09.
The footsteps of the leader of the Mephisto Gang quickened as he walked through the dimly lit street.
His nerves were on edge, tuned to the sound of a rapidly approaching car engine.
Most vehicles released in recent years operated on pure electric motors or, at the very least, hybrid systems combining internal combustion engines and electric motors. With global oil prices skyrocketing and environmental concerns gaining critical attention, traditional gasoline and diesel vehicles had lost their former glory.
Older internal combustion engine vehicles, burdened with heavy environmental taxes and maintenance costs, had nearly disappeared—even in impoverished neighborhoods. Those who could afford a car in these areas usually opted for economical second-hand hybrids, rather than touching an old, fuel-hungry internal combustion engine vehicle.
Ironically, such vehicles had found favor among affluent individuals in high society. The unique inefficiency of these cars was no problem for those with wealth to spare, and many elites indulged in nostalgia for their younger, wilder days by maintaining collections of classic cars.
Of course, some poorer individuals managed to own internal combustion vehicles, albeit under rare circumstances: perhaps finding one dirt cheap, or salvaging and repairing a car from a junkyard. In backstreets where diverse groups congregated, these older vehicles could occasionally be spotted parked along the roadside.
Even so, the car trailing the Mephisto Gang leader stood out. Its pristine condition was far superior to the rusted and battered relics typically seen. The bumper was intact, the paint unscathed, and the windows spotless.
Even for a modest model, such immaculate preservation would make a car enthusiast in affluent neighborhoods salivate.
That fact alone filled the gang leader with urgency.
Keeping an old vehicle in that condition required significant resources. Resources suggested ties to a corporation—and being pursued by a corporation spelled serious trouble.
The leader cursed under his breath.
He had taken every precaution to keep his identity hidden from external forces. During the early days of the Mephisto Gang, when manpower was scarce, he had occasionally fought on the front lines. But as the gang grew, his role shifted. He became a strategist, commanding operations from behind the scenes.
This reclusive lifestyle helped keep his identity safe. On rare occasions like today, when he had to leave his hideout, he took precautions, switching his implanted chip to offline mode to minimize data leaks.
In short, it should have been nearly impossible for a corporation to pinpoint his identity and close in on him.
Yet, as he cautiously glanced back, his fears were confirmed.
The trailing sedan wasn't even trying to be subtle anymore. It openly followed him, its driver window rolled down.
And sticking out of that open window was a heavy revolver.
"...Shit!"
Bang!
The moment he saw the gun barrel aimed at him, the leader instinctively dove to the side. A bullet screamed past where he had been standing, grazing his collar before slamming into a shop wall.
BOOM!
"?!"
The wall, struck by the bullet, exploded in a fiery burst, crumbling into debris.
Thrown onto the roadside by the blast's shockwave, the leader quickly recovered and scrambled to his feet.
"Goddamn it..."
From his jacket's inner pocket, he pulled out two plasma pistols, their cold grips fitting snugly in his hands. Without hesitation, he aimed at the sedan's windshield and opened fire.
Wuuuung!
The plasma weapons emitted their signature electronic hum as brilliant blue flashes erupted.
"Gunfire! Get down!"
"Ahhh!"
The sudden firefight sent nearby pedestrians into a frenzy. Screams filled the air as they darted into nearby buildings or ducked behind parked cars. Some had already called the police, reporting a shootout in progress.
As panic spread, the leader's plasma pistols grew hotter, their barrels glowing red as they spat rapid, searing beams of energy.
But the sedan had already tilted its body at an angle, minimizing its exposure. The car's armor, designed to withstand extreme heat, deflected the plasma bursts with ease.
Clink!
"!"
It wasn't the windshield that shattered, but the passenger window.
The gang leader barely had time to react before a revolver barrel emerged from the broken glass and roared.
Bang!
BOOM!
"Urghhh!"
The .50 caliber explosive round tore through the leader's left arm, reducing it to shredded flesh below the elbow. Shards of metal and concrete embedded themselves in his body, leaving him bleeding and gasping in pain.
The blast had also disabled his digital mask and cloaking jacket, leaving him visibly clad in the signature white uniform of the Mephisto Gang.
As the leader knelt on one knee, clutching his mangled arm, the sedan door swung open, and a man in a sleek black suit stepped out.
It was Hugo, a bounty hunter. He casually blew away the smoke wafting from his revolver and sauntered toward the injured leader.
"Hey, you're with the Mephisto Gang, aren't you?"
"...Who sent you?"
Whack!
The leader's head snapped to the side as Hugo struck him with the butt of his revolver.
"Hey, asshole, I'm the one asking questions here." Hugo glared down at him, his annoyance barely masked. The murderous intent in his gaze made it clear that he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.
Despite his injuries, the leader met Hugo's gaze without flinching.
"Yeah... I'm with the Mephisto Gang. Now let me ask: who sent you?"
"What's it to you? Anyway, if you don't want your head blown off, you'd better take me to your hideout. Now."
"Corporate lackey... Figures."
The leader chuckled bitterly, as if this outcome had been inevitable. Hugo scratched the back of his head, seemingly frustrated.
Turning to the sedan, Hugo called out to someone inside.
"Hey, miss! This guy's onto us. Don't try shortchanging me later because of this!"
[...Finish the job, Hugo. Payment will be made as agreed.]
"Phew, good to hear. Almost thought I'd be eating the cost of my ammo."
Relieved, Hugo wiped his brow theatrically before turning back to the gang leader. But as his gaze landed on him, his eyes widened in shock.
The leader's body was emanating a strange blue glow, and Hugo instinctively stepped back. The leader's fist lashed out, sending a gust of wind that knocked Hugo off balance.
Quickly regaining his footing, Hugo frowned.
"...You're packing military-grade implants, aren't you?"
The leader didn't answer. Instead, he forced himself upright and assumed a combat stance.
Hugo's revolver remained steady, but his tone betrayed his unease.
"Damn it, man... That wasn't in the contract. How about we reschedule this fight?"
Military-grade implants were dangerous.
Designed for elite soldiers, they provided unparalleled enhancements but came with severe risks. Without the rigorous training and conditioning required for military use, civilians who received such implants often suffered catastrophic consequences.
In combat mode, the implants unleashed massive computational power and biological enhancements, far exceeding what an ordinary human body could handle. Civilians typically lasted no more than three minutes before their brains succumbed to the overload.
If the body didn't outright collapse, the implants would take over, driving the user into a berserk state where they attacked anything that moved.
"Ah, hell..."
And now, one of these human bombs was charging straight at Hugo.
There was no time to hesitate.
Bang!
Hugo's .50 caliber revolver roared, the muzzle flash illuminating the chaotic battlefield as the gang leader, glowing with a dangerous blue aura, closed the distance with terrifying speed.