Outnumbered? I'll conquer America with an unlimited number of suicide soldiers.

Chapter 20: Lure the snake out of its hole

At night, dark clouds completely obscured the sky.

Nowadays, there are no streetlights in San Francisco, and without the moonlight, it's practically pitch black.

Clark Point is located at the intersection of Broadway and Davis Street.

This is one of San Francisco's dock areas, and also one of the most chaotic places in the entire city.

The reason for this is that the pier area is under the jurisdiction of San Francisco County, while the streets belong to the city of San Francisco.

Although the bill to merge the city and county has been passed in Sacramento, it remains a no-man's-land that neither side is willing to easily delve into before it officially takes effect.

With casinos, taverns, and brothels lining the streets, this environment naturally attracted all sorts of criminals. Sailors coming ashore, fugitives, and gangsters—conflict and death were commonplace here.

Leon and his group of over fifty people split up and entered the area quietly, their minds replaying the intelligence they had noted down before setting off.

The Hounds' stronghold is located at the northernmost tip of Cape Clark, where they control several casinos, pubs, and brothels. The gang numbers around forty members, primarily composed of veterans and cowboys.

The gang is rife with white supremacist, nativist, and extreme xenophobic ideologies, and is said to have official backing.

Leon stepped over a drunkard groaning in the filth and leaned against the wall of a house not far from the lighthouse, waiting for his companions to come and join him.

This lighthouse is the only stable source of light in the dock area; its pale yellow glow barely penetrates the darkness, making it a proper landmark.

Soon, the assassins gradually gathered together.

Occasionally, passersby would witness this scene, and their expressions would instantly change, causing them to flee at a faster pace. Having lived here for so long, they could tell at a glance that it was undoubtedly another turf war between gangs.

"How did the investigation go? Did you get any useful information?" Leon asked.

"I went to the tavern and it was full of drunk people. I don't know if the Hound Gang members were drunk or if they weren't there."

"There was only a madam and a guard outside the brothel; I didn't know if anyone was inside. The moans were constant, and I couldn't go in and check each door."

"The casino is quite clear about its operations. There are five guards: two guarding the main entrance and three patrolling the entire premises to check for any disturbances or cheating."

"The numbers don't add up. They should have a regular meeting place." Leon frowned. "What do we do now? Go and search them one by one?"

"This is too troublesome. In my opinion, since we don't know where these people are, we might as well use this as a warning to lure them out."

Azrael suggested, "Send ten men to the casino, kill the guards, release the gamblers, and spread the word, making a big commotion."

"The rest of us will be scattered and lying in ambush in various streets and alleys. When the main force of the Hound Gang arrives, we will launch a coordinated attack from the inside and outside to encircle them."

"I think it's okay."

"That's a good idea."

Seeing that everyone agreed, Leon nodded as well: "Then let's do it this way. Azrael, you take the men and go. Remember, anyone who dares to resist, just kill them."

"But if everyone in the casino fights to the death, you must retreat immediately."

"Don't worry." Azrael grinned, pulling open a corner of his coat to reveal something strapped to his waist: "Just in case, I've strapped a black powder explosive pack to my body."

The fifty-odd people present were stunned for a moment, and even Zeng, who was watching remotely, was taken aback.

"Awesome."

After hearing this praise, Azrael chose nine people, turned around, and disappeared into the darkness.

The rest of the people scattered, just like before, and blended into the chaotic dock.

A few minutes later, Azrael and his party of ten appeared in front of the casino.

The casino was small, a typical two-story wooden building common in San Francisco. A kerosene lamp hung by the entrance, and below it, a wooden board was printed with pictures of dice and playing cards.

Before the two guards at the door, who were chatting and laughing in hushed tones with their arms crossed, could react, Azrael and his companion drew their revolvers.

boom!boom!

The two men, each with a gun, sent the two unlucky guys away. Then they kicked open the casino door and shouted, "Everyone, get down! Only target the Hound Gang! The rest of you, don't go looking for death!"

Eight people filed in, each holding a revolver pointed at the people on the first and second floors of the casino.

The remaining two people stayed outside to keep watch.

A flurry of panicked gasps erupted in the room. Some people immediately lay down as instructed, some glanced at the gun without flinching, and others reached for the gun at their waist.

boom! boom! boom!

Anyone who touched a weapon was shot dead before they could even draw their gun.

His precise marksmanship intimidated all the gamblers.

The four men went up to the second floor and quickly took control of the situation.

Azrael remained on the first floor, deliberately lifting his coat to reveal the bundle of explosives at his waist, and grinned: "You all cooperated very well, I'm very satisfied."

Now everyone started to get scared.

Azrael reassured everyone, "Don't worry, everyone, this is purely a personal matter. As long as you don't do anything rash, this bomb won't explode."

"Let me double-check, are there any members of the Hound Gang still at the casino?"

The gamblers on the first and second floors looked at each other, and finally their eyes fell on a person lying on the edge of the casino.

"Wow, there really were some survivors who managed to escape?"

Azrael walked over and kicked the man. "Don't worry, kid, I won't kill you for now."

"Go tell those bastards from the Hound Gang that your territory is now under the Teletubbies Gang's control."

"If you're not satisfied, come and test your skills tonight. If you're too scared, then tuck your tail between your legs and get out of the San Francisco docks forever!"

After saying that, he picked the man up like a piece of trash and threw him out the door.

After doing this, he turned to look at the crowd in the casino and said strangely, "The show's over, aren't you leaving? Waiting for me to treat you to gunpowder?"

The gamblers snapped out of their daze and, forgetting all about the money on the table, rushed out in a panic.

After everyone left, Azrael said, "Collect all the money and send one person back to the factory area. The remaining six, you and I will block the main gate and the first-floor windows with the gambling table. We'll stay here and wait for them to come to us."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The Hound Gang's hideout is a two-story villa with a garden in the dock area.

This is also their boss's home.

At this moment, apart from the people guarding the place, all the remaining members of the Hound Gang had gathered in the lobby on the first floor of the house.

"Frank, haven't I told you before that we can kill the worms, but we shouldn't make such a commotion!"

A strong man dressed in a dark double-breasted long dress and silk waistcoat stood on the second floor, looking down.

"I went to the other side of the turf in broad daylight and started shooting. Now the police are telling me to stop, the vigilance committee is warning me, and even the gang of Qingchong has come after me."

"Boss, that's just a bug!" Frank was still somewhat unconvinced.

"The problem isn't him, the problem is you firing shots recklessly in broad daylight, you idiot!"

Kenneth Rollins, the boss of the Hound Gang, slammed his cane on the floor and roared, "Do you know that the Vigilance Committee has been looking for an excuse to wipe out the gangs? They'd love for us to cause a big scene now so they can legitimately bypass the police and kill us all!"

"If you want to kill someone, drag them into an alley tonight and kill them. Kill as many as you want, I don't care. But during the day, you bunch of idiots better behave yourselves!"

After finishing his tirade, Kenneth Rollins slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, calmed himself down, and then asked, "Alright, did you guys figure out if that insect boss was riding George's horse?"

Frank said firmly, "Yes, it's George's Andalusian horse, grey and strong."

Now that things have come to this, even if it's not true, we can only say it is.

Killing the insects already angered the boss; if he were to reveal the truth—that he hadn't found anything and had slunk away—he would probably be beaten to death by the boss.

Frank's companions behind him exchanged glances and tacitly agreed with his statement.

"But boss, that Qingchong has hired a lot of white men as guards, at least thirty of them. It won't be easy to just charge in and fight them."

Kenneth Rollins slowly closed his eyes, as if mourning his deceased brother.

He then came down from the second floor, his tone cold: "Then we won't use a direct assault, we'll use a trap."

"Don't forget, we have the American Party congressmen behind us. Let the police department step in and, under the guise of assisting in the murder investigation, invite that scavenger boss to the police station for a chat."

He grinned maliciously. "Once they're in the police station, how they get out, whether they're dead or alive, is entirely up to us. We can even take over his weapons factory while we're at it!"

"The boss is brilliant!"

"The boss really knows how to do things!"

Just as the members of the Hound Gang were flattering Kenneth Rollins, a hurried and panicked voice rang out from outside the door.

"Boss, something terrible has happened! Our casino has been vandalized! All the brothers are dead, only I survived."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a man hurriedly pushed open the door and entered. He looked at the dozens of companions who were turning to look at him, and then embellished his account of what had happened in the casino.

"The Teletubbies gang? Is there such a gang in San Francisco?" someone wondered.

"Who cares what his name is? He's definitely coming for us."

A glint of malice flashed in Frank's eyes as he said, "Boss, let me take the brothers! If I don't chop those ten bastards into mincemeat, I, Frank, will change my name!"

"Everyone, grab your guns and axes." Kenneth Rollins' expression was grim. "I want to see those ten bastards' corpses hanging on the docks tomorrow morning!"

At the same time, the figure of the person who had been following them back outside the door quietly disappeared into the darkness and went back to call for help.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Three minutes later, Frank took the lead, leading more than twenty menacing gang members out of the villa garden and heading towards the casino.

Filled with rage, they were completely oblivious to the eyes lurking in the darkness as they passed by. And as time went on, the number of eyes watching them grew ever larger.

"Damn it, why do I keep feeling like someone's watching us?" one of the Hound Gang's thugs asked, looking around in confusion.

"Hey Bob, are you scared? Using this excuse to cover up your cowardice?" the man next to him laughed.

"Get lost. I've scalped more Native Americans back in the day than you've slept with prostitutes."

Old Bob cursed, his brow furrowed. But no matter how hard he searched, he found no trace of it.

"Shut up, we're almost there!" Frank growled from the front, gesturing with his hand.

Everyone held their breath, moved quietly, and put their fingers on the trigger, flanking the desolate casino building.

The casino doors were tightly shut, and the interior was quiet, as if it were deserted.

"laugh!"

"Did you hear anything? It sounds like something's been set on fire?" Old Bob frowned and asked in a low voice.

"Really? I didn't hear anything." Someone listened intently, but only heard a cacophony of noise.

The Hound Gang member who ran back to report suddenly remembered something, his face turning pale: "I remember now, those guys had explosives!"

What the hell?!

Why didn't you tell me something this important earlier, you son of a bitch?

The twenty-odd members of the hound gang were stunned for a moment, then forgot all about cursing and ran away without hesitation.

But it was too late.

A dark, sparkling package was thrown from a broken window on the second floor of the casino, arcing through the air before exploding in mid-air above the crowd.

boom!!!

A deafening roar erupted, a gale carrying intense heat and flames, and a blast of hot air knocked everyone near the blast point to the ground.

boom! boom! boom!

Almost instantly after the explosion, gun barrels shot out from all the windows on the second floor of the casino, raining down deadly and dense bullets upon the chaotic crowd.

Several hounds, stunned on the ground, hadn't even gotten up when bursts of blood erupted from their bodies, and they would never rise again.

"Find cover! Find cover!"

Frank was lucky enough to be thrown off balance by the blast wave. He scrambled to his feet behind a sturdy mooring post and roared at the top of his lungs.

The survivors snapped out of their daze and quickly rushed to cover themselves with pillars and crates on the street before raising their guns to return fire at the second floor.

The revolver and rifle fired alternately, the bullets hitting the wooden planks with a muffled thud, scattering sawdust everywhere.

"No, the other side has cover on the second floor. We're at a huge disadvantage if we keep fighting like this."

Frank ducked back into the pillar, quickly replaced the empty magazine, and shouted towards a nearby bunker, "Old Bob! Take a few men, flank around to the side, and try attacking through the casino's back door and windows!"

"it is good."

Bob took a deep breath and waved to his several shaken companions nearby: "You! You! And you two! Come with me!"

The five men, crouching low and using the shadows of the buildings, quickly disengaged from the main battleground, preparing to take a large detour and circle around to the back of the casino from the other side of the street.

But they had only taken a few steps back when they suddenly stopped, witnessing a scene that felt like falling into an ice cave.

Ahead, at the street corners they had come from, dozens of people had gathered, their dark gun barrels pointed in their direction.