Queens, one of New York's most racially and ethnically mixed neighborhoods.

It's not like Brooklyn when you go out on the street at night, and there is a chance that you will see two rows of big white fangs floating in the air, and then there will be a burst of gunfire; But there's also no police car patrolling all night in Manhattan's Upper East Side.

So Hall went to the underground ring in Queens at night, with an extra group of bodyguards from Westminster International Security by his side.

A five-person team is set up, as well as two Cadillac bulletproof sedans, and can even call in anti-terrorist helicopter support from a nearby police station if necessary.

At the entrance of the underground ring arena, Larry walked up to Hall through layers of protection, looked at several bodyguards and exclaimed, "I have to say that the security company you hired is really professional."

Two white, two black and one yellow, the skin tones of the bodyguard team members are very detailed.

"There are two types of bodyguards in modern society, one is to protect personal safety, and the other is to avoid or solve unnecessary troubles." Hall was pleased with this kind of pomp and circumstance, and replied with great interest.

Larry laughed and made a gesture of inquiry: "So there is still such a saying, such as what?"

"For example, my personal bodyguard, Luca, can only protect me with a gun and his body when he comes to such an occasion."

Hall glanced back at the bulletproof car, "And the security company, a partner in their New York office, is having coffee with some people right now. I think it's more useful than bulletproof cars, don't you think?"

"Of course! Thank you for your advice." Larry replied, and Lynch, a Texas cowboy who was standing on the side, quietly left.

The corners of Hall's mouth curled: "You really have to thank me, this is the truth that the previous generation of housekeepers of the Hall family taught me when I was five years old, and it belongs to the inheritance of experience."

Saying that, looking around with a bad face, the crowd of onlookers who watched him dispersed in twos and threes: "There are a lot of people here, let's go in, don't make the bodyguards' work more difficult."

Larry's tone is sincere: "Your noble qualities are always inadvertently reflected."

"The medieval tone doesn't apply to modern society, it sounds like irony." Hall smiled and stretched out his hand and said to the girl next to him, "It's time for us to go in."

"Hmm."

Dressed in a camel-colored cashmere coat, a fisherman's hat, and a scarf wrapped around his shoulders, Connelly held his arm tightly with only the upper half of his face exposed.

Eyes scan their surroundings with agility.

In the underground passage, the rugged steel structure roof is outside, and the colorful lights reflect the graffiti painted on the walls on both sides. Pass through a bank vault with the same style of door.

In an instant, a cacophony of sound mixed with the pungent smell of cigarette alcohol and the smell of leaves rushed towards me.

In the hall of several hundred square meters, in the central ring, several ladies wearing three-point signs made cameo appearances as strippers, and the black pressure under the stage was a crowd of fanatical men and women screaming and shouting.

Connery instinctively tightened his arms.

Hall reassured, "It's a good fit for the gangster atmosphere of the era in Once Upon a Time in America, you can treat this place as a crew and pretend to be filming."

"There are very few scenes of the girl Daibola, in fact, I have been filming in the crew for a few days, and I have never seen this kind of set." The hall was too noisy, and Connery tilted his head in his ear in reply.

Hall sniffed the scent of cedar wood on her body and teased, "Then you're going to tell me the story behind the movie this morning."

"It's a trick for actors to find topics when chatting with others." Connery's tail rose slightly, adding, "My agent taught me."

The group stepped on the rattling red rust-colored iron staircase and entered the suspended box on the second floor.

Shielding himself from sound and odor, Connelly lowered his scarf and looked down at the first floor, where he spotted the crowd approaching the ring tapping the iron cage rhythmically and asked curiously, "Is this a ritual?"

"Sort of, they're telling the strippers to get down." Lynch explained.

Connery was puzzled, "...... It's not a good thing to say, but isn't striptease just for you men?"

Lynch leaned against the corner of the floor-to-ceiling window, shrugged and replied, "The occasion is not right, muscle collision and blood splattering are the theme,

Perverts should go to the bar, this is the battlefield of real men."

"It's a gangster." Connery sighed and returned to the couch to sit down beside Hall.

"Mr. Hall, the boxing match is about to begin, do you want to place a bet and have fun?" Larry leaned over and poured two glasses of wine and placed them in front of them.

Hall didn't guess what he wanted to play tonight, and asked, "What's the point of betting?"

"I suggest you play the simplest two, the one who pays to win and the one who pays to die." Larry explains.

Hall frowned slightly: "Unilateral death?"

"Yes, throw in the towel or die in the ring."

Larry said with a smile, "Take today's finale as an example: the defender is Ingor, nicknamed the Red Bear, who has won seven in a row; The challenger is an unknown ordinary gangster. The odds for regular betting are too low, and spectators are more willing to bet on the higher odds – dying on the stage before one side concedes defeat."

"So, what do you suggest?" Hall asked, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the couch.

Larry replied without hesitation, "There's no doubt that the defender Red Bear has strangled his opponent in four of his first seven fights, and his ground skills are very strong."

Connery's eyes widened, "He killed four people?!"

Feeling the strange eyes of everyone in the box on her, she opened her rosy lips: "Uh, I mean it's illegal to do this, it's ......."

"There are Indians in this ring, and what is in the ring has nothing to do with us, and our bets are legal, just like in the movies." Lynch has always been a gentleman to a lady.

Hall took a sip of wine: "I don't like blood, buy 10,000 knives to defend the battle."

"Okay." Larry took the check, gave Connally a friendly smile, and left the box to place his bets.

Kung Fu talking, the striptease show ended, and two strong men wearing only shorts walked into the ring.

Connelly stretched out his head to watch for a while, gradually attracted by the thrill of punching in the ring, and stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window to watch the match.

One of the players on the stage was knocked out, and she involuntarily swung her fist in response. Although this kind of occasion made her feel bad, the boxing match was indeed tense and made people's hearts beat faster. It's much more real than in the movie!

Seeing this, Lynch thoughtfully reminded: "It is better to go to the downstairs hall to watch the game, you can applaud with the audience, and you can see the details of the expansion of the players' body muscles up close."

Connery looked back at Hall.

"Monte, you go with Miss Connery, it's inconvenient for me to go down." Hall wasn't dating a little girl, he had to deal with Larry.

"Thank you." Connery politely thanked him.

Put your hat and scarf back on, and go downstairs with Lynch, Monte, and two bodyguards.

Pushing the door open, the smell of leaves in the air still made her feel dizzy, even through the scarf.

"Garcia*** that! Let him know how good the Lions from Brooklyn are!"

"I can't do it anymore, I'm going to die, God, God, where are you......

"Knock out the lobes of his lungs, can you do it?! Garcia, oh baby, I love you......

As if the noise of the roof was about to be lifted, Connery exclaimed, "It's too noisy for me to concentrate on the game!"

"You won't feel noisy if you shout along!" Lynch replied.

"Shouting what?"

"Whatever, how should you act when you encounter this kind of scene when you make a movie, and how to shout now."

"Lines? …… FXXX。」

"It's too quiet, louder, you need to let go!" Lynch gestured with his arms outstretched exaggeratedly.

Connery's small white hands gathered around his mouth to make a trumpet shape, and he pondered for a few seconds: "...... FXXX！ Down with him! Don't be a, FXXX! FXXXYOU!」