Do you think it should continue to be chaotic?”

Misty shook her head. “Of course not, but… the improvements here don’t seem to have anything to do with us. Boss, before we came, you cheered me up and said that only by risking our lives would we be able to get results. Now…”

The middle-aged man subconsciously scratched his head.

He had always been a steady person, but in the face of this sharp question from his loyal subordinate, he still felt very embarrassed.

If he had known, he wouldn’t have made the situation sound so serious. His subordinate was full of fighting spirit, but had nowhere to release it, so he could only pull her out to patrol the streets. He sighed inwardly.

“Haven’t you heard?” he finally said. “Too many superheroes have appeared here. It’s not just the Clinton area; even the whole of Manhattan is no longer suitable for gang activities. Otherwise, if it isn’t multiple fractures for a gang member, it’s a concussion. It costs money for hoodlums to go to a doctor.”

Hearing that, Misty finally found a target to vent on. “Isn’t that our job? Why are we letting these ‘vigilantes’ do it? If they’ve done everything, why do we still need the 15th Precinct?”

The middle-aged man lowered the back of his chair to ease the ache in his waist. “If it wasn’t for them, do you think we could’ve cleaned up the vermin in the 15th Precinct? I’m afraid we would’ve been shot several times already.”

Misty snorted. “I’m not scared.”

The middle-aged man said, “Hey, I have a wife and a daughter. Can’t I be scared?”

Misty paid no attention to such rubbish. If her boss was afraid, would he have taken over the position of director of the 15th Precinct, and boldly cleaned up the dirty cops?

But perhaps he really was still afraid. Nobody wanted their family to be attacked by gangsters.

But now, the superheroes were taking turns to get rid of the gangsters, and the dirty cops in the 15th Precinct already no longer had backing.

Without gang accomplices, these dirty cops couldn’t use many of their tricks.

At the very least, they couldn’t pull a gun on a “suspected” gang member or threaten them since everybody knew that the gangs in Clinton had been beaten up and had left the area.

Without the gangs to cover for them, anything shady these dirty cops tried would immediately be found out.

With HQ’s full support, the police chief would definitely seize the opportunity to smash one or two of these rotten eggs.

At that time, they wouldn’t even have the opportunity to resign, and would be carted off to prison.

Thinking that, the director of the 15th Precinct smiled bitterly.

It wasn’t a good thing when a problem was too difficult.

But it also didn’t feel good for someone else to sort out the problem before he could do anything.

For example, he and Misty had come to the 15th Precinct full of “courage.”

They thought they would be punching iron plates, only to realize in the end that they were punching a pile of rotten cotton.

After a long silence, he said, “No matter what the future holds, we’ve reclaimed the 15th Precinct. Even if these superheroes don’t appear again in the future, we have more power to maintain order in Clinton, right?”

Unable to say anything for a moment, Misty punched the wheel in frustration. “I don’t like it. I’m not from Internal Affairs. Why am I spending all my time investigating dirty cops?”

The middle-aged man didn’t say anything else.

A subordinate who was enthusiastic about their job was a good thing. He wouldn’t discourage her.

It was actually better to feel some frustration. Once a person was satisfied, it was easy for them to become complacent, and they wouldn’t be able to react in an emergency.

Thinking that, he couldn’t help but think of the peaceful neighborhoods they had passed through, and he grew doubtful. Was there really an emergency here?

…

At noon two days later, Luke’s clone was wandering the streets of New York, accompanied by a middle-aged man whose face could only be described as beautiful. This was Ivan post-plastic surgery.

The clone was wearing a custom-made suit and was a stark contrast to Ivan in his simple work outfit; the one thing they had in common was that they drew the gazes of all the women.

The clone gave the impression of a typical “elite”; he wore black-rimmed glasses on his handsome and masculine face, and had a tall and sturdy body and a steady temperament.

On the other hand, Ivan had a dark and rakish air about him which he didn’t have to fake, which made him seem more like a wastrel.

In terms of the number of women who were attracted to them, only 30% focused on Luke, while 70% were drawn to Ivan.

But after a few more glances, many of the women turned their attention to Luke.

It wasn’t because Luke was more attractive, but because he was clearly wearing more expensive clothes.

In a place like Manhattan, most people were clearly more interested in money, regardless of gender.

The two people on the street didn’t care about these gazes. They simply walked at a leisurely pace.

Ivan raised his head and looked at the STARK sign at the top of a tall building not far away. “Heh, rich people.”

Luke said, “Actually, he’s not the richest man on Earth.”

A moment later, when Luke didn’t continue, Ivan couldn’t help but turn his head. “Why did you stop there?”

Luke chuckled. “My intelligence is very valuable.”

Although he hadn’t paid much attention to Marvel in his previous life and hadn’t watched the later movies, he had still heard of a certain royal heir to a “gold mine” who possessed assets that far exceeded Stark’s.

But he had only heard of it. He didn’t even read any summary of the movie. He only knew that it featured many African Americans.

Luke, on the other hand, hadn’t been African American in his past life, nor was he one now.

This information might be useful later, but it was of no use for the time being.

Rather than say it was of no use, it was actually more that it was a big secret.

Naturally, he wasn’t stupid enough to divulge this information to Ivan, this trial “employee”; an ordinary boss wouldn’t casually divulge information about the higher-ups to their employees.

Ivan was lucky enough to keep his life and still be able to come out and wander around like this, since what he had done in the past wasn’t too bad.

The extent of Ivan’s misdeeds here wasn’t a concern for Luke.

Letting this guy play a role in providing technical services to future “vigilantes” could be considered a way for him to redeem himself.

At that moment, they reached Grand Central Station.

Luke raised his hand and said, “Let’s have lunch first.”