One Thousand Two Hundred and Thirty-Seven Chapters the Troubles of the New Director, the New Employees Let Go
Misty, a young African-American woman, drove a car and pouted: "Boss, we recently inspected the area at random. Except for a few thieves who were caught, all other weed sellers, robbers, and forced arrivals were all invisible. I think there is a problem here."
The middle-aged white man raised his eyebrows: "What's the problem?"
Misty: "This is the Clinton District, the legendary Hell's Kitchen. There were several major murders at the end of last year. What is this year? Except the house is still so dilapidated, and the law and order is not worse than the Upper West Side. Is this reasonable?"
The middle-aged white man smiled: "So what? Do you think it should continue to be so chaotic?"
Misty shook his head: "Of course not, but... It seems that the improvement of the security here has nothing to do with us. Boss, before you came, you gave me a pep talk and said that you have to risk your life to be effective. Now..."
The middle-aged white man scratched his head unconsciously.
He has always been very stable, but at this moment, he is still full of embarrassment when faced with this heart-wrenching question from his hardcore subordinates.
If I had known earlier, I wouldn't have said that the situation was so serious, so that the fighting spirit of my generals had nowhere to vent, so I could only pull her out to patrol the streets. He sighed inwardly.
"Haven't you heard the wind?" He finally said: "There are too many superheroes here. Not only the Clinton district, but the whole Manhattan has become unsuitable for gang members. Otherwise, it would not be multiple fractures. Even with a concussion, it costs money to go to the doctor."
Hearing this, Misty finally found the target of venting: "But isn't this our job? Why let these "Vigilantes" do it? They have finished everything, then we have to do the 15th Bureau. Well?"
The middle-aged white man lowered the back of his chair a little to make his tired old waist more comfortable: "It's not them, do you think we can do our best to clean up those worms in the fifteenth bureau? I'm afraid we have been shot and demonstrated several times by gang members. already."
Misty snorted: "I'm not afraid."
Middle-aged white man: "Hey, I have a wife and daughter, I'm afraid I can do it?"
Misty doesn't listen to this kind of nonsense. If his boss is afraid, why should he take over the position of the director of the 15th Bureau, clean up the black police forcefully, and rectify the interior?
But maybe he is still afraid, no one wants his relatives to be attacked by gang members.
But now the gangs are being cleaned out by one superhero after another,
The black police in the fifteenth sub-bureau are already water without a source.
There are no black gangs who are embarrassed, and many of these black police's methods cannot be used.
At least it's hard for them to call the shooting threat a gang, because everyone knows that the gangs in the Clinton area have been beaten up and left the area.
There are no gang members who interfere with the line of sight. As long as these black policemen dare to shoot black guns, they will be targeted immediately.
The director, who has the full support of the headquarters, will definitely take the opportunity to win one or two local factions as a breakthrough.
At that time, these people had no chance to resign and had to go to prison together.
Thinking of this, the head of the fifteenth branch in the car, who had only been in office for a few months, also smiled wryly.
Do this, it's not a good thing if it's too difficult.
But it doesn't feel good to be done by others before you do anything.
Like him and Misty, they originally landed in the 15th Bureau with considerable "courage", preparing to get through this dungeon of hell.
As a result, they thought it was a target iron plate before they punched, and only after they dropped the punch did they realize that what they were facing was just a black-hearted rotten cotton.
After being silent for a while, he said, "No matter what the future is, the 15th Bureau will be taken back by us. Even if these superheroes don't appear in the future, we will have more power to maintain the order of the Clinton District, no ?"
Misty was dumbfounded for a moment, and thumped the steering wheel a little annoyed: "But I'm not reconciled. I'm not from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, why do I spend my energy on the work of investigating illegal police every day."
The middle-aged white man didn't say much.
Everyone understands the truth. It is a good thing that his subordinates are enthusiastic about the work, and he will not attack her.
It’s better to hold back a lot of energy. Once a person is satisfied, it is easy to slack off, and in case of an emergency, they will not be able to respond.
Thinking like this, he couldn't help but think of the peaceful and quiet neighborhoods he came from, and became suspicious: Is there really an emergency here?
...
At noon two days later, the clone was walking on the streets of New York with Big Ben's face, and beside him was a middle-aged man whose face could only be described as beautiful. He was Ivan after plastic surgery.
The doppelganger wearing a hand-made custom suit is in stark contrast to Ivan wearing a simple tooling. What they have in common is that they both attract the attention of women.
Big Ben's face is that kind of "very masculine handsome, with black-rimmed glasses, a burly and straight body, a calm temperament, a typical "elite" image.
Ivan's face is more handsome, and his decadent and gloomy temperament without disguise makes him more like a prodigal son.
In terms of the number of women attracted by the two, Luke only accounted for 30%, but Ivan accounted for 70%.
But many women turn their attention to Luke after taking a few more glances.
Not because Luke is more attractive, but because his clothes are obviously richer.
In places like Manhattan, most people, men and women alike, are significantly more interested in money.
The two people walking on the street didn't care about these gazes, and just walked forward leisurely.
Ivan raised his eyes and landed on the STARK sign on the top of the tall building not far away: "Hehe, rich people."
Luke: "Actually, the richest second generation on earth is not him."
Ivan snorted, and after a while, he didn't hear the answer behind him, so he couldn't help but turn his head: "Why didn't you say it?"
Luke chuckled: "My information is very valuable."
Although he didn't pay much attention to Marvel in the last life, and he didn't watch the following movies, he still heard a little about the name of the second generation of Wang, who was sitting on a "gold" mine and whose assets far exceeded Stark's.
But I just heard about it. He didn't even read the introduction of the movie, but just watched a lot of Chinese people complain that the movie was made for African Americans.
And Luke has never been African-American in his life.
This information is useful, but it will hardly come in handy in a short period of time.
It's useless, it's actually a big secret.
Naturally, he would not be foolish enough to tell Ivan this probationary "employee" casually. No normal boss in the world would casually disclose high-level news to his employees.
Moreover, Ivan, who belongs to "life" to check, can still play so leisurely, thanks to the fact that the bad things he did before are not serious.
Mildly evil people belong to Luke, who can be managed or ignored.
Let this guy play a role and provide technical services for the "Vigilantes" in the future, which can be regarded as atonement.
At this time, the two walked to the central station.
Luke raised his hand and gestured: "Let's have lunch first."
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