"Goddamn it!"
Inside the hidden laboratory, Luther roared in frustration. His office was in complete disarray—chipped wood, a shattered chair, and papers scattered everywhere.
The cause of his fury? Sothing Strauss had done in the past few days. After Strauss and his people investigated Luther’s penthouse, he had been forced to go into hiding for his own safety.
During that ti, he had sent Mauler to eliminate a loose end—those third-rate hackers in the Fringe.
But it turned out Mauler had fallen into a trap, set by an anonymous individual Luther didn’t recognize. And why was he so sure it wasn’t Shadow Thief, his usual enemy? Because Shadow Thief didn’t have the skill to pull off sothing like this ambush.
After all, even with all his security-breaching talents, Shadow Thief was just that—a thief. The man was never a warrior or an assassin. Sure, there was that one ti Shadow Thief pulled off an assassination, but that had only worked because Luther had severely underestimated him—and Shadow Thief had been unusually lucky.
After that incident, Shadow Thief never ca close to replicating such a feat again.
But the one who ambushed Mauler? He was professional, decisive, and ruthless. He’d prepared in advance, knew their route, and tid the attack perfectly—leaving Mauler with no opportunity to turn the tables.
To be fair, based on the footage provided by his spy, the report he read, and the analysis from the Echelon’s analysts, Luther concluded that if the man in black armor had fought Mauler head-on, there was a very high chance Mauler would have won.
Unfortunately... there are no "what ifs" in this world. Only regrets.
And as if that weren’t bad enough, things got worse—much worse. Without warning, Strauss suddenly got his hands on critical data. He even knew the na of Luther’s organization!
Strauss halted his entire election campaign and sohow got high-level clearance from the UEC to issue an arrest warrant!
Now, Luther’s carefully constructed plan to beco governor—one the Echelon had been setting in motion for years—was completely ruined!
Now! Now he had no choice but to pivot, to enact a new plan... But he had been preparing for a long ti. There was no way he was going to give up now!
"Strauss... and that man in black armor... Just you wait! This won’t be the last ti!" Luther growled, gritting his teeth.
— anwhile – Maximilian’s House —
Maximilian had stayed in his house for the past two days—no... "days" wasn’t the right word. It should have been years.
He had called over the Ricardo Group, activated a Temporal Overlay inside his house, and began training them. He even bought several pieces of gym equipnt and placed them in the basent for the group to train and build muscle.
During this compressed ti of two years, he had taught them everything he knew—especially close-quarters combat (CQC), knife fighting, and firearms training. It could be said that, aside from real combat experience, Maximilian had passed on everything he had to Ricardo and his group.
If the Ricardo of today were to et his forr self from before the training, he would crush that version ten tis over.
Even though his intention was to train them to help spread his influence in the city (and maybe make so side money), he still felt the group might not be completely ready. What would they do if they ran into a thug with a gun?
So Maximilian decided to equip the group with so handguns and ammunition as well.
Today marked the completion of the two-year compressed tiline inside his house—and the end of their training.
Ricardo and his group stood tall in the basent, ready for assignnt. The grueling two-year training inside Maximilian’s house had transford them into real warriors.
Ricardo never imagined that such a technology could exist—sothing that compressed ti within a confined space, making ti pass more slowly compared to the outside world. One day outside was equivalent to an entire year inside.
Moreover, their new boss had housed and fed them throughout this entire period. In that ti, they had co to trust Maximilian completely—and they were now ready to work for him.
They might not have been the brightest bunch, but Ricardo and his brothers knew full well that what Maximilian had taught them was sothing no ordinary street thug would ever get the chance to learn.
"Boss!" Ricardo said with determination the mont he saw Maximilian walk down into the basent to check on them.
"Boss, we’re ready for anything you want us to do! Please, just say the word!" one of Ricardo’s brothers added eagerly. They knew the training they had received wasn’t ant for street fights.
What they had learned was fit for a special forces unit. What kind of lunatic teaches full CQC, knife fighting, marksmanship, and physical conditioning to a bunch of forr street rats? Now, their bodies were lean and muscular—they believed that if they returned to the streets like this, they could dominate, even terrorize other gangs.
Hearing this, Maximilian tilted his head. "What are you talking about? Assignnt? Do you think you’re going into a warzone or sothing?" he asked, as if they’d just said sothing ridiculous.
Ricardo and his group didn’t reply. They simply stood at attention, ready to receive their orders.
Seeing how tense they were, Maximilian didn’t know what to say. A glance at the floating data above their heads showed their loyalty scores ranged from 80 to 90, with Ricardo topping out at 95—the highest.
Noting that they were still stiff and nervous, Maximilian let out a long sigh.
"Relax, folks. The reason I trained you wasn’t to turn you into cannon fodder. I just didn’t want you ending up as corpses in the street while working for . I’m not sending you to any battlefield or the Wildlands," Maximilian clarified then continued.
"I just want you to do what you did before—collect protection fees," said Maximilian.
"Huh?" Ricardo and his group were dumbfounded. Collect protection fees? Are you kidding , boss? All that training was just for this!?
"Why are you looking at like that? Yes, collect protection fees... and this ti, you guys actually need to protect the custors who pay!" said Maximilian.
"Huh?"
"Don’t ’huh’ , you idiot! What kind of protection fee is it if they pay and you guys don’t protect them? We’re not scamrs. If they pay us, we protect them! That ans not leaving the custors to fend for themselves when so brute cos around bothering their store."
"Huh? Err... boss," Ricardo raised his hand, "wasn’t a protection fee sothing shop owners paid us so we wouldn’t trash their store? Isn’t it supposed to be like that?"
"What are you blabbering about!? Ricardo, if we act like other gangs, how are we going to build brand loyalty with the shop owners!? I want those shop owners to think only of us when it cos to paying protection fees! They need to believe that it’s better to pay us than paying to those common street thugs!" Maximilian declared.
Brand loyalty!? Is there sohting like that in this kind of business? Aren’t we suppose to be gangs and not corpos?
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