"Ah, I see. Then I can relax."
Suddenly, the once meek-looking Alvin turned cold.
Watching the young man, who seemed to have become a completely different person in both demeanor and gaze, Black Guys felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. An uneasy feeling stirred in his gut.
But the Smith & Wesson MP9 handgun in his hand gave Black Guys his courage back.
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What was there to fear?
He had a gun. It wasn't like this kid could kill him in an instant, was it?
Black Guys' expression turned more vicious. He licked his thick lips. "Kid, quit trying to scare me. If you don't want to die, you'd better do what I say!"
"Get on your knees, and then—"
In the brief moment when Black Guys' mind was filled with filthy thoughts,
Alvin suddenly drove an elbow backward. The blow, powered by all his strength, slammed straight into Black Guys' abdomen.
Caught off guard by the heavy hit, Black Guys couldn't react in time. Acid surged up from his stomach. Alvin twisted his waist and hips, pushed off the ground, and drove his knee upward, grabbing Black Guys by the hair with both hands and forcing his head down.
Bang!
His fragile nose smashed into Alvin's hard knee.
Tears, snot, and blood sprayed out together. The pain made Black Guys scream and curse furiously. "Fuck! Fuck! I'm gonna kill you, you little bastard!"
Before he could finish, a dark gun barrel was shoved straight into his mouth.
The old Laser gun he'd picked up might have had a faulty sight.
But... he had the barrel in the guy's mouth. No matter how far off the sights were, he couldn't possibly miss, right?
"Mmph! Mmph!"
Black Guys' eyes widened, terror filling his pupils. "Don't... kill me."
He'd never imagined that a seemingly meek young man could move so swiftly.
Alvin shoved the barrel of the old Laser gun straight down Black Guys' throat and smiled. "I liked you better when you were acting tough. Mind going back to that?"
Nobody who grew up in the Underhive was a good person.
Fights and brawls were child's play. Even the lowliest scavengers in the Underhive had taken a few lives. Alvin's predecessor was no exception.
No matter how free America was, compared to the chaos of the Underhive, it was at least a hundred thousand miles behind.
"P-please, spare me."
Black Guys begged in terror. "I was wrong. I swear to God, I'll never do it again!"
Alvin grinned, showing all his teeth, and said in a gentle voice, "It's fine. I don't hold grudges. Just be more careful in your next life."
Bang!
He pulled the trigger.
A pale-blue laser pierced straight through Black Guys' head.
One wicked life came to an end.
Of course, Alvin preferred to call it... purification.
Pulling out the old Laser gun, Alvin said coolly, "Sorry, I believe in the Emperor Lord. What's God supposed to be?"
Then, without a trace of guilt or hesitation, he crouched down and rummaged through Black Guys' pockets.
A few bills gave off the scent of money, and Alvin basked in it.
Thank you, freedom!
Thank you, America!
Thank you, Black Guys!
Alvin had walked less than two hundred meters from the alley before running into three groups of muggers.
Almost every time he turned a corner, someone tried to rob him.
Even the bullshit coming out of their mouths seemed copy-pasted, shifting seamlessly from robbery to sexual assault.
Did his face just look that easy to rob?
As for how things turned out, Alvin stripped them bare and searched them for anything worth taking.
Black Guys?
They were clearly generous brothers who'd give you the shirt off their backs!
At least, to Alvin, a local from the Underhive, these Black Guys were practically angels compared to the scum in Hive City.
On a single street, Alvin had managed to score hundreds of dollars from America's very own Black Guys, a U.S.-made Smith & Wesson MP9 handgun, a clean but ill-fitting outfit, and a high-quality tactical knife.
May the Emperor Lord protect me!
With his haul in hand, Alvin silently made an Eagle Salute.
Thanks to America's generosity, he no longer had to wear those rags that left either his top half or his bottom half exposed.
As for the people who'd tried to rob him, Alvin naturally gave each of them a bullet and sent the scum to repent before God.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out, and smoke filled the air.
Looking at the person lying in a pool of blood, Alvin felt no remorse whatsoever.
Scum deserved to be treated like scum.
With a bullet, for example.
He wasn't Batman, nor was he some Superhero overflowing with a sense of justice. He had no time to debate human rights and the law with criminals.
Alvin blew the smoke from the muzzle and walked away calmly.
As night fell, neon lights bathed the whole street. Crowds bustled past.
With his "fortune" of several hundred dollars in his pocket, Alvin scanned the shops lining the street until his gaze landed on a fast-food restaurant.
Without hesitation, he marched straight inside. At the sight of all the burgers on the menu, his mouth filled with saliva, and hunger briefly took over.
Forget his goals—what he wanted most right now was a proper meal!
He'd finally escaped the misery of Warhammer, even if only "temporarily." That didn't stop him from savoring the foods he remembered!
Under the surprised gaze of the employee, Alvin held up three fingers. "Three A meals, please. Thank you."
Fortunately, the Navigator System came with a built-in translation function, sparing him the trouble of dealing with language and reading barriers.
"Sir, are you sure you want three A meals?"
The employee looked at the somewhat skinny Alvin across the counter. "Each A meal comes with a double beef burger, fries, chicken nuggets, and a drink. Even a normal adult can only manage one. Three is too much—you might not finish them."
"Oh? Is that so?"
Alvin hesitated.
Just as the employee thought he was going to change his mind, Alvin shook his head and said, "Three might not be enough. Make it five A meals, please."
The employee twitched his lips. So all that explaining had been for nothing?
But the customer was always right. If that was what Alvin wanted, what could he do? He nodded, took the money, and said, "I hope you don't waste any."
The moment he bit into it, a medley of flavors filled his mouth.
Soft bread held sweet jam, with a few slices of pickles and tomato, and a juicy, hearty beef patty. Alvin was so moved, he nearly burst into tears.
Now this was food fit for a human!
What was that Nutrient Paste? Even dogs wouldn't eat it!
Nutrient Paste was great. The best thing about it was... it was nutritious.
All right, honestly, given a choice, Alvin would rather eat British food. Even Indian food—wait, no, forget that. That stuff could actually kill you.
But more than anything, he wanted to eat something meant for humans.
After polishing off five beef burgers, two servings of fries, four cups of cola, and five servings of fried chicken, Alvin patted his bulging stomach and wiped his mouth in satisfaction.
Just then, a news report came on the television inside the fast-food restaurant.
Lamplighter of The Seven would officially retire tomorrow. A retirement ceremony would be held to mark the occasion.
"Great. The story's at the beginning."
Watching The Seven on the screen, Alvin could finally pin down the current point in the story.
Lamplighter's retirement meant the story had only just begun.
While high on drugs and out of control, Locomotive would accidentally smash Hughie's girlfriend to pieces. That incident would serve as the spark for everything that followed.
Of course, Alvin didn't care about Hughie, and he had no interest in judging Locomotive. He had better things to do.
What he really cared about was Locomotive's girlfriend, Claw Woman!
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