Two people, one large and one small, were walking on the streets of Hell's Kitchen. It was still daytime and nothing too difficult to see was happening, so Bulcasso was quite happy.
"Jill, has this place always been like this?"
Bulcasso looked at the lively scene in front of him with some confusion.
Police cars could be seen slowly driving past on the street, but the gangsters on both sides of the street seemed not to see them.
As for the elderly people, they greeted the police officers in the car. If he hadn't seen the dollar bills being passed into the car, Bulquesso would have believed that their relationship was harmonious.
"Yeah, always."
Jill seemed a little heavy when talking about this topic.
Being able to grow up safely in this place is simply a torturous level of difficulty.
"If this were in an asylum, all the bastards on the street would have their legs broken and hung on stakes!"
Bulcaisel's voice sounded, attracting the attention of most people on the street.
Hearing the barbarians' unabashed statements of dissatisfaction, those gangsters seemed to be planning to do something to maintain their pathetic pride.
"Old man, are you still playing that online game! I told you that thing is not suitable for us old guys!"
At this time, an old voice sounded, interrupting the crowd of people around.
The staggering figure of the old barber shop man I met a few days ago appeared not far away and waved to Bulcasso, his eyes a little eager.
Bulcasso understood that the old man wanted to avoid trouble for him, and it was entirely out of good intentions.
So I just expressed my disdain for those gangsters in my heart and walked towards the old guy with Jill. Anyway, no matter how much dust there is, it will make Bulcasso disgusted at most, and there is no way it can hurt him.
"I said man, how are you doing?"
Bulcasso reached out and patted the old guy on the shoulder, looked into his eyes and spoke slowly.
"It's okay. Last time I said I would give you a free haircut. Since I saw you today, let's do it now."
Speaking of which, this old man is not actually thin, but no matter who stands in front of Bulcasso, who is more than two meters tall, he looks less strong.
Bulcaisuo's body was the product of repeated training on the battlefield. His strong muscles and moderate fat made his body look extraordinarily burly.
But it doesn't have that distinct and amazing sense of lines.
There is no way, in order to survive better on the battlefield, every soldier will store some fat in his body.
You must know that fat protects the body far more than muscles.
Of course, professionals like monks and demon hunters pursue ultimate dodge and flexibility.
Their pursuit of physical fitness is completely different from that of barbarians.
But even among the weakest spellcasting professions, whether they are witch doctors or mages, their bodies are far stronger than ordinary people.
Except for the Necromancer Bulcaisel, who deals with corpses all day long, I haven't seen much of them. Although those guys fight for hope and justice, their methods are too terrifying.
Large areas of corpses exploded at every turn, and ghosts flew around, which was really unsightly.
"Who is this little guy? Your grandson?"
The old black man was a little curious when he saw Bulcasso taking Gil.
In his understanding, most of those superhumans are lonely, and it is rare to hear news that these guys have families.
Just like that tight-fitting pervert who's been active in Hell's Kitchen.
I heard it was called Daredevil, but who cares?
The existence of that guy made the gangs restless at all, causing all kinds of explosions at every turn.
"Ah, of course you can think so."
Bulcaisel patted Jill on the head and said with a smile:
"There is no need to take care of my hair, but this little guy needs a more energetic hairstyle to make him cheerful."
While talking, Bulqueso took the child into the barber shop he saw a few days ago. The space inside was not large, with only two chairs for barbering.
And they all look old.
"Man, my name is Bulcasso, what's your name."
Bulcasso looked at Luke Cage who was sitting in the small space behind the counter, and said to the old man next to him.
"Oh, I forgot I didn't introduce myself. My name is Zach, Zach Strand."
As he said this, Old Zach pointed at Luke Cage who was looking at Bulcasso and was about to make an introduction.
"I remember him, his name is Luke."
Bulcaisel pinned Gil down on the barber's chair.
"Then it's up to you, old Zach, to give this kid the most energetic hairstyle!"
As he spoke, Bulkesso laughed loudly.
Luke Cage on the side seemed to want to say something, but chose to shut up.
"Who doesn't know that my old Zach's barber shop is the best on the block? Just leave it to me."
As he said that, old Zach came over with a clipper.
…
"Uncle, do you really think this hairstyle is very energetic?"
Gil looked at Bulcasso with a layer of short, fluffy blond hair, as if he wanted to see a hint of guilt in Bulcasso's eyes, but he obviously failed.
After all, for Bulcasso, the long hair is because he is too lazy to take care of his hair. For him, as long as it does not affect the battle, any hairstyle is a spiritual hairstyle.
To expect the aesthetics of a barbarian, I can only say that children are still too young.
It was true that Old Zack's was, as he said, the best barber shop on the block, even counting the surrounding blocks.
But neither Bulcasso nor Gil noticed that only black people would come to Old Zach for haircuts, so none of the hairstyles he designed were suitable for Gil, a child with blond hair.
"Okay, Luke, just tell me what you have to say. You don't have to be timid behind us."
Bulcaisel turned around and looked at Luke Cage, who was wearing a cheap shirt.
He somewhat liked this natural warrior, so he didn't mind spending a little time to hear what he had going on.
"I think it's best for you not to come to Hell's Kitchen so often. Your image and personality are too conspicuous."
Luke Cage had an embarrassed expression on his face when he said this.
He is a unique person, born with great strength and invulnerable skin. If it were not for his extraordinary sense of justice, he might have been Kingpin's guest.
After all, in his opinion, Bullseye, who was known as the number one killer, had nothing to do with him.
A killer who uses projectiles and firearms cannot penetrate his defenses.
In fact, he was still overconfident.
Although he just wanted to teach Hit a lesson that night and did not show any real skills, but how smart can a black man who has no chance to receive combat training be with his experience in melees on the streets?
"Is this place dangerous?"
Bulcaisel was a little curious. He had not settled in New York for long. At most, he felt that this place was particularly chaotic. It would be difficult to understand the dangers of this place in detail.
"Yes, gangs, and that pervert in a tights with two D's stacked on his chest."
Two D's?
Brother Xia?
