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— “Bang.” Levi exhaled the single syllable as he pulled the trigger.
The bullet from his Atlas 45 punched through Royce’s skull, detonating inside the mess of illegal chrome and bone.
A spray of red mist and white bone fragments painted Levi’s face.
He wiped it away without breaking his rhythm, firing the rest of his magazine with clinical precision.
Once the ten rounds were spent, he spent 10 reputation points to instantly replenish his ammo and reloaded the Atlas 45 with calm, mechanical efficiency, tucking it back into his waistband alongside his Nova revolver.
Jackie finally snapped out of his shock.
He reached for his gold-plated La Chingona Dorada, but it was already over.
Every Maelstromer in the room, including Dum Dum, lay dead with a single, perfectly placed hole in their heads.
Jackie hadn’t even had a chance to draw.
“Holy…
fuck!
Mano!
Are you even human?” Jackie stared at him, jaw dropped.
“What else would I be?
A dog?” Levi replied, unfazed.
“That’s not what I meant, Mano!
I mean…
are you a legend from the East?
Like Morgan Blackhand, Adam Smasher, Warlan ‘Old Snake’, Johnny Silverhand, or Sai-Tuo-Nai?” Jackie’s breathing grew heavy.
As a career street-goon, his entire life’s goal was to make a name for himself.
Standing in front of someone with this level of lethality was a spiritual experience.
“You’re overthinking it, Jackie.
Just a nobody.” Levi walked over to Royce’s cooling corpse and knelt to pick up the red-painted pistol.
Data scrolled across his vision: [Item: Chaos (Tech Pistol)] [Effect: Charged shots; 20-round magazine.] [Evaluation: A mass-produced Arasaka tech pistol.
Royce bought this beauty from Arasaka and never let it out of his sight; it bore witness to his rise from a nobody to a Maelstrom leader.] “A gun with a history.” Levi grinned and shoved it into the back of his waistband.
He liked trophies with a backstory.
The elevator chimed.
Several more Maelstrom members surged out, drawn by the sound of gunfire.
Usually, Royce and Dum Dum kept this floor restricted, but the security was already breached.
Jackie saw his opening.
He drew his gold pistol, eager to show his own worth, but he was too slow.
Bang-bang-bang-bang.
The reinforcement squad dropped like wheat before a scythe.
Every single one was a clean headshot.
“Mano!” Jackie groaned.
“I know you’re lethal, but leave some for me!
I’m losing my sense of presence here!” “Next time, definitely,” Levi smiled, tucking the Atlas 45 away.
He liked Jackie—he was a loud, loyal social butterfly, the kind of guy who’d make a great partner.
But partners could share drinks; they couldn’t share the kills.
Kills meant reputation, and reputation was the currency of his survival in this city.
He wasn’t about to give that away.
“You have to promise, Mano!” “Sure, sure,” Levi lied with a straight face.
He looted Dum Dum’s body next, finding a Nova revolver.
A quick inspection revealed a custom mod: [Item: Doom Doom] [Effect: Bullets ricochet off surfaces; chambered for explosive rounds; 6-round capacity.] [Evaluation: A mass-produced Darra Polytechnic revolver.
Dum Dum’s pride and joy—famous for turning enemies into unrecognizable piles of meat.
Warning: Requires extensive cleanup after use; not for the squeamish.] “Another one with a history.” Levi tucked it away.
He was now carrying four pistols—the limit for his mobility.
Any more and his draw speed would suffer.
“Jackie, let’s go.
I’m starving.” Levi’s stomach grumbled loudly.
He hadn’t eaten or drank anything since he arrived, and the high-intensity combat was starting to take its toll.
“Right, Mano.” Jackie led the way toward the elevator, his gold pistol ready.
“Be careful on the way out.
We just slaughtered half their leadership—things might get messy.” “Doesn’t matter.
I’ll take it as it comes,” Levi said calmly.
They descended to the ground floor.
Levi braced for a final, desperate stand, his Atlas 45 raised.
But to his surprise, the remaining Maelstromers didn’t attack.
They watched with a mixture of fear and caution.
“Get out.
You aren’t welcome here,” one member hissed, his red LED eyes pulsing in the gloom.
They would have attacked, but the orders from Brick—the gang’s true leader—held them back.
Royce and Dum Dum were only rising upstarts, and they didn’t have the full loyalty of the rank-and-file.
“Looks like we got lucky, Mano,” Jackie sighed, holstering his weapon.
“Yeah.
Real lucky,” Levi replied.
He didn’t care about the grunts.
His attention was locked on a new, crimson window flashing in his field of vision: [Nobody or Legend?] [The deaths of Royce, Dum Dum, and several Maelstrom elites have boosted your reputation.] [You have taken the first step toward fame; your name is beginning to emerge from the shadows.] [Certain fixers and corporate employees are now aware of your existence.] [You will find it easier to secure high-tier contracts as a merc.] [You will find it easier to recruit elite mercenaries as a fixer.] — Don’t forget to send Spirit Stones for more chapters.
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