Boom—!
The sound of the grenade explosion echoed like a thunderclap, the firelight illuminating the night as the shockwave sent everyone sprawling. Those closest to the blast were obliterated instantly, their bodies flung like ragdolls.
"Damn it, who's responsible for this?!"
The gang leader, Fagane, clutched his bleeding head, his voice a guttural roar. Shrapnel had gouged a deep gash across his forehead, blood cascading down to obscure his left eye. This was supposed to be a routine deal, a simple exchange of goods between rival factions. But now, chaos reigned.
On the other side of the warehouse district, Billy's crew was in disarray. Just as they were about to make their escape, a massive iron container door hurtled through the air like a projectile, slicing through one of their vehicles with terrifying precision.
"Shit, we're under attack!" Billy screamed, his face pale with fear. The car that had just been destroyed was the one he had been about to enter. He had hesitated, distracted by the explosion, and that hesitation had saved his life.
From the direction of the flying door, a figure emerged, clad in a sleek black combat suit. He stood atop a blue shipping container, his presence ominous. It was clear—this was the interloper who had disrupted the deal.
"Master, be cautious," Gasco murmured, his voice calm despite the chaos. With feline agility, he leaped from container to container, dodging a hail of bullets that ricocheted off the metal surfaces below. Each shot missed its mark, the sound of bullets striking steel ringing out like a macabre symphony.
Gasco moved with precision, drawing a pair of pistols from thigh holsters. Each shot he fired was lethal, dropping gang members with ruthless efficiency. Enhanced by experimental technology, his reflexes and aim were superhuman. Even at a distance of over ten meters, he could pick off his targets with ease.
"Fagane, quit licking your wounds and get over here! Unless you want to die too!" Billy shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. His men were being decimated by this lone attacker, and he knew they couldn't hold out much longer.
Fagane, still nursing his wound, glanced at the wreckage of his convoy. Two grenades had already cost him over a dozen men. His face twisted into a snarl. "You there! Assist Billy's crew! I want that bastard dead!" he barked at his remaining men. Grabbing a shotgun, he joined the fray, his experience in gang wars evident in his calculated movements.
As the number of attackers increased, Gasco's movements began to slow. Even with his enhancements, facing dozens of armed opponents was no small feat. Bullets whizzed past him, some grazing his suit. The suit's bulletproof capabilities were being pushed to their limits.
"Gasco, activate your abilities. Now," came the cool, commanding voice of Kyle through Gasco's earpiece. Kyle, watching the battle unfold via a live feed from his manor, knew it was time to escalate.
"Understood, Master," Gasco replied. He leaped to the ground, his eyes closing briefly. When they reopened, the world around him had transformed. His heart rate spiked, his brain processing information at an accelerated rate. Adrenaline surged through his veins, and his body's energy consumption skyrocketed. To Gasco, the bullets flying toward him now moved as if through molasses. This was bullet time.
"Much more exhilarating than the lab tests," Gasco muttered, a grin spreading across his face. He holstered his pistols and drew a pair of razor-sharp combat knives. Close-quarters combat was where this ability truly shone.
Dodging bullets with ease, Gasco closed the distance between himself and his enemies. His knives flashed like silver lightning, each strike aimed with lethal precision—throats slashed, hearts pierced. The gang members fell like wheat before a scythe.
"Is this the power of bullet time?" Kyle murmured, watching the carnage from the safety of his manor. His face was pale, a mix of awe and revulsion etched across his features. This was the first time he had witnessed such brutality firsthand, and it left him momentarily shaken. But as the battle raged on, his disgust gave way to fascination. Gasco's movements were a deadly ballet, each dodge and strike executed with flawless precision.
In the video feed, Gasco was a blur of motion, his knives leaving trails of silver as he dispatched his enemies. Each flash of steel marked the end of another life. To Gasco, the world was moving in slow motion, his enhanced perception allowing him to anticipate and counter every attack.
"There's no need to watch any further," Kyle said, closing the laptop. The outcome was inevitable. Gasco's display of power had solidified Kyle's resolve. He needed more superhuman agents like Gasco.
The ability to rip a container door from its hinges with bare hands was no small feat. Gasco had done so effortlessly, the chains snapping like twine under his enhanced strength. Such power was invaluable.
"With the special-effect stomach medicine entering production, the Umbrella Corporation should be able to file for approval tomorrow," Kyle mused, shifting his focus to his next venture. Money was the lifeblood of his operations, and this new drug promised to be a goldmine. Tailored for an era where stomach ailments were rampant due to poor diets and stress, the medicine contained a trace of energy from the No. 7 crystal, enhancing its efficacy.
Even if this venture failed, Kyle had a backup plan: a beauty serum designed to revolutionize the cosmetics industry. Women would pay a fortune for such a product.
"Master, the area is secure. I'm returning to the manor," Gasco's voice crackled through the earpiece, pulling Kyle from his thoughts. The battle had lasted a mere five minutes—a testament to Gasco's efficiency.
"Good work," Kyle replied, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Gasco's energy bar, a specialized device that replenished his stamina after using bullet time, ensured he was always ready for the next mission.
As Kyle leaned back in his chair, his mind raced with possibilities. The world was on the brink of a new era, and he intended to be at its forefront.