Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 159: Ch.158 Grand Opening

Chapter 159: Ch.158 Grand Opening

As Su Ming's business gradually settled into a smooth operation, rumors began to spread through the streets and alleys of Manhattan, New York. People who were acquainted would huddle together, whispering secretively.

"Recently, I found a great spot, introduced to me by my aunt's cousin's son's cousin. That place... it's something else," a fat middle-aged man licked his lips as if savoring a memory, while his neighbor, a thin man, instantly caught on. He could smell the faint scent of alcohol on the fat man.

Both men were trimming their lawns, speaking over the fence that separated their yards. Children rode bicycles down the street, shouting and playing. A blue postal truck was parked at the corner.

Someone's pet dog passed by the small gate of a nearby yard, turning its black eyes toward them before dashing away.

The thin man immediately grew excited. Not only were they neighbors, but also drinking buddies. Unfortunately, since Prohibition began, the stash of alcohol at home had run dry years ago. "Really? My God, you're talking about a place that sells booze?"

The fat man hooked his arm around the thin man's neck, nearly pulling him over the fence, while covering his mouth and looking around to ensure no one else was listening.

"Shh, keep it down. It's a members-only place, and every person's sponsor has to be registered. If you blow our cover, I'll be in just as much trouble. People who run that business—well, let's just say the mob would have us all sleeping with the fishes in the Hudson River."

The thin man struggled to free himself from the fat man's grip, gasping for air like a fish out of water. "Okay, okay, I get it. I swear on my life I'll keep the secret. Can you take me there?"

The fat man smiled, glancing through the window at his wife, who was knitting a sweater. "Of course, we're best friends, but..."

He patted his stomach, smiling without saying more.

The thin man sighed, realizing his friend had finally gotten what he wanted.

"Fine, I'll give you my family's secret apple pie recipe. You've been after it for decades, haven't you? I'll write it down for you."

"Ha ha, that works. Tonight at midnight, we'll meet secretly in the garden. We're not stopping until we're drunk."

Su Ming's bar had been open for two months, and he was beginning to feel like he was running a multi-level marketing scheme. He was using word-of-mouth to promote the bar, selling it like health supplements.

Gin, it turned out, had quite the head for business. He had instinctively come up with a referral membership system similar to those used in later times, which not only made the business seem more exclusive but also significantly enhanced its secrecy.

But since even this system wasn't foolproof, Su Ming decided to go all-in and truly adopt the methods of a mobster. He took Gin along to pay a visit to the police chief, as well as various council members and officials.

Of course, these visits took place at night. Su Ming donned his full battle gear, while Gin carried a small box that Su Ming called the "Skywalker Gift Pack."

Inside were gift sets of whiskey, vodka, rum, and tequila, along with a small stack of cash.

Scaling walls, breaking doors, knocking out guards and irrelevant people—then offering these officials a choice.

They could either become friends, receiving a box of fine liquor every year on Christmas, Independence Day, and other holidays, or they could become enemies. In which case, they wouldn't have much of a future. The Night Blade and Sword of Ares would turn them into mincemeat as a warning to others.

Corrupt officials, like gangsters, were never in short supply, and it was better to buy them off than to try to kill them all. If not hired for a job, Su Ming preferred not to kill people—just satisfying his bloodlust occasionally by eliminating a few particularly vile targets.

Su Ming worked quickly, and within just a few nights, he and Gin had visited every influential figure in New York.

Except for a few staunch Puritans who refused to cooperate (whom Su Ming then tied to stones and tossed into New York Harbor), most of the council members and judges accepted the fine liquor.

New York was the most prosperous place in America, and it also harbored the strongest resistance to Prohibition. Now that the mob had shown up with alcohol and weapons, the choice was clear.

Live or die.

These people weren't fools. They had already heard from the outside just how terrifying the man in the black and yellow armor really was—a man capable of sending entire families, along with their bodyguards and pets, to sleep with the fishes.

And he did it so cleanly that not a trace was left behind. The law was powerless, and they couldn't outmaneuver him in the underworld. The best option was to make friends.

Thus, Su Ming quickly forged "friendships" with these clever individuals, securing a certain level of protection.

As long as he didn't flood the streets with liquor, neither the police nor the inspectors would bother him.

With the officials taken care of, Su Ming then dealt with the other local gangs, unknowingly securing a sizable territory for himself.

Since he had nothing better to do, he decided to let Gin handle it all. Gin was indeed very capable, and he had the typical ruthlessness of an Irishman in that era.

He didn't resemble the assassin Gin from another story, but rather a dark version of Jarvis.

Su Ming didn't collect protection money; he was simply interested in maintaining underground order. On his turf, drug trafficking and human trafficking were strictly prohibited, which surprisingly gave him a positive image among the public.

Ordinary people had no idea who he was, but his black and yellow armor and the name "Deathstroke" had already gained some notoriety during this period.

Su Ming put Gin in charge of all the business affairs while he enjoyed a more leisurely life. Most of the time, he sat in a corner of his bar, sipping his own liquor and listening to the jazz tunes played by the pianist, enjoying a life of relaxation.

When necessary, he would go out hunting or fishing, living like a man in retirement.

On the inside wall of the bar, there was a sign with the name of the bar, which Su Ming, in a fit of dark humor, had named "The Peace Hotel."

No one found the name strange, because bars often had odd names. Compared to names like "Dead Horse," "Dead Man's Head," or "King of Pigskin," "The Peace Hotel" actually seemed quite normal.

"Boss."

Gin appeared by his side, quietly reporting in. Two months had passed, and he was still the same skinny guy with glasses, but it was clear that people were beginning to fear him.

As the number two man in a major gang, he was now quite intimidating.

But he knew that his boss was the real power.

Even though Su Ming appeared harmless at the moment, joking and laughing with the bar's patrons, Gin knew that if Su Ming got serious, he could kill the President in the White House if he wanted to.

Su Ming didn't know what Gin was thinking, but if he did, he would probably spit his drink in Gin's face.

Only a madman would want to kill Hoover. Without him, that bumbling fool, appointing a bunch of idiots to manage the country, how could America experience the stock market crash and the Great Depression? And more importantly, how could Su Ming get rich quick if not for the crash?

It was still only 1925, but the stock market had already shown signs of taking off. Over the past two months, Su Ming had used his earnings to both expand production capacity and start investing in the stock market, purchasing shares in General Motors and some oil companies.

The stock market would continue to soar like a bull on steroids for the next few years, right up until October 29, 1929—Black Tuesday.

As long as he cashed out before then, selling off his stocks and shorting the market, Su Ming's goal of establishing a large arms company would be instantly achieved.

By that time, he could even buy out several companies. The stock market crash would trigger the Great Depression and mass unemployment. During the Depression, the market value of Colt, the company that "makes all men equal," would plummet, and it could be bought for just a few million dollars. Remington, which had been making guns since the 1700s, would be in a similar situation.

General Motors stock was currently priced at $10 a share, but at its peak just before Black Tuesday, it would be worth $262. If Su Ming leveraged his money by taking out loans from the bank and using margin trading, he could achieve returns of up to a thousand times his initial investment over the next few years.

After the crash, shorting the market would bring in another huge windfall.

It was an astonishing figure, a clear advantage for someone with knowledge of the future.

Without knowing the exact timing of the crash, no one would dare play the market like this. Historically, most people who made money eventually lost everything, with many left penniless. After Black Tuesday, even jumping out of a window in New York required waiting in line.

The newspapers on Wednesday reported, "New York rained men today."

But there were smart people too, like Joseph Kennedy, the father of President John F. Kennedy. He managed to pull out of the market just before the crash.

His famous saying was, "When even the shoeshine boy is talking stocks, it's time to get out."

He made tens of millions of dollars during the market boom, money that helped his son eventually become President of the United States.

Like a fisherman, Su Ming was calmly waiting.