Philadelphia wasn't far from Jersey City—just a little over 100 kilometers away, roughly a two-hour drive.
By the time Frank Sheeran returned to Philadelphia, it was already dark.
As an assassin, Frank's whereabouts were never fixed. He frequently traveled between Philadelphia, Atlantic City, and New York, and occasionally even went to Chicago or Detroit to carry out missions. Before Jimmy Hoffa went to prison, Frank often visited Chicago because Hoffa lived there. But these days he rarely went.
After arriving home, Frank went to the kitchen, prepared something simple to eat, turned on the TV, and sat down to watch while eating. At the same time, he thought about several things the Dove of Peace had asked him to handle.
The first was the gasoline tax business. His truck drivers' union operated in Bloomington, near Philadelphia. If the drivers transported gasoline for Luca, they would receive the same benefits offered to the workers in Jersey. Frank was very satisfied with the new contracts and had readily agreed to cooperate with Luca.
And then there was the second matter.
Footsteps sounded from upstairs.
Frank looked up and saw his daughter walking down the stairs.
She was already a beautiful young woman in high school.
Frank's gaze suddenly grew distant.
If Luca hadn't mentioned his daughter, Frank might never have even thought about paying attention to her life or studies. He was always traveling everywhere, busy with work. Years of killing had numbed his emotions; many things no longer stirred any feeling in his heart—even something as important as having a daughter.
In his memory, she was still the cute little girl she had once been.
Peggy glanced at her father coldly, as if he were a complete stranger. Honestly, she probably would have looked warmer toward a plumber who had come to fix the pipes.
"Peggy," Frank called.
Peggy stopped, but didn't turn around.
Frank hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Didn't you once say you wanted to study somewhere far away? What about New York?"
Peggy turned her head immediately, clearly surprised.
Frank couldn't possibly not know that she had only said that as an excuse to escape from him.
Peggy despised her father's violent profession. Nearly every murder case shown on television seemed somehow connected to him. And now he was suddenly willing to let her leave?
"New York? Are you serious?" Peggy frowned. "You're not planning to dump me with some random relative, are you?"
"I have a friend."
"I'm not going."
Peggy looked disgusted.
How many of her father's friends could possibly be good people?
"Listen to me," Frank said patiently. "My friend is a very good man. Like your Uncle Hoffa, he genuinely cares about the workers' livelihood."
Peggy crossed her arms.
"Why are you suddenly willing to let me leave?"
"I'm just asking for your opinion. If you want, you can go to New York and attend the best schools there. I'll support you."
Peggy stared at Frank's face as if trying to figure out what he was planning.
New York…
That was a place she had always longed to go. It would also put plenty of distance between her and her father.
After thinking for a while, the rebellious high-schooler finally asked:
"So… which school in New York?"
"Spence School."
---
Inside the SSR Club in New York, Luca looked at the girl who stood a head taller than Mathilda and smiled gently.
The Peace Ambassador was once again dealing with domestic matters.
Peggy—Frank Sheeran's biological daughter and also the adopted daughter of Jimmy Hoffa. She also had connections with the head of the Bufalino family.
Although Peggy didn't possess a character card, she was practically covered in buffs from the original storyline's "Big Three."
If Luca could take care of her now, she might become extremely useful when dealing with Hoffa in the future.
And if the rift between Peggy and Frank could be repaired, building a bond with Frank would become much easier.
After all, Frank's daughter was one of the greatest regrets he carried until his death.
"My sister also studies at Spence," Luca said with a warm smile. "She's a few years younger than you. I think the two of you would get along very well."
Peggy stared blankly at the young man sitting in front of her.
He was far younger than she expected.
She had imagined someone around her father's age, but Luca looked barely in his early twenties—only about five or six years older than her. Calling him "uncle" would feel absurd; calling him "brother" might actually make more sense.
"Luca… thank you. I really like Spence School."
"Great. I'll arrange for you to enroll tomorrow."
Luca then patiently explained many details—living arrangements, high-school academic planning, future college choices, and more.
His careful attitude made Peggy feel as if she truly had an older brother who cared about her far more than her own father ever had.
The initial awkwardness gradually faded as their conversation continued.
When Peggy noticed the Silver Queen plant on the table, she suddenly felt reluctant to leave this comfortable room. The sense of security she had never received from her father seemed to exist here.
Peggy's situation was just a small episode.
At least now Frank would probably visit the club more often, and perhaps he and his daughter could finally talk properly.
If Frank could eventually be recruited to Luca's side—even if he never became a follower like Leon—it would still ensure that he wouldn't refuse Luca's requests in the future.
---
For the next period of time, Luca focused most of his energy on intelligence gathering and carefully monitored the evolving conflict in New York.
Although the leaders of the two rival factions within the Colombo crime family had gone into hiding, assassinations continued nonstop across the city. Killers repeatedly targeted important members of the opposing faction.
Within a single week, five official Colombo members were assassinated. Numerous associates were also killed, and even a gang leader died.
The methods were extremely diverse: assassination, throat-slitting, staged car accidents, drowning.
The speed of the killings was like mowing down wheat in a field.
In a very short time, New York began to resemble a capital of murder.
Ordinary citizens might not notice these deaths. Authorities suppressed the news whenever possible. But inside the police department and the FBI, investigators were already overwhelmed.
Inside the New York Police Department, David Mills and John McClane had gathered a massive stack of files containing information about the victims and their forensic reports.
"These assassins are unbelievably skilled," David muttered while flipping through the reports, looking like his head might explode.
"Take this one. Drowned. No clues at the scene. If the victim weren't a Colombo gang leader, I'd swear it was an accident. Who the hell drowns in their own swimming pool?"
"And with so many bodyguards around—are they all idiots? Didn't they notice their boss was drowning?"
McClane studied the crime-scene report.
"But the investigation results still list it as accidental drowning. If it's murder, then the killer's methods were unbelievably sophisticated."
David tossed another file onto the desk.
"And this one—cut to pieces with a samurai sword. Probably one of those Japanese assassins."
"And this one—sniper shot, clean headshot. We still haven't found the sniper's position."
"And this one… bitten to death?"
McClane: "…"
It looked as if someone had assembled a complete collection of both cold weapons and firearms just to hunt members of the Colombo family.
"John, I haven't slept at home for more than a week," David sighed. "I've been stuck here every day dealing with these cases, and we still can't catch a single killer. If this keeps up, I'm going to die from exhaustion."
McClane rubbed his temples.
He had only recently repaired his relationship with his family, but work had already forced him to neglect them again.
"How about we go ask the Dove?"
This time it was McClane who suggested it.
"He might be able to help us figure something out."
David suddenly burst out laughing.
"When in doubt, ask the Dove of Peace. Mike, looks like you've discovered the shortcut to promotion and a pay raise."
"I just want his help, not a promotion."
"Relax, John. If there's credit, we'll split it fifty-fifty."
McClane: "…"
---
Late November.
The New York underworld had gone completely insane with killing.
At that moment, Joseph Yacovelli of the Colombo faction could no longer endure the pressure. He contacted the other families, asking for protection, intervention in the internal conflict, and mediation to end the civil war.
The Bonanno crime family did not respond.
The Gambino crime family also chose to watch silently.
Only the Genovese crime family and the Lucchese crime family finally made a move.
The Genovese family wanted to kill Joe Gallo to avenge Pro.
The Lucchese family wanted to exploit the chaos.
But Joe Gallo refused negotiations entirely.
He demanded that either the Colombo faction submit and accept him as boss—or fight to the bitter end.
Joseph Yacovelli naturally refused.
Negotiations collapsed.
Joe Gallo responded in the most extreme way possible: he immediately killed another official member of the Colombo faction.
"They've gone completely berserk!"
Inside the club, Luca was drinking with O‑Ren Ishii when he received the news.
The call from Mariggio made him realize how serious the situation had become.
During the call, Mariggio said:
"Yacovelli asked us for help. He's even willing to exchange assets for our support."
Luca asked curiously,
"How does he plan to solve it?"
Mariggio replied,
"You always talk about peace, but peace isn't possible here. Gallo won't negotiate. The only solution is to kill Gallo."
"So we're supporting Yacovelli?"
"Correct."
Mariggio continued,
"Gallo doesn't need help from anyone here. Someone else is backing him—we've confirmed it's the Camorra."
Luca rubbed his temples.
Of course.
Those bastards from the Camorra again.
Only the Camorra had the nerve to interfere with the American Mafia. Their feud dated all the way back to the early 1900s.
"Luca," Mariggio said firmly, "the Commission has tacitly approved other families joining the conflict. If you want to interfere, go ahead. Don't worry about consequences."
"Not only must you eliminate Joe Gallo—you must also cut off the hand Camorra is trying to extend into New York."
"The Five Families don't need outsiders meddling in our business."
"Camorra must pay the price."
Mariggio continued:
"We're still locating their people. As soon as we have information, we'll contact you. The situation in New York is extremely chaotic right now, so keep me informed of your plans."
"Alright. Understood."
Luca hung up.
He lifted his glass and drained it in a single gulp.
The alcohol burned down his throat, and murderous intent flickered in his eyes.
The Peace Ambassador was very interested in cutting off Camorra's hand.
Beside him, O-Ren Ishii seemed to sense the change in atmosphere.
"Dove… are you planning to make a move?"
"Yeah."
Luca nodded with a smile.
"Want to come along?"
"Of course. Just tell me what to do."
"First, we need information. I have to know where my target is hiding in New York."
Luca set down the glass and stood up.
"Come with me to Bowery Street."
"We're going to visit someone."
"A very well-informed king of the underground."
The King of Bowery Street—leader of New York's Beggars' Guild.
When it came to intelligence networks, he might not be the best in the entire world.
But within New York City…
No one possessed more detailed information than him.
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