A thrift store? He thought as he stepped in, and luck was once again on his side, as it was basically empty of people and only one of the staff was at the counter, who looked like he hated his own life, which was a good thing because his plan was, if anybody asked him what the fuck that red thing on him was, he would have said red wine.
Should I be dripped out?
[System: Change the style so you are harder to identify.]
Well, my face is going to be identifiable no matter what. He thought as he tried on a brown t-shirt.
[System: It still matters, especially right now. You need to make a difference between what you were and what you are right now.]
What do you an by that?
[System: Just hours ago, you were nobody, but now, with the card and what you have done, you are finally sobody. A killer on the run to be precise.]
Ohh, so I beca sobody because I killed Hoffa? That is weird logic and fucking fifty bucks for a plain brown shirt, what the fuck is this thrift store.
[System: Maybe weird, but it is the reality and you are still nowhere near being a cartel leader, you’re still alone.]
Well, I was alone my whole life. Maybe Jessica was the one I looked happy with; I genuinely enjoyed her company. He smiled, but the System didn’t even respond because it was once again a circle going around and around. But at least César was right about it, though in another aning than how the System itself ant it.
He smiled, but the System didn’t even respond, because it was once again a circle going back to Jessica, though César thought he was right about it.
He was always alone and would always be alone in the aning of emotions, friends, girlfriend, wife, or any attachnt. He didn’t need it, and he would never need it, which is kind of what changed him to be this way. Like his only friend is the System, and it has always been that way.
The System was and would always be with him in every single mont, every second of his life, experiencing what he experienced. Maybe that’s why the System hates Jessica... because when César was laying the pipe into Jessica, the System was there too. When César was pounding her, the System kept reminding him to be careful of his heart rate... now that is funny.
But in the broad aning, it was also extrely sad. Not a single friend, not a single girlfriend, or anything like that. Because why would there be?
No one ever stayed... they always died and emotionally anchoring himself to sobody was always the wrong move, because the mont he let himself care, the mont he let himself feel, he would be tempted to act mindlessly if sothing happened, and that could lead to consequences that were nothing short of catastrophic. He knew it. He had seen it a hundred tis in the movies and TV series he watched, and even in so real docuntaries about drug lords and the mafia.
Every story, every ti, ended the sa way. Sobody close to the boss was killed, and from there a fucking avalanche started.
Emotions were let out into the world, and suddenly revenge turned out to be the end.
Anyone who emotionally attached themselves to another person, anyone who allowed themselves to care too deeply, they paid the price.
That’s why César had learned to feel nothing, because everybody wanted it.
The police, the agencies, and the military all wanted it. That was their way of baiting criminals into acting. They killed parents, loved ones, just to push them into revenge, and when that revenge ca, what followed was complete annihilation. Everybody jumped in like it was a fucking trophy hunt.
The NSA, the police, the military police, all the fucking agencies raced each other to see who would be the one showing it off, who would be standing over the dead bodies of the mafia and cartel leaders and their n.
That’s exactly why César himself was always called cold and emotionless, even toward his own people. Ten died, and he did nothing. His underboss died, and he did nothing. Because acting out of rage and anger only brings chaos, and it also leads to disloyalty if your cartel sees that you don’t stand up for them. So he countered it in a more effective way.
If the police or any governnt law enforcent killed one of his mbers, he didn’t attack them directly. Instead, he went after the criminals who were working with them, fucking their shit up.
But every single life was different, every single one of them differently bad, yet he stayed with it. He never anchored himself to anybody.
"I’m dripped out," César said, standing in the changing booth staring at his reflection. He put on a white T-shirt with matching white denim shorts patterned with the sa flowers, and on his feet, a pair of clean white sneakers.
Though the blood was still on his arms and his hands, even if he tried his best to clean it down, not even talking about the sll itself.
[System: I advise you to buy a cap and sunglasses too. There are caras everywhere.]
"Yes, I saw the sunglasses at the counter, as well as the caps."
[System: Then before leaving, I advise you to open the System Store and look around.]
"What?!" César’s voice suddenly went high-pitched like never before. "Open it right now!"
His excitent was almost on the sa level as when he got the Red Rarity card, and of course it was, because the System Store was like another cheat code, ammunition, equipnt for drug production, literally a black market that had helped César countless tis, though there was a problem with it
"What... the fuck is this...?"
[System: A suprise.]
"I-I need to be level... fifty to buy anything...?"
[System: Different Sandira, different reality, different settings.]
That confused face was just perfect, because now another way was easy—just because a cartel lord had closed his door.
"What is my level?"
[System: After completing the Special Event, you are now Level 10.]
"You motherfucker..."
[System: I can’t be a motherfucker. I don’t have a physical form. Second, this at least gives you the opportunity to explore the real black market and connect with people, make more deals, spread your na, make deals. This is a great opportunity.]
Perhaps, in the end, both the System and this peaceful Sandria are César’s greatest enemies... or, well, not really, because sowhere else, so people were already plotting against him.
"Send two contractors, not our own." An old man’s voice ca from the cigarette smoke filled room.
"Are you sure about this, sir?" A younger voice asked. "He might be a DCA agent—"
"Dana fucked up the mont she dealt with Hoffa. I’m certain he kept a dossier, voice recordings, pictures, in case sothing happened to him. If that gets out before the mayoral election, the city will fall into Vienna’s hands. So get that man. Make him talk. Find the dossier. Then we’re done and Dana wins the election."
"What about the pri minister? Should I notify him or not?"
"No. It’s obvious he wants this." The old man looked up. "Just think about it. If it cos out that a mber of his party, who’s running for the mayor’s seat of the capital, had her hand in drug deals, that’s already bad enough. But on top of that, with the very police chief he endorsed? If that happens, it becos clear the opposition will take the capital. So send them now."
Maybe César’s recklessness is the way to go... from a nobody to suddenly becoming a political threat.
That is crazy work, though what’s crazier is that he decided to do it.
[System Gamble accepted: Russian Roulette, a revolver with one bullet. Spin the cylinder at least three tis, then gamble with your life.]
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