Marvel 1919 : Rise of an Empire

George arrived outside Reno and immediately changed his appearance to match that of a passerby he had encountered earlier.

Upon entering Reno City, George rented a hotel room not far from the Silver Legacy Hotel. Since the scheduled action was set for the following evening, he had time to rest.

Before checking into the hotel, George dispatched more than a dozen Shadow Clones to scout both the Silver Legacy Hotel and the Jewish Gang's former lending center—a three-story building. He quickly noticed that both locations had significantly increased their personnel.

He didn't attempt to infiltrate; by tomorrow night, anyone armed in either location would be crippled, and anyone he recognized would be killed. That would settle everything.

The next day, George blended in as a regular gambler—eating, drinking, and gambling until returning to his hotel after dinner.

At 8 PM, George suited up. He wore Deadshot's protective gear and layered thin bone armor on top. Upon reaching the rooftop of the enemy's three-story building, he immediately split into twenty Shadow Clones. He distributed the pistols he had previously collected to each clone. Though the supply was limited, the second floor served as an ammunition depot—they could resupply there.

Meanwhile, atop the Silver Legacy Hotel, Luciano and several subordinates were in conference with a burly Black man and a curly-haired man smoking a rolled cigarette.

"Luciano, do you think George will come tonight?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's just bluffing. Last time he came to negotiate, he ran off in the middle of the night. Haha."

"Hmm, so what's your plan now?"

"Next, I'll convene a Five Families meeting. The Corleone Family has damaged my interests and must compensate me. And George? Since he dares to provoke the Mafia, I'll deal with him personally."

"Don't kill him. We still need his goods and transport channels. That was our agreement."

"Don't worry. Thanks to your Basini Family and Nigo Gang, we got intel on George. This is just the beginning of our cooperation. Together, we can drive out the Corleone Family. Haha."

"Just keep your word."

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

All Shadow Clones prepared their guns and magazines. They stormed the rooftop passage and launched an attack from the third floor downward.

Facing the Mafia members, George was like a marksman at a shooting range—every shot a headshot. Three minutes later, only a small leader with all four limbs broken remained alive. The rest were dead.

George left two Shadow Clones with his main body and posted others at the windows and entrance. The rest began searching the building.

Approaching the wounded leader, George said, "Tell me where Luciano is, and I'll give you a quick death. Otherwise, it won't be pretty."

"He's at the Silver Legacy Hotel. Please, make it quick."

George raised his gun and shot him in the forehead.

Footsteps echoed outside. Someone shouted, "Move in! Surround the building! Don't let anyone escape!"

Gunfire erupted again on the third floor. One Shadow Clone was using a Browning 1918 Light Machine Gun (BAR) seized during a previous heist.

As gunfire upstairs subsided, the Clones who had been looting returned. Aside from firearms and some cocoa powder, no cash was found.

George wasn't concerned. The Clones replenished their weapons, including long-range Springfields. Then, they charged out the door.

Luciano and his men had heard the initial gunfire and realized the assault had begun. But once they discovered the building was occupied, they knew the worst had happened.

Luckily, they had stationed guards outside who were now engaging with the intruders. But another wave of gunfire rang out.

Luciano laughed nervously, "That should be the end of it. That just now—"

Before he could finish, George's Shadow Clones opened fire on the newly arrived reinforcements. More weapons were seized, and the twenty Shadow Clones pushed toward the Silver Legacy Hotel.

Twenty minutes later, in the penthouse suite, George leaned against a desk. Shadow Clones surrounded three trembling figures. A stack of money—around $200,000—sat on the desk.

"Mr. Orwell, please spare me! I'll obey you! I have money, take it all!"

"I'm from the Basini Family. I was only visiting an old friend. I'm innocent!"

The burly Black man begged for mercy, insisting he had no role in this.

George finally understood—Nigo had been recruited for muscle. They were just thirty men lured by the promise of two street blocks.

They were all dead. George pulled out the Rhino. Bang! A massive hole blew through the man's chest.

Turning to the Basini Family man: "You're Basini?"

"Yes, sir! I swear, I was just visiting!"

"Oh? I'll remember your family. Don't worry—I'll find them."

Bang! A bullet straight to the heart.

George returned to his position, staring at the fallen Luciano.

"You see, I came here to talk. You tied me up. Then you wanted me to apologize? So, I came back."

Luciano, now terrified, deeply regretted everything. He had no idea who this man truly was.

"Mr. Orwell," he pleaded, "It was my mistake. I was tricked by the Basinis! I have money, a lot of it! Take it all! The Jewish Gang is yours!"

"Oh, you have money? Bring it here, and I won't make any more holes in you."

Luciano scrambled to his feet. "It's in the safe. I'll show you."

He led George to a large painting. Sliding it aside revealed a vault with a rotary lock.

As he spun the dial, he muttered, "Promise not to kill me. Otherwise, you'll never open it."

George smirked, then shot him in the chest.

He placed a hand on the vault. With a thought, he absorbed the entire room-sized safe into his Chaos Space.

Inside, George found a heap of cocoa powder, a stack of cash, and shelves of Western antiques.

He had no use for the cocoa; he'd burn it all later. The cash was a good haul, and the antiques—likely collateral from loans—were worth keeping.

He absorbed everything from the vault and collected the firearms and cash from the room.

After confirming nothing was left, he dismissed the Shadow Clones and left the hotel.

Half an hour later, police swarmed the scene.

Over a dozen police cars stopped in front of the hotel. Officers froze upon seeing the carnage. From the lobby onward, bodies were everywhere.

"Too bloody," muttered the Police Director. "How long will it take to clean this up?"

The final death toll exceeded 130. Each victim had been shot cleanly—many with single shots. No one had seen the killer's face.

Some witnesses claimed to see about twenty uniformed individuals. Not a single one of them died.

The Police Director was shaken. "Who are these people?"

George paid no mind to the aftermath. His original plan was just to cripple everyone. But what if someone shot with the other hand?

Better to kill them outright. And so he did. Anyone who raised a gun was shot dead.

Four days later, George returned to New York. After switching places with his Shadow Clone, he reviewed updates:

Boeing had called, requesting a meeting.

Vito had also asked to visit.

Paul had left a report: the Winchester Company share transfer was complete, and a World Trade Center property had been secured for $100,000.

Though the Clone handled most of this, George himself now wrote a $200,000 check and sent it to Paul via his driver. He called Paul to confirm.

Two days later, George stood at his villa entrance as Vito arrived, driven by Tessio.

George shook Vito's hand firmly—he wasn't one for hugs.

In the study's reception room, George asked, "Coffee or alcohol?"

"Alcohol. Whiskey. Thank you."

"Great. I've got a good collection."

He grabbed a new bottle from the cabinet, poured three glasses, and handed them out.

They sipped in silence before Vito spoke:

"George, this is fine whiskey. I came to apologize. One of Tessio's men was bribed by the Basini strategist. Your intel was leaked—it was our failure. The traitor's been dealt with."

"Vito, I trust you. This wasn't your fault. The Jewish Gang was just greedy. By the way, how are they now?"

"They're gone. You wiped out 136 of them. The police had to line up the bodies in the hotel parking lot."

"Vito, that had nothing to do with me. I've been home all week."

He laughed heartily.

Vito let it go. There was no proof, and George had picked up Vito's call himself right after the massacre.

The visit had served its purpose: an apology and confirmation that their cooperation was intact.

For George, it was all business. The Jewish Gang was an example.

Next year, his liquor empire would expand. Displaying power now ensured no one would dare touch his profits.

End of Chapter 34

Translator's Note: Thank you for reading and supporting this chapter. Please comment, share your thoughts, and let us know if you spot any errors!