Around two days after this incident, he was just sitting in his room. Most of everything since the incident had been quiet. So he had some time to think and learn more about this world, that wasn't already inside his memories.
He learned that, in this world there are 7 kingdoms. Pentas, Linus, Dismead, Muiris, Slend, Findheld, Yeltan. Most of these kingdoms were filthy rich, and ultimately, your coins decided your status. So there was a power imbalance inside the kingdoms. And he found out, not really, that the king who had been killed was the king of Pentas.
This killing had made the other kingdoms afraid, so most of the ways into those kingdoms were closed off. But that also meant that he had to stay inside this town. The town being an off branch of Pentas. And he figured out that the teleporters that transfer you to the next town were placed there by the first king of Pentas. That was about all he was told of the kingdoms, but he also found some things out about how being blessed works. If you're a blessed, you are basically entered into a lottery. Every 48 hours you have the chance to enter into a "Level."
These "Levels" are the stepping stones to gaining a card. There are 10 levels for each card, the amount of cards being 3. These levels can take a long time to get, some blessed's spend years and still not gain a card. This sparked a selfish desire in his head, he wanted to gain all 3 cards, no matter what it takes.
And that was all he could find out. No one else had information for him. And so he finally left his room, after thinking about all the new information. He walked down the stairs, into the main floor of the bar. The bar had a new set of workers, since all the others were dead. It also had a new set of patrons who had no idea of the incident, but there were some returning ones who made themselves too drunk to think about anything.
He passed all of these people and made it to the new bartender. "Hello Arthur." He said tiredly. "Hello John." He replied back in a monotone voice. Over the past two days he had gotten to know Arthur. "Drink?" He asked, turning his back to the drinks. "Yeah, just a simple one." Arthur got to work making the drink. "So, do you have anything to do today?" He didn't answer, he didn't want to do anything. He just wanted to stay there at the bar. It was nice and peaceful.
Arthur had finished the drink and handed it to him. They were in silence until Albert came in with his group. "H-Heya John!" They shouted in their normal intoxicated state. "We have a job for you." Albert said, seeming the least drunk. "What job? Is it something you "can't do." He retorted. "Don't get smart with me! But yes it is." Albert handed him a paper that had two people's names on it. "These are your targets. Get them by sundown. The addresses are on the back." He said as he stumbled in place, trying not to fall over. "And one more thing, there is a special weapon in your room, use it." He said, finally ending the conversation.
Albert and his group then left to get more drinks. And now being bored he decided to go ahead and get his task done. He headed back up to his room. He opened his door and saw a big brown case, and a long holster covering most of his bed. He entered the room and opened the case. It was a long rifle plated in black steel. Its parts weren't together but he knew how to put them together. So he assembled the rifle. Piece by piece all the pieces became one.
Under all the parts he saw a pair of rifling gloves, and a whole new outfit. The gloves had slits on his index finger and thumb. And the outfit was just like the one he had now, but it was painted black. The dress shirt had the same golden highlights, but that was all that stayed the same. This new outfit's coat was made of leather and even had a hood. And there was a new piece of clothing that was added. It was a scarf, and was colored like the rest.
It was most likely to cover his face. So he put on all his new clothes, gloves, and the holster, sliding his rifle into it. He took his revolver and put it on his side, but left everything behind. He locked his room and went to room 1. There was one last thing he was told. That room 1 was actually a staircase that led to a roof. He opened the door and followed the staircase up to the roof, making sure the door was closed before he went up.
He made it to the roof, his scarf flourishing in the wind of the night. It was dark and cold but he could still see the roof's of the other buildings. He looked at the paper, both addresses were on the same street as the bar. They were easy to get to for the most part. But just by looking at the first target's place from where he was standing, it wasn't going to be easy to locate him. The entire place was engulfed in a party.
He ran on the rooftops, jumping and dodging different obstacles. Eventually he made it to a good vantage spot. He took out his rifle and aimed at the party. The rifles scope had extra settings so he was able to zoom in to certain things that normal people couldn't see. He could see individuals' faces with perfect definition. And, while looking through the scope, he was able to see someone getting out of their vehicle.
He may not be able to hear, but he knew that was his target, as the man signing in guests marked his name out. It was subtle but he could make it out. So he followed him with the rifle, taking note of his every move. Eventually, after some partying, his target came to a halt in a room. This room had a window, but it was mostly covered by the curtain, in which he could only see out of a small sliver.
He could see him writing something, but that didn't matter. He shot the man directly in his head. But, there wasn't a single sound. Every gun that had been shot had sound. This one was special. So he got up and started jumping, rifle in hand, across more buildings. Until he made it to his second perch location. This one would be easier. This next target lived alone, so it was only him. He aimed his rifle across the street, aiming it at the man as he found him almost instantly.
The man seemed to look at him. The man shook his head, which made him hesitate to fire. But he did, and the man fell. He didn't know if the man had seen him, but the man was dead now, so it didn't matter. He put away his rifle and got up. He had just accepted one more thing about this life. He was truly John Snow. It didn't matter who John was before, he was now John Snow. And he promised himself, no matter what, to not lose what John had previously. At any cost.