The American TV series "Four-Round Boxing Champion Starts with Shameless"

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The whole process was clean and efficient, taking no more than thirty seconds.

The two girls didn't even have a chance to put up any effective resistance before they were subdued, anesthetized, put in sacks, and quickly carried into the black truck.

The car door closed, the engine started, and the vehicle sped away from the scene, disappearing into the New York night as if nothing had ever happened.

Silence returned to the street, leaving only Caroline's cheap earring lying on the ground, reflecting faintly in the dim light.

·······

In early spring in New York, the cold wind was still biting.

Frankie Lee stood at the window of his second-floor office at a Chinese restaurant in Brooklyn, gazing at the view outside.

As Victor Lee's public spokesperson and front man, he was annoyed.

The old-fashioned telephone on the table suddenly rang with a piercing sound.

Frankie frowned. Only a very few people knew the number for this phone, and it usually didn't ring for good news.

He picked up the receiver, his voice hoarse.

A voice with a heavy Italian accent came through the phone: "Frankie Lee? We have some mutual friends who need your help. Two ladies—Max and Caroline. Get them home safely and have five hundred thousand in cash ready. We'll let you know."

Franky's heart sank, but his voice remained calm: "Let me talk to them."

There was a rustling sound on the other end of the phone, followed by Max's silence.

A curse came from inside: "I'm sorry..."

Then came Caroline's visibly trembling voice: "Frankie, they took us away near Seventh Avenue in a black van, and it smelled fishy..."

The phone was snatched away abruptly, and an Italian accent rang out again: "24 hours. Don't call the police. Otherwise, they'll disappear forever."

The call was disconnected, leaving only a busy tone.

Franky slowly lowered the receiver, his fingers turning white from the force.

All he could say was that the person he hired had made a mistake once again—Fuck Maazel!

These Italian idiots don't know two things:

First, Max, whom they kidnapped, is Victor Lee's current sweetheart, while Caroline is Victor's ex-girlfriend;

Secondly, they were unaware that Victor Lee was Frankie's cousin and boss—the most powerful Asian gang leader in Chicago, a gang leader who could become a congressman.

"The local gangs are so rude!!!"

Franky muttered to himself, a cold glint in his eyes.

In the world of gangsters, there are some lines that cannot be crossed.

He quickly picked up another encrypted phone and pressed the speed dial button.

······

Chicago, top floor of the SkyCity Tower.

Victor Lee was chairing a business meeting when his personal phone rang with a specific ringtone, and he immediately raised his hand to interrupt his subordinate who was speaking.

The ringing of the bell meant only one thing—his cousin Frankie in New York had an emergency.

Viktor answered the phone—thirty seconds later, his face turned from calm to ashen: "Idiot! A museum-worthy idiot!!!"

The air in the conference room froze instantly, and everyone held their breath.

They had never seen their boss so openly angry—Victor was usually as calm and composed as an iceberg.

"Are you sure it's Italian?"

Viktor's voice was so cold it could freeze your skin. "Okay, I know what to do."

He hung up the phone and remained silent for a moment.

Then he looked up at everyone in the conference room, his voice calm yet filled with murderous intent: "Meeting adjourned. Contact the head of security immediately. Some people in New York don't know the rules; we need to go on vacation."

Within an hour, four hundred elite security personnel from the SkyCity Security Department in Chicago were ready to go.

These people are ostensibly employees of a private security company, but in reality, they are support forces under Victor's command.

They were all dressed in black hooded vests over bulletproof vests, carrying the "Chicago Typewriter"—a modernized version of the Thompson submachine gun—as well as various other equipment.

A convoy of one hundred modified black SUVs drove in a grand procession toward New York, splitting into thirty or forty groups along the way before entering the city.

Victor stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, overlooking the Chicago skyline.

Max Black has taken a special place in his heart.

And now, those ignorant Italians dare to touch her.

"A full-scale attack."

He muttered to himself, a cold glint in his eyes: "Rivers of blood."

·······

New York, Brooklyn's dock district.

Max and Caroline were locked in a damp warehouse room.

The air was thick with the smell of fish and mildew, and the only light came from a dirty little window high up.

"I knew nothing good would come of being with you,"

Max muttered, trying to pry open the plastic cable ties on her wrist with her fingernails. "Rich girls always have trouble with magnets."

“My father lives in prison and doesn’t have a single penny.”

Caroline ignored her sarcasm and instead focused on observing her surroundings: "This looks like a fishery warehouse. I can hear seagulls calling and ship horns, so we're probably still in the Brooklyn dock area."

“Excellent, Miss Holmes. Once we’ve escaped, you must put this on your resume—'Skilled at locating kidnappers'.”

Max said sarcastically, but his hands didn't stop moving.

Footsteps sounded outside the door, and two burly Italian men opened the door and came in.

The older one glanced at them and said, "Don't waste your energy, beauties. Stay put, and we'll let you go once we get the money."

"Oh, is it so?"

Max raised an eyebrow. "Then you'd better make sure the ransom you're demanding is enough to cover my therapy fees. Because I guarantee that the treatment I'll need after I get out won't be a small amount."

The younger guard couldn't help but laugh, but immediately straightened his face after being glared at by the older guard.

“Keep an eye on them, Tony. I’m going to call Frankie Lee.”

The older man finished speaking and left.

The young guard named Tony leaned against the door frame, occasionally peeking at the two women.

Max decided to take advantage of this opportunity.

"Hey, handsome,"

She said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Could you get me a glass of water? I'm dying of thirst."

Tony hesitated for a moment, then picked up a bottle of water and came over.

As he bent down to feed Max water, she suddenly slammed her head into his nose. Tony screamed and fell backward, blood gushing from his nostrils.

"Damn bitch!"

He roared as he got up, raising his fist to strike.

"You dare touch her!"

Caroline said coldly, “I’ll remember your face. My father is Martin Channing, and the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office is very interested in him. Do you think they might be interested in the information you provide?”

Tony froze, his fist hanging in mid-air. He clearly knew Caroline's father's name—a former New York financial tycoon who, though bankrupt and imprisoned, still wielded considerable influence.

"you are vicious."

He muttered something as he retreated to the doorway, covering his bleeding nose.

Max gave Caroline a grateful glance, and Caroline nodded in response.

In times of crisis, their tacit understanding needs no words.

······

Frankie Lee’s temporary room had now been converted into a temporary command center.

The walls were covered with maps of New York and distribution charts of gang families, and various communication devices were laid out on the table.

"The person has arrived in New York,"

Franky said to the old man beside him, "Four hundred elite troops, all armed to the teeth."

Mr. Liu—an informal leader in New York's Chinese community—slowly nodded: "The Italians have crossed the line. But their choice to kidnap these two ladies is no accident. I think it's a probing move by the Salvador family to see how Victor Lee will react."

Frankie frowned: "El Salvador? I thought they were already weakened."

"On the surface, yes,"

Mr. Liu shook his head. "But Salvador's son, Antonio Jr., recently returned from Sicily and is trying to revive the family's glory. He probably thinks it's a good idea to provoke the newly emerging Asian gangs in Chicago."

At that moment, a middle-aged white man in a well-tailored suit walked into the basement.

He had a unique demeanor, unlike either a gangster or an ordinary businessman.

"Brian, thank you for coming."

Frankie went up and shook hands with him.

Brian is ostensibly an FBI consultant, but in reality, he is a secret agent carrying out special missions for the CIA.

He and Frankie had several experiences of "mutually beneficial cooperation".

"I heard you have a friend you need to find?"

Brian got straight to the point, "I have a day off. I have to go back to Langley to report afterward."

Frankie briefly explained the situation, and Brian listened and nodded: "Italians, fishery warehouse, Brooklyn dock area. Not a large area, give me some time."

“I can scan using the Department of Energy’s thermal monitoring satellites,”

Brian pulled out a large box and, while demonstrating, explained, "Fisheries warehouses usually have heat signals generated by refrigeration equipment, but if there's an unusual gathering of people inside..."

His fingers flew across the keyboard. "Found it. Three suspicious locations. Now cross-reference them to the nearest areas with high cell phone signal density..."