Brazil: Criminal Empire - Chapter 115: Orphans from the Favela (Patreon)

Rock was examining his HK417 when one of his men came to call him outside again.

When he reached the entrance to the stronghold, which was now protected by sandbags, he saw more than thirty young men standing outside.

There were noticeably fewer of them than before.

It seemed the conditions Rock had laid out earlier had worked. Those who did not qualify or lacked enough determination had left on their own.

“Sir, we’re finished. We took all the bodies to the garbage pit, poured gasoline over them, and burned them.”

Once again, Rodrigues, with his white-tipped dreadlocks, spoke for the group.

Kids who grew up in the favela were accustomed to death.

Burning bodies was still a gruesome job, but with 500 reais on the line and the chance to join those formidable gunmen, they had gritted their teeth and done it.

Rodrigues’s previously clean face and body were now covered in soot, and his clothes were stained with dirt and grime.

Maybe they had rushed straight over to report after finishing the job.

Or perhaps they deliberately wanted Rock to see how hard they had worked.

Either way, every young man looked much like Rodrigues, covered in dust and stains that proved they had taken Rock’s orders seriously.

“Give them the money.”

Rock pulled out a stack of cash and handed it to Death No. 2, who was standing guard behind the sandbags, telling him to distribute it among the young men.

Five hundred reais each did not sound like much.

But for some of them, it was what they might earn in an entire week.

Several of the young men’s eyes lit up as they held the few bills in their hands.

Once Death No. 2 had paid everyone, Rock clapped his hands.

“The job’s done. You can all go home now.”

With that, Rock turned and started walking back into the stronghold.

“Sir, please take us in! We want to work for you!”

A voice called out loudly behind him.

It was Rodrigues.

Rock turned around.

There had been more than thirty of them when they arrived.

After receiving their money and being told to go home, several more had turned around and left.

Apparently, the promise of 500 reais had been the only thing keeping some of them there.

Only a little over twenty remained.

Rodrigues, however, looked more determined than ever.

“Are you sure you’ve thought this through? Crazy Train’s retaliation could be brutal.”

Rock walked down the steps and looked down at Rodrigues.

“Yes, sir. We’ve made up our minds.”

Rodrigues answered loudly, then added, “Sir, quite a few of us are orphans.”

Hearing that, Rock finally nodded.

Many homeless orphans struggled to survive in Brazil’s favelas.

Their lives resembled the harsh backstories of webnovel protagonists. They begged, robbed, stole, and did whatever they could to stay alive.

What they did not know was that somewhere in this world existed something called a System, something capable of completely changing a person’s fate.

Unfortunately for them, not one had ever possessed or even seen a System.

As they grew up, countless children their own age disappeared from around them.

In Brazil’s favelas, many young people killed by violence were between twelve and seventeen years old.

Simply surviving long enough to reach adulthood was no easy feat.

Young men like these were a natural source of recruits for gangs throughout Brazil’s favelas.

But that did not mean every gang wanted them.

Many still struggled on the edge of survival.

Most of those willing to remain in front of Rock now were young men with little left to lose.

They had never had the opportunity to attend school, which meant education had never offered them a realistic path toward changing their lives.

Then Rock and his men, a group of gunmen who had been complete strangers to them, arrived and wiped out the Crazy Train members who controlled the area.

Rodrigues and the other young men who spent their days wandering around the favela saw an opportunity.

So they immediately came looking for a chance to join them.

There were simply too many young men like this in the favelas.

Before today, Crazy Train had never even considered them worth noticing.

Sometimes opportunities favored the people willing to step forward first.

After thinking for a moment, Rock decided to accept them.

Anyone who remained after all his questions and tests had at least shown a certain amount of determination.

Besides, given the speed and suddenness of Rock’s attack, the chances that Crazy Train had managed to plant an infiltrator among them were extremely low.

They simply had not had the time or opportunity to arrange something like that.

Rock pulled out another 2,000 reais and tapped the bills against his palm.

“Which of you wants to run an errand? Go buy some food for yourselves.”

“Sir, I have a motorcycle.”

A Black young man near the front immediately raised his hand.

Several others quickly followed.

Rock gestured toward the first one.

“What’s your name?”

“Maia, sir. My name is Maia.”

Rock handed him the 2,000 reais.

Maia looked thrilled, as though fortune itself had suddenly smiled on him.

Rock randomly selected two more young men and told them to go with Maia.

The three climbed onto the motorcycle and rode away.

Rock watched the taillight disappear into the distance.

Those 2,000 reais were another test.

If Maia and the other two could not resist the temptation to run off with the money, then the group standing here would lose three more members.

And over the next few days, as long as those three remained anywhere in the Stone River favela, they would become targets for the other young men to hunt down.

“Rivaldo, you’ve got work.”

Rock turned toward Rivaldo, who was standing at the entrance to the stronghold.

“Yes, Boss.”

Rivaldo stepped in front of the young men and began organizing them into formation.

For now, he would only teach them basic drills.

Their real training would not begin until they returned to the Slope favela or the Great Rock Wall Favela.

Rock had sent Maia and the others to buy food for the young men because, before setting out, he had already stored enough food in his storage space to feed twelve people for a week.

Away from home, he was not about to casually eat food brought back by young recruits whose backgrounds he had not yet confirmed.

Rock glanced at the youths obediently lining up under Rivaldo’s commands, then sent Death No. 2 over to help.

At the moment, the main security for the two squads was being handled by Kaká, the Ghost Squad sniper, along with the two Death Squad marksmen who had just upgraded to the M24 and HK417.

The three were positioned on high ground around the stronghold.

Based purely on the ranges of their weapons, they could theoretically cover nearly two square kilometers between them.

But because of the favela’s dense buildings and complicated terrain, the area they could actually control was little more than the 600-meter street directly in front of the stronghold.

...

Rock had originally planned to remain in the Stone River favela for no more than two days.

Once negotiations with Crazy Train were finished, he intended to leave.

Yet by the evening of the second day, Crazy Train still had not sent anyone to negotiate.

There had been no movement at all.

It almost seemed as though they had simply abandoned the Stone River favela.

So after Rodrigues and the others had spent most of the day training, Rock sent them out to play a simple game.

Find the strangers.

Having been born and raised in the Stone River favela, they could usually recognize faces that did not belong there.

Rock offered two Glock pistols as the reward.

That prize immediately sent the young men enthusiastically spreading throughout the streets and alleys of the Stone River favela.