Naruto:Suna Shinobi

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"What the hell is that!?"

John Spaletta, his face covered in dust and debris, stared in horror at Black Gold, which had stormed into the bar like an unstoppable war machine.

His father, Simmons Spaletta, didn't flinch.

"Maybe they're after the goods we shipped last time," Simmons muttered, his mind racing. "But that thing isn't even with us. We were just middlemen."

John gritted his teeth. "Then why the hell are they attacking us?"

Simmons sighed. "No point arguing. We need to take that thing down first."

Simmons calmly took out a mirror, angling it to watch Black Gold's movements.

With his other hand, he pulled a grenade pin with his teeth, waited three seconds, then tossed it toward Black Gold.

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the bar, sending shrapnel flying.

Black Gold staggered but didn't fall.

Instead, a gun barrel popped out from its shoulder—and rained down bullets on the area Simmons had thrown the grenade from.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS MONSTER!?"

Simmons ducked behind the bar, his heart pounding.

He grabbed his son's arm.

"Forget this. We're leaving!"

John hesitated.

"Our men are still—"

"Screw them! We have a secret passage in the restroom. Move!"

As the two turned to escape, a dark shadow dropped from the ceiling.

Hirito landed between them.

Before John could react, Hirito slammed his knee into his gut, pinning him down.

With his left hand, he pressed a pistol against Simmons' forehead.

Meanwhile, Black Gold dragged another Spaletta thug by the collar.

It raised its fist—then SPLAT!

The thug's entire body exploded into the wall, reduced to nothing but pulp.

Simmons froze.

John wheezed in pain, looking up at Hirito.

"We—" Simmons began, raising his hands.

Hirito smiled.

"Good choice."

"Aman, clean up the mess. Accountant, grab all their money."

Hirito nodded toward his men.

"Anthony, Jackson—take these two upstairs. We'll have a little chat."

The two dragged the Spaletta father and son to a private room on the second floor.

"KNEEL."

A hard kick to the back of their legs forced them down.

Hirito sat on the sofa, casually picking up a fruit knife.

With a flick of his wrist, he effortlessly sliced an apple into perfect, even pieces.

"I'm pretty skilled with a blade," Hirito mused.

"Not enough to cut bullets midair like some crazy sword masters... but good enough to carve off a hundred pieces of flesh from someone before they die."

Simmons grimaced but remained calm.

"Boss... just ask. I'll answer. Just let my son go."

John's eyes widened in panic.

"No, Dad, you don't have to—"

Hirito shoved a rag into John's mouth, silencing him.

"Nah. I don't trust you two. You're gonna be interrogated separately. If your answers don't match, that means you're lying... and I get to test my knife skills.

"But if both of you are honest, I'll consider your request."

Hirito smiled.

"Sound fair?"

John was dragged away, leaving Simmons alone with Hirito.

Hirito leaned forward.

"First question—where's all your money?"

Simmons sighed in defeat.

"The ledger's upstairs in my office.

We've got $700,000 in total.

$200,000 in cash, hidden in my desk drawer.

Another $150,000 at Gotham Savings & Loan Bank.

$100,000 in Wayne Enterprises Private Bank.

The rest—$300,000—is in the safe at our supermarket warehouse on Decker Street."

Hirito nodded.

"Smart man. Diversified assets. Not bad."

"Where are the bank keys?"

"One's on me," Simmons admitted.

"The other's with John."

"The password?"

Simmons sighed.

"The founding date of the United States."

Hirito smirked.

"July 4th, 1776? You guys gotta be more creative."

"Alright," Hirito continued. "Next question.

Did you rob Penguin's shipment last month?"

Simmons hesitated.

"We were involved... but we don't have it."

Hirito's eyes narrowed.

"Then who does?"

Simmons exhaled sharply.

"Hugo."

Hirito raised an eyebrow.

"Hugo who?"

"Hugo Strange."

Hirito froze for a second.

"That name sounds familiar..."

"The professor from Gotham State University?" Hirito asked.

Simmons nodded quickly.

"He's also Arkham Asylum's chief consultant… and recently got a seat on Gotham's City Council."

Hirito frowned.

"No wonder that name rang a bell. When I was locked up in Arkham, I had a psych evaluation with that guy."

"What was in the shipment?"

"I don't know," Simmons admitted.

"It was a sealed container. Some kind of high-tech device—made by Dayton Industries in Metropolis."

Hirito tapped his knife against the table.

"Dayton Industries? Never heard of them. I'll check it out later."

Not that it mattered.

"Whatever this is, it's Batman's problem. I just want to run my gang."

Hirito stood up.

"Alright, stay put."

He walked across the hall to John's room and repeated the interrogation.

Ten minutes later…

Both father and son had given identical answers.

Hirito sighed, spinning his knife.

"Damn it. No lies? That means I can't cut them up."

Still, a promise was a promise.

He pulled out his radio.

"Anthony, check if the signal jammer is off."

"If it is, call Penguin. Tell him—"

Hirito grinned.

"—he's got a couple of guests waiting for him."

(End of this chapter)

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