The Amazing Son in Law The Charismatic Charlie Wade

Upon receiving Hogan’s command, Jordan bolted out in haste.

Chinatown, a maze of complexity confined to a single thoroughfare, fostered an intimacy among its denizens. A bustling street, it drew Chinese souls in droves. Here, bonds mimicked those of street-side neighbors. Despite a sprinkling of unscrupulous characters, the collective ethos leaned toward assistance and solidarity.

In the early days, newly-arrived Chinese immigrants in the States sought strength in numbers, forming close-knit groups for survival. Over time, as society evolved, so did the divisions, and the occasional alliance for mutual protection transformed into a vocation. Thus, the Chinese gang took shape.

Bloom Gang’s history told a different tale. From its inception, it was not a marauding crew preying on the weak.

Contrary to their Chinese counterparts, American gangs, largely birthed during Prohibition, thrived on anti-government ventures. They bore a century-long grudge, a doctrine that flouted authority. Huabang, on the other hand, collected protection dues in Chinatown akin to an unofficial community fee, reasonable and obliging, attending every household’s call.

Yet, the Burning Angel, collectors of protection dues, were veritable brigands. They craved only lucre, your life was spared if they got their fill. Deny them and a blade or bullet would speak.

Minutes later, Jordan returned with a middle-aged man in tow, a man of about forty.

As soon as the man crossed the threshold and beheld Hogan, he exclaimed with zeal, “Brother Hogan, you’ve returned!”

This was Casey Vigo, the overseer of the Chinese gang in New York’s Chinatown.

Spotting the thick bandage around Casey’s neck, Hogan swiftly inquired, “Vigo, what happened to your neck?”

Casey sighed, “Long story short, caught a bullet coming home. Grazed my neck. If I’d been a hair off, I’d be reporting to the Lord of Hell.”

He turned a horrified gaze to the five wretched figures in the corner. “Hogan, what in the world happened? What’s going on?”

Hogan pressed, “Jordan didn’t fill you in?”

was urgent,” Vigo replied, “But didn’t spill the

to collect ‘dues’ from Jordan, but Mr. Jagoan here gave them a

introduced, “Mr. Jagoan, this is Casey Vigo, head of the Chinese

Jagoan could scarcely believe that this vicious Burning Angel bunch had been reduced to such a state by

make the introduction. Mr. Jagoan here also wished to

identity, he surmised it was no small feat to have inflicted such

“How many members

now, barring the wounded

furrowed. “With nearly a hundred, how’d you let these five

him, confessed, “Mr. Jagoan… These five belong to the Burning Angels. Behind them are Italians. They command over a dozen gangs,

brawl with thousands involved in the U.S.? Could they really march thousands

don’t understand… They’re ruthless. Openly or covertly,

many of yours have the Burning

“Eleven… Only… We’re a foreign minority gang in New York, can’t take on local titans like them. We have no wish for confrontation and they’ve

minority gangs? Koreans, Vietnamese, Algerians, are they being crushed by the Burning Angel,

unyielding gaze, hesitating. “I haven’t heard of any

to Vigo, “Then, have you ever wondered? Why do these men steer

his

by Will, quivering. “The Koreans are armed to the