Marcus looked genuinely surprised when Axel Vance asked to use the hidden federal facility’s shooting range. He rested one hand on the rifle he had been cleaning and said, "You can use it, but doesn’t the Miami Police Department already have its own range?" Axel obviously could not tell him that every round fired could potentially become system experience, so he let his eyes wander toward the impressive wall of weapons behind the armorer.
"Honestly, I’ve always liked firearms," Axel said, putting enough enthusiasm into his voice to sound convincing. "That was one of the reasons I entered the police academy in the first place, but you know how department inventory works. Most officers get standard-issue equipment, while everything in this room looks like somebody actually cared about making it perform well."
Marcus’s beard shifted as a grin spread across his face. Axel had apparently found exactly the right subject to win him over. "Now you’re speaking my language. Most of these aren’t ordinary rack guns because I’ve personally tuned almost every one of them."
The two spent several minutes talking about actions, triggers, sights, barrels, and recoil before Marcus enthusiastically led Axel deeper into the facility. The reinforced shooting range was far larger than the one beneath Miami Police headquarters and included lanes suitable for pistols, shotguns, submachine guns, and rifles. Marcus began laying out weapons with the excitement of a collector finally meeting someone who appreciated his collection.
Axel started with handguns and worked his way upward. Gunfire echoed continuously as magazines emptied and brass bounced across the concrete floor, while Marcus initially stood nearby offering comments about grip pressure, trigger reset, and the personality of each weapon. Axel listened politely while letting the system turn every minute of practice into progress.
After finishing one pistol, Axel immediately picked up a Beretta and continued. From there he moved through compact submachine guns, full-size rifles, pump-action shotguns, and several weapons Marcus clearly considered personal favorites. The noise barely stopped long enough for magazines to be replaced.
Marcus’s enthusiasm gradually changed into confusion.
Then concern.
Then complete disbelief.
By the time spent casings had formed a thick layer around Axel’s boots, Marcus finally raised one hand and said, "Axel, you know you’re allowed to take a break, right? Water still exists." Axel shook his head, reached for another submachine gun, and answered that he felt perfectly fine before sending another controlled burst downrange.
The system finally responded after the next stretch of continuous practice.
[Police Marksmanship has reached Lv. 3.]
[Police Marksmanship Lv.3 — MAX]
[Effect: Physique +0.3]
[Maximum-level ability acquired: Non-Lethal Shooting]
[Non-Lethal Shooting: When intentionally aiming at non-vital areas, accuracy is greatly increased.]
Axel lowered the weapon slowly as a familiar sensation spread through his body. The Physique bonus from Police Marksmanship had increased from +0.2 to +0.3, giving him another small physical improvement, but the greater change was inside his perception. His understanding of distance, recoil, timing, and weapon movement suddenly felt far more natural.
He raised the pistol again and fired several controlled shots at a distant target. What previously required deliberate adjustment now seemed almost instinctive, and the sights returned to alignment with noticeably less effort after every round. Under favorable conditions, Axel felt confident he could maintain excellent accuracy at distances approaching a hundred meters.
More importantly, Non-Lethal Shooting gave him something ordinary marksmanship training could never guarantee. If Axel deliberately aimed for a shoulder, arm, thigh, or another non-vital area, the system would significantly improve his chances of placing the shot where he intended. For police work, that ability could become more valuable than simple killing power.
Marcus stared at the target, then back at Axel. "You told me this was just enthusiasm."
Axel smiled and lowered the hot weapon. "Good instincts."
"That is not good instincts." Marcus shook his head while examining the grouping. "I know firearms instructors who have burned through hundreds of thousands of rounds, and you’re already shooting close to their level."
Axel flexed his wrist. "Maybe your guns really are that good."
Marcus laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "I like you, Vance. Anytime you want range time, come down here, and I’ll make sure you have ammunition."
That was possibly the most beautiful sentence Axel had heard all week.
A short time later, Clarice Starling entered the range and stopped when she saw the battlefield of empty brass covering the floor. She looked at Marcus’s stunned expression, then at Axel, who seemed more refreshed than tired. "I’m guessing you finished warming up."
Axel grinned. "I’m ready."
They returned to the armory and began preparing for the trip to the abandoned record factory. Axel secured his ballistic vest and distributed ammunition across its pouches before checking his sidearm, Remington 870, flashbangs, and the oversized experimental single-shot handgun Marcus had given him. Clarice equipped her own ballistic protection and checked the compact MP5 she had selected earlier.
Axel watched her load magazines and said, "Carry everything useful that you can manage without slowing yourself down. Whoever is behind this already burned your hotel, sent someone into your room, and killed a witness inside our interrogation room." Clarice nodded because they were long past pretending the investigation involved ordinary criminals.
She adjusted the vest around her shoulders. "I didn’t come all the way down here from training just to stand behind someone else when we finally find them." Her determination was obvious, and Axel suspected her ambition to prove herself as an FBI agent had only grown stronger after everything they had survived together.
They left through the laundromat and headed toward Miami’s west side. The city remained every bit as unstable as it had been since Woody’s bounty announcement, and they had barely gone several blocks before a muscle car flew through an intersection with police cruisers pursuing behind it. Gunshots echoed in the distance while Clarice calmly cut through a side street and avoided the entire mess.
After several minutes, Clarice asked, "How many people do you think belong to this cult?" Axel considered the question before shaking his head. "I care less about how many ordinary members they have and more about how many things like Michael Myers they can produce."
The memory of Michael’s mutilated body continuing to move clearly bothered Clarice. "If they really know how to create people like that, we need to stop them before anyone else gets hurt." Axel agreed with the goal, but his expression hardened as he considered what they might encounter inside the factory.
"If they surrender, we take them alive," Axel said. "If they start using guns, rituals, monsters, or anything else that creates an immediate lethal threat, we don’t hesitate." Clarice gave him a brief look before nodding because after Michael Myers and Room 1408, neither of them could afford to assume every hostile suspect would obey normal human limits.
The abandoned record factory appeared near the edge of an older industrial district. Years of neglect had left broken windows, faded signs, weeds growing through cracked pavement, and rust covering nearly every piece of exposed metal. No vehicles or people were visible anywhere nearby.
Axel walked toward the main entrance and found a large rusted padlock hanging from the gate. He wrapped one hand around it and gave the weakened metal a firm pull, causing the lock to snap with a dry crack. Clarice stared briefly at the broken hardware before deciding she had already asked enough questions about his strength.
They entered together and found rows of silent vinyl-pressing equipment stretching across the dark factory floor. Dust covered everything, but many of the old machines still had serial plates and manufacturing markings intact. Clarice consulted the information federal technicians had provided and quickly led Axel toward one specific press.
"This is the one," she said after checking the serial number twice. "The physical marks on Laurie’s record match defects associated with this press." Axel examined the old machine carefully, but nothing about it felt supernatural or unusual.
"The machine probably doesn’t matter," Axel said. "Whatever power is in those records comes from what was recorded on them, not the equipment that pressed the vinyl." Clarice agreed and suggested they stop studying the hardware and start looking for paperwork showing who paid for the production.
They searched offices and storage rooms until they eventually reached what had once been the factory manager’s office. Filing cabinets had rusted shut and rats had chewed through several boxes of documents, but an old ledger remained inside a desk drawer. Clarice carefully lifted it onto the table and began turning through the yellowed pages.
Most entries listed music labels, local businesses, private clients, and quantities produced. Axel watched over her shoulder until one name made both of them stop. Clarice placed one finger beside the entry and read it aloud.
"Client: Shark Renovation Company."
Axel stared at the words.
A renovation company.
The connection immediately made sense.
A normal cult would struggle to enter prisons, hotels, private residences, and other buildings without attracting attention. A construction and renovation company, however, could legally open walls, dig foundations, replace pipes, alter rooms, move equipment, and close entire sections of buildings while everyone nearby assumed the work was routine.
Axel remembered the artificially excavated ground beneath Holden’s prison. Then he pictured the hidden runes inside the walls of Room 1408 and the record that had been playing in Laurie’s childhood home. For the first time, those separate mysteries began fitting together into the same structure.
"Shark Renovation could have worked at all of them," Clarice said quietly. "The prison, the hotel, maybe even houses connected to members of the cult." Axel nodded because if the company records still existed anywhere, they might reveal every location the organization had modified over the years.
A sudden sound interrupted them.
Footsteps.
Slow and deliberate.
Someone was walking through the supposedly empty factory.
Axel immediately closed the ledger and raised one hand toward Clarice. "Stay sharp. We’re not alone." She brought the MP5 into a ready position while Axel moved toward the source of the footsteps.
"Miami Police!" Axel called. "Show yourself."
There was no answer.
The footsteps continued.
Axel followed them through another doorway and entered the large central production floor. Near the opposite side of the open space stood a single figure dressed in long black robes, motionless beneath the hanging remains of old industrial lights. The stranger had his back turned as if he had deliberately been waiting for Axel to arrive.
Axel stopped several yards away while Clarice moved into position behind him. The black-robed man slowly turned, and the hood covering his head kept most of his face hidden in darkness. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse but filled with unmistakable devotion.
"Pure One, you have finally come."
Axel narrowed his eyes.
The cultist spread his arms slightly. "We have waited a very long time for you."
Axel had already endured enough cult speeches for one lifetime. He reached beneath his tactical vest and drew the enormous experimental handgun Marcus had given him, bringing the weapon up with both hands while the robed man was still preparing whatever dramatic speech came next.
"What nonsense."
Axel aimed.
The cultist barely had time to react.
BANG!
The experimental pistol produced a deafening blast that shook dust from the abandoned factory ceiling. The recoil slammed through Axel’s arms while the massive round crossed the open floor with terrifying force and struck the black-robed man.
The cultist fell.
[Power Stone Goal: 500 = +1 Chapter]
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