Half an hour later.
Tristan Hayes was sitting in some roadside diner, being a normal, law-abiding citizen. The disassembled rifle was lying in his backpack, and he had cleaned his scratches in another diner's bathroom. His shirt was pretty bloody, but his jacket mostly covered it.
Although he was in a public place, there was no one in his earshot—the diner was almost empty at the moment. Even the cashier wasn't paying Tristan any mind.
The trophy phone was on the table in front of him.
It had a password.
Tristan couldn't do anything about it. Even if the hacking skill was on sale today, he was all out of Criminal Points!
He still had no idea who the guy on the roof was. But he certainly was skilled, and even the Second Identity System appreciated it.
'Does this mean I will get more points in the future if I impress people who are pros at something? Does it have to be related to what I impress them with, specifically? I impressed plenty of people in the Good Lion Bar with my music. Even Leon Clavon! I'm sure that they had high skills in something gangster-related. But I don't think that gave me more points than oppressing other people.'
Tristan wished dearly that his system had clearer documentation attached than a brief FAQ. Something like an entire wiki. Or if it could reply to him.
Although if there was an actually sentient thing living rent-free in his head… No, thanks. Tristan definitely preferred his current one.
Tristan huffed in irritation and put the shooter's phone away. Instead, he pulled out his own and called Pierce.
"Hayes. What is it?"
"I've done what you asked. There was a complication, though, and I didn't catch his name."
"I see. Very well. Come to the bar when you can, and we will talk in more detail."
"Will do, Mr. Pierce."
When the call ended, Tristan wondered if he would have time to get home and shower first.
Well, Pierce wasn't specific about the time, although he probably wouldn't be happy about being kept waiting.
***
[Ding!]
[You had impressed an audience of 13 thousand people online with your performance. Reward: your CP increased by 1500!]
The notification caught with Tristan on the way to the bar. Too late to matter, but it was still nice to see.
Inside the bar, Tristan was immediately invited into Pierce's office.
It only took Pierce a glance to notice Tristan's wounds.
"Ah. So that's what you meant by a complication, Hayes. What happened?"
After Tristan told what happened and showed the trophy phone, Pierce nodded in understanding.
"I imagine this man was a hired gun. Quixada didn't want to escalate hostilities between our gangs, so this is a natural choice. If you took him out, no one would've missed him. But it's good that you didn't—it never hurts to be too careful. As for the phone, give it to me. A specialist might try finding something interesting there, although I doubt there is anything."
Tristan nodded.
He realized still lacked experience in the larger criminal world. Otherwise, he would've come to Pierce's conclusions by himself.
Now he wondered if the mercenary would return to finish the job. However, he felt it was unlikely.
Quixada didn't have a good reason to attack Tristan anymore, although he certainly won't like Tristan more after today. And the mercenary himself was impressed with Tristan's skills—this probably meant he won't dare to fight.
The mercenary also had to recover from the concussion Tristan gave him first.
"Anyway, Hayes, if you are injured, go to a medic. I will give you contacts of a reliable man who patches up members of our organization."
Tristan shook his head.
Back at home, he cleaned and bandaged the scratches. However, even before that, they had already stopped bleeding, probably thanks to his high toughness.
"I'm fine, Mr. Pierce," Tristan said with a wave of his hand, playing up his self-assured gangster persona.
"Are you? That's good. I felt like you were being idle for too long because of this story with Cuatro Angulos. I didn't hire you just to pay you a salary, you know."
Pierce fixed his glasses and gave Tristan a sharp look.
"One of my people got sick, so I need a replacement for a couple of days. You will guard a warehouse for me. It will be an excellent opportunity to make sure that Quixada really got off your back, too."
A couple of days… Tristan hoped this will fit with his second job schedule.
Outwardly, he only shrugged slightly.
"Alright, Mr. Pierce. Where and when?"
Pierce explained the details of the job. After he said that Tristan only had to stay there for 8 hours per shift, and his shifts were in the morning, he was immediately relieved.
Besides that, there wasn't much to speak about. Tristan got a printout of details and instructions to arrive at the place tomorrow.
***
Next day, in another place.
Quixada read Ranger's report, feeling angrier and angrier with every word.
[Mr. Quixada, I can't fulfill my part of the contract. The target was too strong, and I'm currently healing. I have returned the payment you gave me.]
There weren't many words, but he was still livid after reading this.
The assassin didn't even bother to appear before Quixada's eyes, sending an email instead. What an insult!
'These damned whites can't do anything right! And the thug who asked for my help died as well. Pathetic! Now I look like someone tripped me and I fell face-first into a dog turd!'
The man, so large and powerful, could only helplessly clench his fists. He couldn't afford to attack Tristan Hayes again anymore. His own superiors would feed him to the fishes for that.
'Damn you, Hayes!'
***
Tristan was leaning on a wall of a warehouse, being bored out of his mind on his boring guard job, when he heard another ding.
[Ding!]
[You have slapped the face of a powerful person. Reward: your PP increased by 500!]