Brazil: Criminal Empire - Chapter 158: Rock Shows Mercy (Patreon)

“Go ahead. Try shooting me.”

Rock turned around at his leisure.

The man behind him had already realized something was wrong the moment he pressed his fist against Rock’s waist. His hand suddenly felt lighter. The pistol he had been holding had vanished without a trace.

He immediately pulled his hand back and reached for the dagger at his waist, only to discover that it was gone too.

A chill shot from his tailbone straight up the back of his skull, making every hair on his body stand on end.

For this to happen on his very first job, he felt as though God himself had abandoned him.

Panicking, the man took a huge step backward and tried to retreat.

A racing bicycle was parked barely two meters away. If he could reach it, he might still have a chance to escape.

But then he realized his wrist had been clamped in a grip like an iron vise. He couldn’t move it at all.

The man he had intended to kidnap had already turned around, his expression utterly cold, with his wrist firmly caught in Rock’s hand.

A fist silently struck him in the chest.

His entire body instantly went limp.

With a casual tug, Rock pulled him off balance and sent him crashing heavily onto his knees.

Only then did Rock leisurely examine the man kneeling in front of him.

He was wearing a mask, but there was something familiar about his clothes.

Rock casually tore the mask off.

No wonder he looked familiar.

It was the same short-bearded man Rock had seen at the street corner earlier, the one accompanying the child.

Rock reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick cable tie, the kind coated in plastic with steel wire inside.

Strong and difficult to tear apart.

Rock kept an entire pack of them in his storage space. They were extremely useful for tying people up.

Without wasting time, Rock kicked the man to the ground, bound his hands behind his back, then wrapped several cable ties around his ankles.

He casually stuffed a gun-cleaning cloth into the man’s mouth. He had plenty of those in his storage space.

Then he simply left the man lying there.

Rock wanted to check on Tarcísio first before deciding what to do with him.

Once Ciro saw that Rock had subdued the attacker, he hurried over.

Rock opened the car door, placed a hand against Tarcísio’s neck, and checked his pulse.

Fortunately, nothing was seriously wrong.

He had only been knocked unconscious.

The man had even cleverly arranged Tarcísio in the driver’s seat, placing both hands on the steering wheel to keep his body upright.

He had also used makeup tape to pull Tarcísio’s eyelids open, making him look as though he were sitting there with narrowed eyes, lost in thought.

That was actually a pretty clever touch.

Rock had Ciro drag Tarcísio into the back seat.

Then he tossed the attacker into the trunk.

Just as Rock was about to close it, he noticed the man staring at him with pleading eyes.

He clearly wanted to say something but didn’t dare.

Rock thought about it for a moment and roughly guessed what he wanted.

“Where’s the kid?”

The instant Rock asked, the man’s eyes flew wide open, filled with terror.

Clearly, he had never dreamed Rock would know there had been a child with him.

Rock pulled the gun-cleaning cloth from his mouth.

“Where did you hide the kid? I don’t have the patience to play games with you. If you don’t tell me, then the kid can stay wherever you left her.”

That last sentence shattered the man’s remaining resistance.

“By... by the trash cans at the corner.”

His voice was extremely hoarse, but he was speaking Spanish.

Fortunately, Rock had obtained the Advanced Spanish Skill last time, so understanding him posed no problem whatsoever.

Rock didn’t care whether the man sounded hoarse because he was thirsty or for some other reason. He simply grabbed him with one hand and hauled him up.

“Ciro, come with me.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Ciro quickly got out of the car and followed Rock with curiosity.

Rock carried the man along as he followed the directions.

They reached a street corner about 300 meters away.

Two large trash cans had been positioned against the corner of a wall, creating a small hidden space behind them.

The stroller was sitting inside.

When the trash cans were moved aside, the child looked happily at the man with a pair of large, dark brown eyes.

“Daddy, it’s your turn to hide next.”

The man choked back a sob as he crouched down.

The child obediently climbed out of the stroller and stepped forward to wipe the tears from his face.

“Daddy, don’t cry. I’ll pretend I can’t find you too.”

From her voice, Rock realized the child was a little girl.

She was actually quite cute.

Rock’s original intention of killing the man faded considerably.

Fortunately, he hadn’t seriously harmed Tarcísio.

If Tarcísio had been killed, then this child would have had nowhere to go but an orphanage.

Given the circumstances, Rock experienced a rare moment of compassion.

He decided that as long as the man told him everything he knew, he would spare his life.

“Ciro, go buy an ice cream.”

Ciro looked at the child and immediately understood what Rock intended. He nodded and silently headed toward an ice cream stand by the street.

“Kid, we’re going to play a new game now, but we need to go somewhere else first.”

Rock pushed the stroller over to the little girl.

The man looked up at Rock, then hurriedly forced a smile for his daughter.

“That’s right, Belinda. We’re going somewhere else to play. There’ll be lots of tasty things there too.”

What followed made for an extremely strange sight.

Rock held the man up by his belt with one hand, leaving him suspended horizontally above the ground, while pushing the stroller with the other as he headed back toward the car.

By the time they reached it, Ciro had returned with an ice cream cone.

Rock didn’t bother waking Tarcísio.

He simply moved him into the passenger seat.

Once they got back, Rock would have to give him some serious training in situational awareness.

Getting knocked unconscious in his own car without even realizing what was happening was ridiculous.

Still using the game as an excuse, Rock folded up the stroller, stuffed it into the trunk along with the man, then climbed into the back seat with the little girl in his arms.

Belinda wasn’t shy around strangers at all.

Holding the ice cream Ciro had bought, she happily took one big bite after another.

Halfway through, she even wanted to share it with her father.

Rock simply told her that her father was in the back eating something tasty too.

Satisfied with that answer, Belinda happily went back to her ice cream.

Her poor father, locked in the trunk, listened to the conversation with tears streaming down his face and obediently stayed curled up inside.

Ciro was actually a pretty good driver himself.

He drove steadily toward the Great Rock Wall Favela.

After Belinda finished her ice cream, Rock pulled out a tissue and wiped her little face clean.

“Belinda, where did you two come from?”

Rock clearly remembered the name her father had called her.

“From home. Aren’t you?”

Belinda answered clearly, then turned the question back on him.

“Uh, yes. We all came from home.”

It was Rock’s first time talking to such a young child, and he showed an unusual amount of patience.

Ciro, driving in front, was astonished as he listened to Rock chatting with Belinda in Spanish in a tone gentler than he had ever heard from his boss before.

As a Brazilian, Ciro understood some Spanish himself.

In Brazil, at least, there were considerably more people who knew some Spanish than that damn English.

Still, hearing Rock speak fluent Spanish only deepened Ciro’s sense of how mysterious his boss was.

In Ciro’s eyes, Rock could practically do anything.

As Rock continued chatting with Belinda, he gradually pieced together a small part of the situation.

But the girl was only three years old.

Although she spoke clearly, many things came out jumbled when described from the perspective of such a young child.