Big Daddy shouted at Mindy.
Mindy pouted aggrievedly and pointed toward Hayato and Peter.
But the first person Big Daddy noticed was Dave.
Dave had been full of drive lately, especially after getting a beautiful girlfriend who looked like a model. But right now, he was sprawled lazily on a bench, holding up a skewer of fried tofu puffs and stuffing them into his mouth. Yet he chewed listlessly, looking utterly despondent, like he had lost the will to live.
Then Big Daddy's gaze fell on Hayato and Peter.
Yesterday, Hayato had not touched a gun, but now he held a pistol in each hand.
With one look, Big Daddy decided Hayato was a novice, a rookie, because he held the guns casually and was not even aiming at Peter. What puzzled Big Daddy was why Peter looked as if he were facing a great enemy, sweat beading on his forehead. He had not been this nervous even when facing submachine-gun fire.
Hayato fired, one shot here, another there.
Big Daddy no longer thought Hayato was simply firing at random. He thought Hayato was predicting Peter's path and blocking it off, but the muzzles were angled nearly fifteen degrees off, and the bullets landed two or three meters away from Peter. What exactly was he blocking?
Big Daddy was a little angry. Hayato seemed to be wasting bullets.
It was not that Big Daddy was stingy. His funding came from the criminals he took down, so it was essentially "using war to sustain war." Money came easily, and he was not a miser, so he had always been generous and supplied ammunition without limits.
But that did not mean it could be wasted.
His thoughts lasted only an instant, and so did the bullets.
Clang, clang, clang...
Metal collided, and