Chapter 49: The Rebel

In Luca's impression, Brian was a textbook rebel, but one who rebelled against the federal government rather than his own gang. Unlike Donnie, Brian had betrayed the FBI without hesitation, choosing instead to aid criminals.

And this choice was not driven by personal gain, but by friendship.

He went undercover in a street racing crew to crack down on crime, only to end up becoming best buddies with the crew's leader, seducing the leader's sister, and forging a deep, unbreakable bond with the siblings... until the very end, when he personally let the brother go right under the police's noses.

From that moment on, the dynamic duo continued to pen legendary tales, driving cars across land and sky, making a formidable name for themselves internationally, and building a loving, tight-knit family!

-- Fighting for family!

Luca was already scheming on how to poach this rebel away from the FBI.

A rare SSR!

003, you are the one!

While Luca was observing Brian, the latter was likewise observing Luca while making small talk.

Aside from Hollywood movie stars, this was the first time Brian had ever encountered a man in real life who was even more handsome than himself.

Before coming here, he had already read and learned much about Pigeon Luca through intelligence reports and past exploits, but the man's deeply contradictory identity and behavior made it impossible for him to get a clear read on Pigeon's personality or profile.

Luca brought the conversation around to work: "Brian, you're from Los Angeles. What brings you to New York looking for a job?"

"Well..."

Brian explained, "The drivers' union over in Los Angeles offers terrible benefits. I heard the unions on the East Coast are much better, and that they secure a lot of solid benefits for the workers..."

Brian recited the excuse he had prepared well in advance.

The International Brotherhood of Teamsters was a nationwide mega-union with an extremely powerful president who managed tens of billions of dollars in retired workers' funds. Beneath him were numerous local chapters across various cities and regions, each answering to different local presidents.

The current president had cozy ties with the mafia. The mob and union bosses frequently embezzled pension funds to invest in other industries, raking in exorbitant profits.

The most classic example was the gambling haven of Las Vegas—the mafia played an indispensable role in transforming it from a desolate desert town into a gambling paradise, with the Jewish mob also cashing in heavily.

As for the previous president of the Teamsters, he had been busted by the Department of Justice and was still rotting behind bars. If Luca wanted to grind reputation points with him, he'd actually have to go visit him in prison....

Listening to Brian ramble on so extensively about union matters, Luca twitched his toes as a suspicion crossed his mind: Was this kid actually trying to dig up evidence on the mafia and the Teamsters?

Oh, wonderful. This guy's man-and-car integration skill meant he could handle literally any kind of ride, didn't it?

At the end of their chat, Luca stood up to see Brian out to the door.

"As for the specific details of your job, we'll talk more once the club officially opens."

Luca shook his hand, his palm warm and his grip firm. "As long as you work hard and keep your feet on the ground, you'll earn enough here to establish yourself in New York... If you run into any trouble with your living situation since you just arrived, let me know. My employees always get whatever support they need from me."

"Greco, I..."

"Call me Old Pigeon, if you like this job."

Brian felt the warmth of Luca's palm, a gesture of goodwill; he also felt the rough calluses, testaments to the other man's past.

An inexplicable sense of lingering trust enveloped his heart, filling him with warmth. Brian nodded, "Thanks, Old Pigeon. I'll give you a call if I need anything."

[Bond: Attention]

Watching Brian's receding figure, the smile on Luca's face gradually faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression.

To be honest, Luca hadn't expected Brian to show up at all. This timeline didn't align with Brian's original plotline whatsoever, and heaven only knows what kind of story would unfold with him in New York now.

The only thing that brought Luca some solace was that this kid Brian placed an excessive value on personal loyalty—far exceeding his official job duties—making him a much more straightforward and simple-minded boy than even Old Left.

Luca couldn't help but smile faintly.

Perhaps he wouldn't even need to make the first move; Brian himself would likely initiate contact to get closer and win his trust.

...

Two days later.

Jordan and Donnie arrived at the SSR Club by invitation.

Jordan showed strong interest in Luca's ambition to dip his toes into Wall Street—his own greatest weakness was his lack of backing and insufficient capital, unlike major Wall Street investment banks that all had powerful patrons standing behind them.

The growth of his brokerage firm was essentially born from picking up scraps. Those major investment banks initially hadn't cared much about the penny stock market because junk stocks were hard to sell—poor people didn't have much money, and rich people were too shrewd, so who were they supposed to sell to? Whose money were they going to make?

-- Thus proving the importance of eloquence.

Now, Jordan was also looking to transform his business. Those aggressive cold-calling scams were getting a bit low-class; he needed to branch out into some new investment ventures.

"Old Pigeon, I remember you saying just the other day that the internet concept is complete bullshit."

Sitting on the sofa in the penthouse office, Jordan crossed his legs and looked at Luca with a teasing expression. "Now you're planning to invest in the internet too?"

"When enough people blow hot air, even bullshit can fly," Luca retorted. "Didn't you tell me the most important thing is making the suckers believe it?"

Jordan laughed. "I've been keeping an eye on news about this lately myself. In the first half of this year, global internet users were only around ten or twenty million, but now it's already over thirty million. At this rate of growth, it'll break 100 million next year...."

While this scumbag called it bullshit in public, in private he paid close attention to any news that could turn a profit. The internet was undoubtedly one of the current trends, as well as a colossal bubble hollowed out from within. After all, very few companies could turn a profit right now; they were all burning money to gamble on the future.

The two of them discussed numerous business matters in detail before finally turning to the main business at hand—the FBI.

"Old Pigeon, I've already transferred that money away from Sorel," Jordan said with a worried expression. "But he still holds a lot of my money-laundering records. Those dark stains are hard to wipe clean unless..."

He made a throat-slitting gesture and looked at Luca with hopeful eyes.

Luca mocked, "You look more like a hitman than I do. Quick to kill over a disagreement—done shearing the sheep and now you want to chop off heads?"

Jordan gave up all pretense: "Anyway, I've done everything I possibly can, and I'm out of ideas. The FBI keeps breathing down my neck over this, and that guy Denham probably has plenty of evidence in his hands already by now... Old Pigeon, to be honest with you, I'm a little worried."

Luca smiled slightly.

When people say they're a little worried, it usually means they're terrified out of their minds.

Looking at Luca's unshakeable smile, Jordan sighed helplessly, "Alright, alright. Actually, I'm more than a little worried."

Luca still smiled.

When people say they're more than a little worried, it means they're practically at their wit's end.

"As long as you can help me solve this trouble, no matter how you do it—whether you take out Sorel or take out Denham—you're definitely better at solving problems than I am."

Jordan shot a look at Donnie, who pulled out several large suitcases: "There's four million here! The extra million is your rush fee!"

Luca didn't even bat an eye.

Taking out Denham was quite literally the dumbest idea possible... Luca figured he still needed to learn that guy's skills, and it was rare to have Denham owe him a favor. Taking out Sorel was worth considering, though; that guy laundered money for drug traffickers, making both the Japanese Red Flower restaurant and Sorel big fish.

Handled properly, he might even be able to maneuver Denham up the ladder within the FBI while casually farming some bond points, making that guy owe even more favors... The FBI still had some connections to Brian, and if Brian ever turned traitor in the future and the FBI came sniffing around, that would be the exact moment to let Denham "step in."

Pulling his thoughts back, Luca didn't even spare a glance at the cash. "Belfort, do you remember what I told you the first time I brought you to the SSR Club? That was our very first cooperation, and what I needed more than anything was your friendship and trust. Once we become friends...."

Luca narrowed his eyes: "Your enemies will be my enemies too!"

...

Jordan and Donnie left the office empty-handed.

Donnie whispered his complaints to Jordan: "Didn't he say we're friends? He wasn't polite at all when it came to taking the money—didn't even blink."

Jordan the orator didn't mind at all. "How can you become friends without exchanging a few favors first? Let's go. Since Old Pigeon took the money, he'll figure out a way to handle it."

He raised his hand and looked at a membership card in his palm.

SR001.

A smile spread across his face as Jordan slipped the membership card into his pocket, muttering, "001! Looks like I'm the first member of the SR Club!"

Donnie asked in confusion, "Isn't it the SSR Club? Your number is missing an S."

Jordan: "....."

If you hadn't mentioned it, I damn well wouldn't have noticed.

What the hell is missing an S supposed to mean?

...

Brian's temporary residence was arranged by the FBI in a detached villa in the Bronx.

Brian wasn't picky about where he lived, with one absolute requirement—it had to have a large garage, convenient for parking and modifications.

Undercover work and all that could take its time.

But speeding could not be delayed for even a single second!

Only speed could ignite the passion of life, and soaring adrenaline was the ultimate proof of one's existence!

Whoosh!

The garage rolling door rose, letting in bright light and gradually revealing a green Mitsubishi Eclipse covered in graffiti, crouching menacingly like a dormant beast.

"Hey there, buddy~~~"

Brian stroked the car body with absolute fondness, his hand sliding from the hood to the door like caressing a young maiden's skin. "Come with me, let these New Yorkers get a taste of Los Angeles speed!"

Brian