Chapter 5: Chapter 4: God Blesses You During the Day, Sends You to Meet Him at Night
The door was violently pushed open, and a group of ruffians with dirty dreadlocks barged in.
Upon seeing the young Cohen, the leader with gold teeth was slightly startled. "Where's the old priest?"
Cohen glanced at them. Four of the five were Black Iron-level hunters.
They were definitely not friendly!
He shook his head. "Father Emma has gone on a pilgrimage to the Vatican. He won't be back for a while. Do you need something from him?"
Gold Tooth frowned. "Who are you?"
"I'm the new acting priest. I'll be in charge here for the next three months. Who might you be?"
Gold Tooth swayed his dreadlocks. "Kid, we're the Flame Gang. Didn't the old priest tell you that the church needs to pay protection fees?"
Cohen was taken aback and had a bad feeling. He shook his head. "He never mentioned it!"
Gold Tooth jabbed his finger into Cohen's chest. "Well, let me tell you. This whole area is peaceful because our Flame Gang keeps it that way. We charge a little protection fee—nothing too outrageous, right?"
Cohen hesitated, pondering the words "peace and quiet." Could that really be associated with Hell's Kitchen?
He pointed behind him to the cross. "But I heard that this place is protected by Him?"
"You just don't understand." Gold Tooth shook his head smugly. "He deals with demons, I deal with scum. We each handle our own business. Without us, even Jesus couldn't protect this church!"
Cohen scratched his head, suddenly remembering the envelope he had.
He cautiously asked, "How much is the protection fee each month?"
"$1,500!"
Old dog!
Cohen cursed in his heart. Now he understood why the previous priest ran away so quickly!
System, are you asleep? How come you didn't warn me that this old man was prey?
"Uh... fellas, I truly didn't know about this, and I don't have cash on me right now. How about you come back tomorrow, no, the day after tomorrow?"
Gold Tooth smiled but drew a gun from his waist. "What do you think?"
Cohen gritted his teeth. Although he was a martial arts master, fighting against five armed thugs was too risky.
The enemy might not have good aim, but even a stray bullet could be deadly.
Patience.
He pulled out the envelope and flashed a smile. "Alright, I suddenly remembered I happen to have $1,500 in cash. Please accept it!"
Gold Tooth grinned, putting the gun away and patting Cohen on the shoulder. "That's more like it. No one who's ever gone against the Flame Gang has had a good end. Kid, I like you!"
Cohen smiled. "Now that you've collected the protection fee, where should I find you if I run into trouble?"
Gold Tooth waved casually. "Just head to the Flame Auto Shop at the end of the street."
"Take care. May God bless you all!"
Cohen politely escorted them out.
The five thugs laughed and joked as they walked out of the church. One of them laughed, "Hey, I knew that yellow monkey wouldn't resist. I had my gun loaded—if he made a move, I'd have taken him down!"
"Haha, we should come back more often..."
A younger man added, "Did you see his face? Clearly angry, but he had to force a smile—just like those lower class people!"
Behind them, Cohen's anger flared.
Lower class people? Your whole family are Lower class people!
(T/L- Here lower class people means those who have no power and are at lower standing then the gang members. The gang think that since the people fear them and do as they say, then the gang is on higher in the hierarchy.)
Damn it! I was going to let you go since you weren't marked as prey by the system. But now you're done for. You're my prey now!
I swear, I will send you to Jesus!
Cohen took a deep breath, closed the door, and bid farewell to his guests.
---
The so-called Flame Gang was a small street gang with only a dozen members, at the lowest rung of the underworld.
They didn't have any strict rules or hierarchy and could only do the most basic tasks like stealing, robbing, scamming, and small-time drug dealing. Most members were young punks from the nearby blocks.
They couldn't be compared to large criminal organizations like the Mafia, Yakuza, or Triads of the Hell's Kitchen.
But they were just as dangerous because these brainless punks were truly reckless with their lives!
Late at night, five drunken figures emerged from the auto shop.
They hadn't gone far when an egg fell from the sky, landing squarely on Gold Tooth's head.
He stood there stunned as his companions burst into laughter at the sight of the yolk on his face.
"Stop laughing! Shut up!"
Angry and embarrassed, Gold Tooth began searching for the culprit.
Thud thud!
Two more eggs hit their mark. Three of them were now hit.
They soon spotted a figure in black clothing wearing a red demon mask, standing at the alley across the street.
The figure didn't rush but instead gave them the middle finger before disappearing into the shadows.
Furious, the group charged forward without thinking, rushing headlong into the alley.
A few steps in, one of them felt a sharp pain underfoot and fell.
Another stepped wrong, getting his foot caught in a drain cover, his mood sinking along with his foot.
Someone else tripped and smashed their head on the ground, blood instantly pouring out.
Before the last two could react, they were each struck by two heavy blows.
One by one, the injured were knocked unconscious.
In the darkness, a cold voice said, "Hmph, I'm merely a martial arts master. Care to teach me?"
A few minutes later, an old pickup truck emerged from the alley, driving off into the distance.
---
In the garden of Emma Church, under the pale moonlight, Cohen lifted the tarp covering the back of the pickup. Five pairs of terrified eyes stared back at him.
They were gagged and bound tightly.
Anyone who frequently kills knows that the hard part isn't the killing—it's dealing with the bodies afterward.
Cohen measured their sizes, comparing them to the hole he'd dug earlier in the garden, realizing it wasn't big enough.
With a sigh, he grabbed the shovel and kept digging.
From the back of the truck, the five gang members watched in terror, their bodies trembling uncontrollably, tears streaming down their faces, and their eyes pleading for mercy.
Cohen did this on purpose.
After completing the task last night, he had been pondering several aspects of the mission.
Ascension, manner of death, freshness, final emotions, and emotion level.
He didn't know what ascension was, and the name didn't give much away.
But the other four aspects were easier to analyze.
The manner of death seemed to correspond to freshness—suggesting that the system encouraged him to use different methods to "punish" his prey.
The final emotions corresponded to emotion level, meaning the system wanted him to elicit intense emotions from his prey at the moment of death. Fear was just one of those emotions.
Now, he was sure that the emotional levels of these prey had reached a five-star rating.
Next up was the manner of death: burial alive.
He tossed each of the five into the pit.
The last one was the gang member who hadn't yet been marked as prey by the system.
But Cohen knew that didn't mean he was a good person.
It just meant he was a newcomer, and his sins hadn't accumulated enough yet.
Cohen patted his face. "I didn't plan on killing you, but you had to call me a Yellow person. Do you know what that means to an Asian person?
That's beyond insulting!
Go down and have a chat with the King of Hell. Maybe in your next life, you'll be luckier.
Of course, you're welcome to come seek revenge in about, eighteen years—if you think you can beat me."
Hearing Cohen's words, the man struggled violently, but he was tied too tightly. He squirmed like a maggot in a pit but couldn't escape his fate.
The five of them lay in the pit. Before burying them, Cohen smiled at Gold Tooth. "See, I told you this place is protected by God, but you insisted on competing with Him. Now I must fulfill His will and send you to meet Him.
Remember to say hi for me. Maybe He'll owe me a favor in heaven."
Rustle, rustle...
Just as Cohen had shoveled two scoops of dirt, he heard a knock at the church door.
Bang bang!
He paused. Had he been discovered?
Impossible!
Leaving the shovel in the ground, he quietly went upstairs and peeked down from the balcony.
Fortunately, there were no police cars, just a tall, thin figure knocking on the door and wailing, "Open up, Father... open up..."
Cohen wanted to ignore him, but if he kept yelling, he would attract attention sooner or later.
After making sure the people in the pit couldn't escape, he opened the front door.
A scruffy, bearded man reeking of alcohol stumbled in. Cohen caught him just as he vomited all over the floor.
Cohen nearly wanted to kill him then and there. The pit was ready, after all—why not toss him in?
Sensing Cohen's murderous intent, the man suddenly burst into tears. "Father... I'm suffering!
I can't go home, I can't see my wife... Father, can God help me?"
Cohen rolled his eyes. How convenient, I was just about to send people to meet God—want to send a message? Or would you rather go see Him yourself?
(End of chapter)
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