Outside the truck.
Dozens of Siracusan Lupos in fedoras and trench coats surrounded the box van in a tight ring, crossbows and daggers in hand.
The nearby residents had already scattered at the first sign of trouble—no one dared linger.
"Boss, it's done. Do we try to talk them down, or do we hit them hard?"
A lackey approached the leader—a male Vulpo—and asked for the next move.
"Talk them down, of course. Those guys make a few thousand a month—why would they risk their lives? Fire two shots into the air so it looks like we did our job. That's enough to justify the paycheck."
The Vulpo leader spoke with genuine sorrow. "My third brother didn't understand that. He went all-in against the LGD, and they beat him to death. You can't fight to the death! If you're dead, how are you supposed to make money?"
That "third brother," of course, was the unlucky bastard who'd been blown up by his own people back at Heyez Warehouse.
But the LGD never published details about the suspect's cause of death or the capture process, so most people simply assumed the LGD messed up and killed him on the spot.
And nobody bothered digging deeper. Human trafficker? Who cares—whatever.
The lackey had good instincts and immediately said, "Boss, please accept my condolences!"
"Words don't do anything," the Vulpo snapped. "Make other people mourn too! Once my big brother's experiment succeeds, I'm going to take out the entire LGD and bury them with my third brother!"
He extended his hand. The lackey instantly passed him a megaphone.
"The people inside the vehicle, listen up! You are surrounded! Put down your weapons immediately! Do not resist! Think about your family—your loved ones—your children!"
If you didn't know better, you'd think an LGD officer was negotiating with criminals.
After speaking, the Vulpo casually tossed the megaphone back to the lackey and waited for the armed personnel inside to lay down their weapons and surrender.
Yes—he was that confident.
They were a fair distance from the LGD. Even if the police rushed over, it would take at least ten minutes. And he'd gathered a combat team largely made up of Siracusan gang muscle—no need to spell out the disparity.
On top of that, the target vehicle couldn't move. Vision was limited. They could only turtle up inside.
No matter how you looked at it, surrendering seemed like the better ending.
After all, if the truck didn't contain something they wanted, one grenade would've been enough to turn everyone inside into drifting ash.
Inside the truck.
"Leave it to you?" Anthony brightened. "Oh—so you brought smoke grenades and flashbangs, right?"
He slid the bulletproof window open a tiny crack—
—and saw more than forty Siracusan gangsters outside, fully deployed.
And there were only four of them inside.
Non-lethal gear like smoke and flashbangs clearly wasn't enough to flip the board.
Anthony grimaced. "No way. They've got too many people. We should surrender. I even wore white underwear today—someone find me a stick so I can wave it."
"We can't surrender."
Su Yi pressed a hand onto Anthony's shoulder, urging him not to give up.
"Our boss is a good penguin. If we surrender because we're outmatched, he won't blame us. He'll grab his gear and help us get our pride back."
He looked Anthony in the eye.
"But you? You know what your boss is like better than I do. If he finds out you handed over the cargo without firing a single shot… do you think you'll still be able to survive in this line of work?"
"And that Lungmen residency permit—have you gotten it yet? If you haven't, this kind of stain on your record will make it even harder to get later."
Anthony slumped. "But there are only four of us, and they've got dozens. If we fight and end up dead—what then?!"
Compared to your life, residency permits and reputation didn't mean anything.
Only by staying alive did you have a future.
Su Yi said, "And how do you know they aren't just tricking you? They're offering surrender because you still have weapons. Once you've handed everything over, why would they waste time talking? Besides… we may not actually be weaker than them."
Hope reignited in Anthony's eyes. "You're one of the Godblooded?!"
On Terra, there had always been a distinction between the "godblooded" and the "firstborn."
The firstborn were people like Anthony the Perro, or Texas the Lupo—there were exceptional individuals, sure, but most were ordinary.
The godblooded were different. Noble bloodlines. Superhuman strength. In ancient times they stood above all races, and everyone else could only serve as their slaves.
Even in modern society, the godblooded still sat a cut above.
Like the Vouivre.
Left fist: high damage. Right fist: even higher damage. Jump from a hundred meters without armor and walk away unscathed—numbers so absurd you'd swear the game designers had lost their minds.
So on Terra, nobody shouted "Are kings and nobles born different?"—because, frankly, they are.
If Su Yi really were godblooded, carving a path out might not be impossible!
"I'm not godblooded," Su Yi said calmly. "But I can still cover everyone's retreat and get us out safely."
"If you're putting it like that, what can I even say?" Anthony gritted his teeth. "Retreating is still better than surrendering. Let's do it!"
"Let's do it!" James echoed.
Su Yi nodded once. "Then from here on out, all actions follow my commands. No objections?"
"No objections!"
With everyone aligned, Su Yi pulled the pin on a smoke grenade and tossed it through the firing port. Thick smoke swallowed the entire van within seconds.
They couldn't see out.
And outside, they couldn't see in.
Then Su Yi clicked off the safety on his semi-automatic rifle, extended the barrel through the firing port—
He might not be a stat-monster like the godblooded…
…but he was a mechanics-monster.
[An Unrefusable Stroke of Luck]
"Worried I'll go back on my word and use this to escape?" the Vulpo muttered when he saw the smoke grenade. He was about to warn his men not to move rashly and let the van withdraw—
When the crack of gunfire exploded down the street like thunder.
Not only were they refusing to surrender—they were actually shooting back?
So they wouldn't drink the toast… fine. Then they'd drink the punishment.
The people inside were idiots, weren't they? Shooting with zero visibility was nothing but wasted bullets—
"AAAGH!"
"Holy—how is he this accurate?!"
"DOWN! Everyone, get down!"
"My bone—my bone's broken!"
"Siracusan profanity!"
But that accuracy was beyond anything the Vulpo leader could've imagined.
In the space of a few breaths, more than a dozen Siracusan gang members were hit and dropped, instantly removed from the fight.
"Do they have a drone giving them vision?!" the Vulpo shouted, jerking his head up.
Blue sky. Light wind. Not a drone in sight.
Hearing the rising chorus of screams outside, Su Yi knew the opening had landed. He barked orders immediately:
"Move! Out of the truck! James—you solo-hold the rear. Anthony—you stick to me and keep me covered—"
Texas asked, "And me?"
Su Yi paused for a fraction of a second, then committed to a blind read:
"The enemy leader is… ahead! Once you break the perimeter, hook around from the right and take his head. I'll cover you. Now—out!"
The moment the words fell, all four of them flung the doors open and surged into the smoke like demons crawling out of a fog bank.
The flank that should've pinned them down had already collapsed from Su Yi's blind firing—no longer capable of causing them trouble.
Anthony couldn't help blurting, "You hit that many? Where'd you buy your cheats? I want to turn one on too."
I sell DMA hardware.
This is straight-up aimbot.
-------
My : pat*eon*com/RuneA
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