Rock wheeled the motorcycle out and propped it up by the roadside.
Then he went back to search the Jeep and found a stack of reais in the center console.
Judging by the results, every bullet he had fired had paid for itself.
He had gained a haul of weapons and ammunition, and most importantly, he had killed Ricardo.
After organizing the weapons and ammunition, Rock checked the rewards from the last three gunmen he had killed.
50-Point Experience Card ×1
Strangely, only two of the three had dropped anything.
He had no idea whether they had died in the wrong position or if there was some other reason.
Something similar seemed to have happened when he killed Ricardo, but Rock had not had time to think about it carefully, nor could he approach the scene to confirm who had actually died.
At least this incident made one thing clear.
There was a chance that killing an opponent would yield nothing at all.
The Quick Draw skill indicated that its former owner had spent plenty of time practicing his draw.
However, Rock had already upgraded that skill to intermediate level.
In his mind, Rock tried placing the beginner Quick Draw skill onto his intermediate Quick Draw skill.
To his surprise, the two skills merged.
Rock had grown stronger again.
He applied the Experience Card to Rifle Shooting.
He wanted to obtain an advanced skill as quickly as possible, which would make rifles even easier to handle in combat.
Rock felt a surge of excitement as he looked at the skill.
He only needed to kill one more opponent, and he might obtain his first advanced skill.
He found a backpack and two blankets in the Jeep’s trunk, wrapped up all the guns, and packed away the ammunition.
He bundled the FN FAL and AKS-74U he had brought with him as well, then secured everything tightly to the back of the motorcycle.
Some of the ammunition was also strapped to the rear of Camilla’s motorcycle.
“Oh, Locke, dear.
Today was so exciting.”
Camilla quickly helped him secure the ammunition and backpacks.
“Camilla, we need to leave as soon as possible.”
Looking at all the weapons and ammunition strapped to the two motorcycles, Rock felt a faint sense of danger.
He abandoned any thought of continuing to search the scene and hurried Camilla to leave.
By now, Camilla followed Rock’s instructions almost without question.
Admiration for strength was instinctive.
After witnessing everything Rock had done, her trust in him had reached an unprecedented level.
The moment he finished speaking, Camilla started her motorcycle.
Once she saw Rock mount his own bike and start the engine, she took the lead and rode away.
A few minutes later, two Jeeps and three motorcycles arrived at the scene.
Several burly men jumped out and carefully inspected the battlefield and the dead gunmen.
“Who the hell is coming after us?
Spread the word.
Crazy Train is offering a ten-thousand-real bounty for information on whoever did this!”
A muscular, bald man covered in tattoos stood beside the overturned Jeep and barked orders at the gunmen around him.
“Yes, boss.”
The gunmen answered cautiously.
It was obvious that the bald man held considerable authority and prestige within the organization.
After inspecting the entire scene, the group took all the bodies with them.
Several of them pried open part of the Jeep’s undercarriage and pulled out a large, tightly wrapped package of flour.
It appeared that recovering this package had been the main reason they had pursued Rock and Camilla.
Before leaving, the group threw two grenades into the Jeep.
Two thunderous explosions followed, reducing the vehicle to a mangled wreck.
With Camilla leading the way, the two of them returned safely to Slope 21.
They first brought the weapons and equipment back to Camilla’s house.
Then they counted the reais they had taken from the gunmen.
Ricardo’s men had apparently been quite wealthy.
They had obtained more than 14,000 reais from this haul.
To Camilla, it was an astronomical sum.
“Oh, Locke, dear, this is so much money.
If I didn’t love you, I might take it and disappear.”
Camilla’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cash, but she was honest enough to admit how tempted she was.
“Camilla, are you sure you want to take it?
I’ll make even more money in the future.
If you leave, I’ll find another woman to share it with,” Rock said half-jokingly.
“Oh, no, Rock.
Don’t be so cruel.
I don’t think I want to leave at all anymore.”
Camilla smiled and pressed herself against him.
Rock sorted the money into two piles, then tucked the larger share into Camilla’s cleavage.
“Oh, baby.
Are you ready for some fun?” Camilla asked, giving him a seductive look.
After the adrenaline rush of the gunfight, Camilla also felt an urge to express her feelings and learn some new life-saving techniques along the way.
“Locke, dear, can you teach me how to shoot a rifle?
The kind that goes rat-a-tat-tat when you spray bullets everywhere.”
“Of course.
I know quite a lot about shooting.
People are always happy to pass on what they know, so make sure you absorb every bit of it.”
…
“Camilla, is there anywhere reliable nearby that repairs motorcycles?”
Rock held Camilla close as he asked about a nearby repair shop.
The woman was exhausting.
Every time, it took him quite a while to recover.
The motorcycle they had taken needed a new rearview mirror, and the scrape marks from its collision with the roadside needed to be repaired.
“Abel.
Honest Abel is the best motorcycle mechanic around.
But when you go, make sure you bring Elena’s badge and a pistol, then watch him while he works.”
Camilla immediately gave him a name.
“You need a gun to make sure Honest Abel repairs it properly?”
Rock did not understand what she meant at first.
“Exactly.
That’s why he’s Honest Abel.”
Rock froze for a moment before finally understanding.
Apparently, Abel was only honest when someone armed was watching him.
“All right.
I’ll return Elena’s motorcycle first.”
Rock pulled away from Camilla and picked up the MAC10 Ingram submachine gun from among the weapons and ammunition scattered across the floor.
He inserted a 35-round magazine, then rode the motorcycle from the first-floor entrance toward the place where he had borrowed it.
“Olá, Carlos.
I’m here to return the motorcycle.”
“Olá!
It’s Kung Fu Locke.
How are you, brother?”
Carlos “The Mustache” stood staring idly down the street with a cigarette between his lips.
When he saw Rock return on the motorcycle, he greeted him enthusiastically.
“Great.
Never felt better.”
Rock patted his chest.
“Carlos, is Elena here?”
“Turn left and head upstairs.”
Carlos leaned against the wall with an AR-15 slung diagonally across his body.
He looked relaxed, but his eyes remained alert to everything happening around him.
Rock took the motorcycle key and headed upstairs.
The same two burly men were still standing guard at the turn in the staircase.
“Hey, brothers.
I need to see Elena.
Here’s the gun I’m turning over.”
Rock removed the MAC10 Ingram submachine gun from his shoulder and handed it to them along with the magazine.
One of the burly men, who wore a nose ring, took the weapon and inspected it.
After confirming that there was no round in the chamber, he kept the magazine and handed the unloaded submachine gun back to Rock.
Rock had not yet earned their complete trust, so he was not allowed to bring ammunition upstairs.
He followed the stairs to another spacious rooftop.
This one had a canopy, providing shade without obstructing the view.
Elena sat in a beach chair, drinking coffee and gazing into the distance.
When she saw Rock approaching, she smiled and poured him a cup.
“Olá, my foreign tough guy.”
“Olá, Elena.
I came to return the motorcycle and hand over another gun while I’m here.”
…