Jason hesitated for a moment before making another offer.
“$1.5 million. That’s my bottom line.”
“$1.5 is too high. &1.1 million. I’ve got a family, Jason. If the Biker Gang traces this back to me, they’ll wipe out my entire household.”
“$1.4! That’s as low as I’m going!”
“$1.2! Come on, kid, have a little sympathy for an old man. Helping you means making an enemy of every gang in New York. I could have ten lives and it still wouldn’t be enough for them to kill me!”
“Son of a bitch! $1.3 million! Haggle one more time and I’m hanging up!”
“Fine! $1.3 million, deal! Where are we making the exchange?”
Just like that, Mr.
Moran had shaved seven hundred thousand dollars off the price.
Jason exhaled irritably.
“The docks in northern Bronx!”
“All right. I’ll send my people over right away. They’ll be there within an hour.”
“Remember, I want cash. Nonsequential bills.”
“That’s standard procedure. I know.”
Jason hung up and called Franklin.
“Take a right at the next intersection. Head for the docks.”
“Got it, Boss.” Franklin turned the wheel, guiding the semi onto a side road toward the docks.
About fifteen minutes after they changed routes, Jason noticed a dense cluster of lights in his rearview mirror.
He eased off the accelerator.
The lights multiplied, and soon he could faintly hear the roar of motorcycle engines.
Damn.
The Biker Gang had found them.
Jason suddenly realized he’d made a serious mistake.
He immediately called Franklin.
“There’s probably a GPS tracker or something on that truck. Find it and toss it out. Now.”
“Boss, what’s wrong?”
“The Biker Gang caught up with us!”
“Then what do we do? This truck can’t outrun motorcycles.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll hold them off. Get to the docks as fast as you can. Once I’ve dealt with these guys, I’ll catch up.”
“Got it!”
The call ended.
Franklin gripped the steering wheel and floored the accelerator.
The semi’s engine roared as the massive vehicle began picking up speed.
At that moment, Franklin’s Level 6 Driving Mastery showed its full potential.
He could push the truck to high speeds while still keeping the cargo safe.
Jason lightly pressed the brakes and continued slowing down until he was cruising at around forty miles per hour.
Before long, more than a dozen members of the Biker Gang appeared behind him on Harley Davidsons.
Jason pretended to be an ordinary driver and moved to the right, leaving them plenty of room to pass.
The bikers suspected nothing.
They merely glanced at him before accelerating past.
Jason followed at a comfortable distance.
Then, without warning, he slammed the accelerator to the floor.
The S2,000’s engine screamed, and the tachometer needle shot upward.
With the engine roaring, the sports car launched forward like an arrow released from a bow.
The bikers had no time to react.
Jason plowed straight through the middle of their formation.
BANG!
Several motorcycles were struck at nearly ninety miles per hour and hurled into the guardrails on either side of the road.
CRASH!
In an instant, the motorcycles shattered into wreckage.
[Killed five members of the Biker Gang. +500 Villain Points. Current progress: 2,515/4,000.]
“Oh, shit!”
After a brief moment of panic, the bikers immediately understood what had happened.
The Honda S2,000 belonged to the hijackers.
Unfortunately for them, by then they couldn’t even see the Honda’s taillights.
“Go! We have to get the truck back!”
After opening up some distance, Jason stepped on the brakes.
He jerked the steering wheel left.
The S2,000 swung sideways into a drift before coming to a stop perpendicular to the road.
Jason grabbed the M4A1, jumped out, and braced the rifle over the car door.
The headlights on the Harleys were exceptionally bright.
Normally, that was an attractive selling point.
Right now, though, they were practically beacons guiding Jason’s aim.
He lined up his sights with one of the headlights, then raised the muzzle half an inch.
Bang!
Bang!
Two shots rang out.
A biker was struck and sent tumbling across the pavement with his motorcycle.
[Killed one member of the Biker Gang. +100 Villain Points. Current progress: 2,615/4,000.]
Jason grinned and continued firing at the headlights.
The bikers tried to return fire, but their shotguns had an effective range of less than a hundred yards.
The M4A1, meanwhile, could effectively reach out to more than four hundred.
That three hundred yard difference was Jason’s personal kill zone.
[Killed two members of the Biker Gang. +200 Villain Points. Current progress: 2,815/4,000.]
After three of their companions died, someone finally realized what was happening.
“He’s aiming at our headlights! Turn them off! Turn them off!”
The bikers hurriedly killed their headlights.
Jason immediately lost his reference points.
He didn’t panic.
Instead, he switched from controlled bursts to full-auto fire.
The road was straight.
As long as he sprayed bullets down the roadway, eventually something was going to get hit.
RATATATATAT!
Deadly muzzle flashes erupted from the barrel.
One biker after another was struck and sent crashing to the pavement.
By the time Jason had emptied all three magazines, he’d killed another five men.
The efficiency was…
painfully mediocre.
Jason discarded the M4A1 and pulled out his Benelli M4 Super 90 shotgun.
Click!
He chambered a round.
By then, the two sides were less than a hundred yards apart.
The bikers, who had spent the entire fight being helplessly picked off, could finally return fire.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
A storm of projectiles poured toward Jason.
The Honda’s tires burst.
Its doors were riddled with holes.
The windshield exploded into fragments.
Pellets struck the asphalt around him, throwing up showers of sparks.
The Biker Gang was using buckshot, sending clouds of steel pellets across a wide area and suppressing Jason so heavily that he couldn’t even raise his head.
If they had maintained that firepower, they might actually have had a chance.
The old pump-action design had to be cycled after every shot.
And considering they were riding motorcycles at high speed, their rate of fire was exactly as bad as one would expect.
Jason’s Benelli M4 Super 90, on the other hand, was a semi-automatic shotgun.
Once the first round was chambered, he could fire continuously.
The moment Jason recognized the difference in their weapons, he knew his opportunity had arrived.
He crouched behind the car and waited.
As soon as the bikers’ gunfire stopped, Jason suddenly rose and brought up the shotgun.
They were now less than fifty yards apart.
He barely needed to aim.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Jason fired seven times in rapid succession, emptying the shotgun.
He was using 12-gauge sabot slugs.
Each hit could tear a hole nearly the size of a baby’s fist.
At fifty yards, combined with Jason’s Level 5 Firearms Mastery, the result was inevitable.
All six remaining bikers were struck.
They collapsed into pools of blood almost simultaneously.
[Killed six members of the Biker Gang. +600 Villain Points. Current progress: 3,915/4,000.]
The furious gunfire abruptly ceased.
Silence settled over the road once more.
Jason stood up and let out a long, relaxed breath.
The Honda was finished.
Its tires had been blown apart, the windshield was gone, and even the engine was smoking.
Fortunately, several of the Biker Gang’s Harleys were still rideable.
Otherwise, Jason would’ve had to walk all the way to the docks.
He packed everything useful from the Honda into his backpack, hauled one of the Harleys upright, and continued toward the docks.
After riding a couple hundred yards, however, Jason turned around and came back.
He frowned, deep in thought.
Then he opened the system interface.
[Notoriety: 181 ↑]
What a headache.
His Notoriety was rising at a snail’s pace.
Have I been too low-key?
Jason carefully thought back over everything he’d done in the past few days.
If all of that counted as keeping a low profile, then what did that make Kingpin and the other crime bosses?
Invisible men?
Since Jason obviously wasn’t being discreet, why was his Notoriety increasing so slowly?
After thinking it over, he suspected the problem was that he never left his real name behind.
Hiding one’s identity was practically instinct for criminals.
Kingpin was a perfect example.
Most gangsters in New York didn’t even know his real name.
It was safer that way, sure.
But it also meant his Notoriety remained pitifully low.
Jason hesitated for a moment before making up his mind.
Do a good deed, and there’s no need to leave your name.
Commit a crime, and you damn well better sign it.
Jason picked up one of the bikers’ severed arms.
Using the blood that was still warm, he wrote a line across the pavement.
THE KILLER IS JW!