Wenna was grabbed by the nightclub manager and slamd against the wall.
Her cheek was slapped, her abdon punched, nosebleed mixed with saliva flew out, and her whole head was dizzy.
"F*ck you, b*tch!"
The man was burly, with three studs embedded on his thick lips, slowly leaning close to her ear.
"Who do you think you’re talking to? I’ll break your legs and make you learn to serve custors slowly..."
Wenna could feel a tongue sweeping across her forehead.
The wound was blistering hot.
She felt nauseous and terrified inside.
Swoosh—
Bodyguards in suits in the alley had already drawn out batons.
Wenna scread, her legs kicking repeatedly, and images of her knees being smashed and thrown into a waterproof bag appeared in her mind.
She was held down tightly, her hair ssy.
The tal baton swung up, about to make a whistling sound, but the hand holding the weapon blasted into a pulp in mid-air.
"Ah—F*ck! Damn, hiss, f—"
The thug scread heart-wrenchingly, holding onto his severed hand, trembling all over.
Blood splattered on the wall and puddle, and the shattered mirror reflected the halo of a distant sign, where a person could be seen in the blurry shards.
John initiated a scan, confirming the girl being abducted was Wenna.
She was a bartender at Tipsy Bikini, with short blonde hair, like a tomboy, wearing a familiar little suit and vest with straps.
John often saw her standing at the reception when he went to see Angelica.
Wenna was now tear-streaked, gasping, her head held firmly.
The nightclub manager was a bald, burly man.
A stretch of fluorescent tattoos climbed from his forehead to the back of his head, and the muscles bulged from the neckline to the shoulders.
"John..."
He recognized the shooter, frowned and stood up, grasping Wenna’s hair in his palm like a wild weed.
"Listen, buddy, this has nothing to do with you."
"Alright, give her to , let’s pretend we never saw each other."
John shrugged, seeming uninterested, also indicating he only brought a silenced pistol.
The thug with the severed arm instantly beca enraged.
"Never saw each other? You f*cking think this is..."
Bang!
The gun fired.
He fell flat, his wrist and forehead simultaneously bleeding.
John spread his hands again, the gun muzzle slightly pointing towards the corpse.
"He doesn’t know , right? You recruit a lot of newcors, but their temper and wit aren’t great, how can they talk like that with rcenaries?"
The bald burly man squinted his eyes, looking sowhat displeased.
John’s voice was weak, speaking as if joking, but this Lone Wolf rcenary didn’t hesitate to fire.
"I thought you were on our side."
The nightclub manager released Wenna, his tone becoming very serious.
John didn’t answer, staring at his fleshy face, searching for a na in his mind.
The bald man’s face full of horizontal flesh ford a smile with a cruel feel.
"We’ve never crossed paths, I am Camper, used to manage the Sex Doll Club on Bolago’s top floor, now reassigned as manager at Tipsy Bikini, heard you’re a regular there?"
He noticed more details about John:
Pale complexion, weak tone, with an arm not covered by synthetic leather, completely looking like soone newly recovered from a serious illness.
It had been half a month since Bolago Club exploded.
Angelica was taken away by the ergency team, likely still receiving treatnt at an affiliated hospital sowhere.
But unexpectedly...
The Black Gold Gang took over her assets so quickly.
The new manager in front of him nad Camper was not friendly, and Wenna working in the bar evidently wasn’t having a good ti.
"Hey, John, they still talk about your stories on West District streets, we do need to talk, right?"
Camper spread his large hand, enclosing Wenna’s head.
"She owes us debts, hasn’t t her targets, dealing with noncompliant employees is my job, ah, my guys indeed aren’t polite enough, let’s wrap this up, I’ll treat you to a few drinks, West District girls haven’t seen you for a while..."
John shook his head, not letting him continue speaking.
Camper sighed regretfully.
Tat tat tat tat—
A sudden burst of gunfire echoed at the alley entrance!
A few Black Gold Gang mbers hiding behind for a long ti pulled the trigger.
The continuous muzzle flashes briefly illuminated the alley, also destroyed everything including trash cans.
John flashed and appeared in front of the shooters, his pupils gleaming faintly, leaving a trail in the acceleration of Sianweistan.
He only kicked and broke one person’s neck.
The bullets fired during the ti pause followed closely.
The two gunn on either side raised their heads.
Visually, it seed like three people were simultaneously knocked down.
The thug beside Camper also fired.
They emptied bullets, but amidst the corpse-laden ground there was no sign of John, a comrade shot brutally swayed and fell.
Click.
From the deepest part of the alley ca the sound of sothing dropping.
Everyone including Camper turned around, just in ti to see John inserting a new magazine into the chamber, slowly chambering a round.
[Weapon: Silence]
[Module: Level III Silencer, Advanced Penetration]
Advanced bullets pierced through the gang thug’s sunglasses.
The gleaming mirror shattered in mid-air, mixed with blood and a relatively intact eyeball falling into the puddle.
Camper, along with the remaining people, rushed to the front.
John put away his gun, seized a mont to reach out, grabbed one thug by the neck and forcibly turned him.
Camper lunged.
His hands, wider than a normal person’s head, rged and fell heavily with montum, aided by his weight.
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