Death Ray

In the lower district of Pomo Port.

Waves of white foam from the port's sea continuously surged, crashing against the riddled walls with the strong music from ashore.

'Dada dada dada dada'

Gunfire continuously rang out in "Battle of the Reverse," truly like a battlefield, with smoke and bullets wildly shooting at the rooftops, kicking up dust everywhere.

The men from the Russian Gang and the Black members of the Severed Hand Gang, both groups of gangsters in the middle of a deal, were furious and agitated, their hearts burning with rage. Their transaction had been going smoothly until some unknown bastard decided to blast music at full volume late at night to cause trouble.

"Come out! Come out!"

A Black man from the Severed Hand Gang roared, holding a cheap AK-47, spitting a continuous stream of fire towards the source of the music, riddling the rooftop with holes and sending dust flying.

"Damn bastard, blow him up." a Black man from the Severed Hand Gang yelled, drawing a Mark II, also known as a Pineapple, from his waist. He pulled the pin and threw it towards the rooftop where the music was loudest.

As the small Pineapple-shaped grenade arced through the air, a dark, agile figure leaped from the rooftop like a leopard. Accompanied by the music, he crossed the alley and jumped onto the adjacent rooftop.

'Boom'

The original rooftop exploded in a cloud of dust. The two gangs, shielding their eyes, saw the person who had forced them out and quickly turned their guns, their muzzles tracking the dark figure as they fired.

"Damn it, you brought grenades!"

The Russian Gang, seeing that the Severed Hand Gang had brought a powerful weapon like a grenade to the deal, couldn't help but roar with veins bulging in their necks. The gunshots and music were too loud here, forcing him to shout at the top of his lungs for anyone to hear him.

"That guy's got the speakers on him, that's too damn arrogant! Use whatever weapons you have and blow him up!"

The Severed Hand Gang remained noncommittal. They brought them, so what?

As gangsters, it was normal to carry grenades for self-defense.

"Fuck!"

The Russian Gang couldn't stand it anymore. "Bring out your stuff and blow him up!"

A burly Russian man kicked over a greasy oil barrel nearby and pulled out an RPG-7 rocket launcher.

The leader of the Severed Hand Gang, firing his AK, stared with wide eyes as the Russian Gang pulled out the rocket launcher, and couldn't help but curse at them, "Fuck, you guys are even bringing out rocket launchers, what the hell do you Russians want?"

This rocket launcher was no simple weapon; the RPG-7 had a famous and glorious combat record.

In 1993, during a US military operation in Somalia to capture the warlord Aidid, Somali militants shot down two Black Hawk helicopters of the US Army's 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment using RPG rocket launchers.

Later, this event was adapted into the movie "Black Hawk Down."

It also gained notoriety in the Chechen War. In one battle, Chechen rebels, relying on SVD rifles and this rocket launcher, reduced 1,000 Russian soldiers to only 11 survivors.

The leader of the Severed Hand Gang felt his scalp tingle, never expecting the Russian Gang to have such a devastating weapon.

The Russian Gang remained noncommittal. As gangsters, it was normal to carry heavy weapons like rocket launchers for self-defense!

Immediately, the Russian man shouldered the rocket launcher, aimed at a window on the floor below the rooftop, and fired. The tail flame spewed out, heading towards the building where the music was playing.

The next moment, a dark, agile figure, like a leopard, leaped from the rooftop and quickly jumped across several rooftops. The rocket-propelled grenade directly entered the small building, and a rumbling explosion erupted from it, engulfing the entire building in flames. The fire rose high into the night sky, extremely visible, and debris and dust flew everywhere.

The music from his person never stopped.

Wherever the dark figure leaped, the music followed. Gunfire also followed suit.

The two gangs shielded themselves from the flying debris and dust, and their guns continued to track the dark figure.

Suddenly.

An object resembling a grenade was thrown from the rooftop, landing directly above the two gangs.

"Take cover!! Protect your eyes!"

An experienced gangster roared loudly.

The next moment, the grenade exploded above their heads with a 'pop,' illuminating the entire Pomo Port with a flash.

"It's a flashbang!"

"My eyes!!"

"My eyes!"

"Don't panic, get down."

Many were blinded by the sudden flash, their vision turning a blurry white and their eyes aching. Some instinctively fired their guns, hitting their own men nearby, who fell to the ground groaning. Others, more experienced, immediately dropped to the ground to avoid injury and prevent accidental harm to their comrades.

The next moment, the music suddenly shifted to a small alley. A smoke bomb, no bigger than half a palm, was forcefully thrown from the dark alley where the music was playing, flying into their midst.

'Hiss...'

The smoke bomb emitted thick smoke, instantly engulfing the locations of the two groups in a haze, with only chaotic figures visible, groaning and rolling around.

Alex's figure, dressed in a black trench coat, with a hood pulled up and a smooth silver mask covering his face, held two black Desert Eagles. The music of Zhang Jie's "Battle of the Reverse" and songs sung by the System vibrated from him as he emerged from the dark alley.

"It's you!!!"

Seeing a figure emerge, the gangsters who were lying down angrily raised their guns and fired. Bullets rained down in front of Alex, hitting the ground around his feet.

Alex stepped, his feet sticking eerily to the wall, his trench coat billowing behind him as he ran swiftly along the wall. The bullets from below followed his movements, hitting the ground and the wall he ran past, kicking up dust.

Alex's arms were straight, the black Desert Eagles in his hands spitting fire as he ran along the wall.

'Bang'

"Bang."

"Bang."

"Bang."

Time seemed to slow down the instant Alex stepped onto the wall. At least in Alex's eyes, their resistance was as slow as a three-year-old's movements.

Alex couldn't outrun bullets or dodge them, but the moment they aimed at him, he had enough time to evade the muzzle. This allowed Alex to run up the wall as if he could dodge bullets.

As his dual Desert Eagles spat fire, every shot hit its mark, piercing the thick fog. The ripples of fog kicked up by the bullets were like bullet trails in The Matrix, both pleasing to the eye and utterly brutal. The bullets that followed his path up the wall also stopped. Because the person who fired them was already dead.

After his dual Desert Eagles fired all fourteen bullets, Alex, mid-air after running up the wall, flipped. The guns spun on his index fingers before he tucked them into his back waistband. His dark figure landed smoothly on the ground. The hem of his trench coat fell, and the silver, gleaming pupils of his mask fixed on the area shrouded in smoke.

"Combat is the starting point for us heroes... I want to control my power... flaunt my might..."

The music the System played still surrounded him.

There were no survivors left. All that remained in the smoke were two million US dollars in cash and a box of white powder.

He strode out of the dark alley, accompanied by the background music, heading towards the smoke that was gradually being dispersed by the sea breeze.

Those lurking in the shadows began to stir restlessly.