Soldier 76 stood a short distance away, watching Mo's sudden appearance without expression. No. 85 seemed to have already known who Mo was.
"Are you really eighty-five?" Mirai was clearly a little excited.
"It's 'Soldier: 85,'" No. 85 corrected him. "Are you my boss?"
"Whether we can become your bosses depends on whether our brothers make it out alive today." Listening to the footsteps around him, Moran tossed the bloodstained eye protector from his backpack to Soldier 76.
Looking at the red eye protector in his hand, he shook his head helplessly and asked, "Do you have the collector's edition?"
"I think you're like a collector's-edition eye protector yourself!" Mirai said. "Twenty thousand gold coins for a batch of eye protectors. And I'm supposed to buy you a leather bag for that, huh?"
"No way around it. Put it on our tab for now!" No. 85 snorted. His blue trench coat slowly faded away, replaced by a jacket with the number 85 printed on its back.
His bright yellow hair turned a handsome silver, making him look like a different person.
"You don't want your purple gear?" Mirai frowned.
"I'm just hiding the skin. It doesn't affect the stats." No. 85 slowly put on his red visor, and sure enough, his entire demeanor changed.
Suddenly, a gun appeared in No. 85's hand again. A blue flash streaked past, and a fat man who had just charged out of the alley dropped to the ground...
There was no telling how that man, all rolls of flesh, had managed to charge out first. It felt as though one careless move would have left him wedged in the alley.
The fat man's fall, however, served as a warning to those behind him. He had gone down before even seeing anyone. Their opponents clearly