Killer Erica, the Fallen Gang

The dense roar of motorcycle exhaust echoed through the dim street. Beneath the faint glow of the streetlights, a group of gang members with colorful bandanas, faces full of reckless arrogance, occupied the road on their bikes, rampaging without restraint.

"Lucky break—the Motorcycle Gang's all out raising hell. I'm already looking forward to seeing them get sent flying."

Frank tightened his grip on the steering wheel at those words, his eyes cold and fixed ahead as he pressed down on the accelerator.

The Bevel Magic Treasure drifted like a battered ghost beneath the streetlights, speeding off in the direction Merlin had given.

Inside Merlin's Custom Shop, Merlin munched on snacks while watching the live surveillance feed. A stream of motorcycles carrying laughing, chatting Motorcycle Gang members cruised down the street.

The scene shifted, soon arriving at an open square. A woman in a blue casual outfit, her figure lithe and sharp, was surrounded by the Motorcycle Gang. But despite the circling bikes and whistles closing in, she only furrowed her brow, showing no real panic.

Merlin read her face and pulled up her identity.

A detailed profile popped up on the screen.

"What a coincidence..." He blinked in surprise at the data.

[Elektra Natchios, daughter of a Greek diplomat, Matt's ex-girlfriend, and now Kingpin's top assassin in Apple City's underground.]

Usually, Kingpin's side dealt with him through Bullseye. Elektra kept a low profile, rarely seen.

But Bullseye often vented to him about Elektra's business. Merlin had never met her, but he knew the gist.

The square was filled with the dense roar of motorcycles and the gang's whistling taunts. Under that kind of pressure, most people would have cracked.

But Elektra wasn't one of them.

She squinted as she scanned the circle. She didn't think much of these people, but being surrounded was still a hassle.

Just as she was about to make the first move to break the deadlock, a strange engine roar suddenly sounded from outside.

The next moment, a vehicle with a bucket-like front, like a bulldozer, burst into the circular flow of motorcycles. Bodies and bikes went flying, tossed into the air by the sheer impact.

"Bam! Bam! Bam..." Frank drove the Bevel Magic Treasure, tearing open a gap, then worked from the inside out, plowing outward from the inner ring. The Motorcycle Gang members, who had been circling arrogantly moments before, went airborne one after another like leaves.

Soon, the square that had been filled with cheers and roaring engines was nothing but wreckage. Motorcycles and people lay everywhere—bikes on people, people on bikes... a field of groans.

Frank, brimming with satisfaction, pulled out a string of grenades to finish off everyone on the spot, then chase down the few lucky ones who had escaped the perimeter. But he hesitated when he saw the woman at the center.

"Just toss them. That woman's no pushover—don't worry about her." Merlin's voice came through again.

Frank still hesitated, but the moment his eyes met Elektra's, the hesitation vanished. He hurled the string of grenades without a second thought.

"Vroom..." The Bevel Magic Treasure shot out like a blade, vanishing from the scene.

"Fuck!" Seeing the grenades clattering across the ground, Elektra's face shifted. She cursed under her breath, then melted into the shadows like a ninja.

She figured it was better to be careful.

"Boom, boom, boom..." With a series of explosions, towering fireballs rose one after another in the empty square.

"Turn right. Five hundred meters ahead, turn right again."

Frank watched the Motorcycle Gang member disappear into an alley on his bike, his eyes turning cold. He followed Merlin's instructions without hesitation, cranking the wheel right.

"Slow down a bit. That guy can't go fast in the alley. If you get there too early, he might double back."

Frank eased off the gas.

A black man with a black bandana, lean and wiry like a monkey, rode his motorcycle through the dark alley. The stench of garbage didn't faze him at all.

He kept glancing back nervously from his seat. When he saw no one following, he finally let out a breath.

"Fuck, who the hell is targeting us? When we get back, the Motorcycle Gang will make you pay!" He still didn't know his buddies in the square had been wiped out, still thinking about revenge.

The motorcycle wound through the narrow alley. He knew the area like the back of his hand, so he reached the exit quickly.

The moment he left the oppressive, dark alley, the weight on his heart finally lifted.

But just as he relaxed, he seemed to see something and his eyes went wide with terror.

Out of nowhere, a familiar modified vehicle slammed into him from the side.

"Bam!" Under the angled impact, the motorcycle and the man separated instantly, both flying into the air before crashing down like a sack of rags. The black man's limbs snapped apart like a broken doll as he rolled.

Blood spread quietly from his severed head.

"...One! Woo-hoo, right on time!" Merlin cheered from in front of the screen, excited. "I win. I'll take that three percent without hesitation."

Frank didn't reply. He stopped the car, staring in shock at the black man lying in a pool of blood, gaining a deeper understanding of the young man named Merlin.

"Remember to finish him off. Next up are the Mexican Irish crew. Their firepower's a lot heavier—be careful."

People in the herb trade and smuggling business had much sharper instincts. The difficulty was about to spike.

Frank pulled himself together, raised his pistol, and put a bullet into the black man's head in the pool of blood. Then, following the directions, he headed for the next target.

"Bang!"

Erica appeared on the scene, wearing a red silk scarf mask and a set of form-fitting combat gear. She narrowed her eyes at the dead black person, then glared resentfully toward where Frank had vanished before giving chase once more.

"One behind the door on the right."

Frank blasted the door in front of him with his shotgun.

"Bang!"

The next moment, a corpse slid out.

"One behind the pillar at three o'clock, two behind the herb crate."

"There's a shotgunner at the third-floor stairwell. Toss a grenade."

"Cherno jumped out the window and ran. He's in a black Cherokee SUV now."

Along the way, with Merlin's callouts and the devastating firepower of his pump-action shotgun, Frank cut through like he was entering an empty land—no enemy could withstand him even for a moment.

After the entire raid, Frank felt like a game character being controlled. By the time he walked out of the gang's stronghold, he hadn't even taken a scratch.