"Everybody, run!!!"
Caesar, male, forty-six, was one of the Maroni Family's senior executives and the current commander-in-chief of the Tank Company.
A few days earlier, after the upheaval in Gotham, the authorities had sent troops into the city. Unsurprisingly, they had been wiped out in an instant.
Even so, a fair amount of equipment and personnel had fortunately survived, only to be swiftly taken over by the local Gangsters.
What? You were asking about the officials and the police?
Since when had you thought they would be any use in a place like Gotham?
Anyway, with their firepower vastly improved, these Gangsters had begun vying for supremacy, launching a "war" on the strength of their outstanding military prowess.
And wouldn't you know it, once they got the hang of things, they proved noticeably more effective in combat than the government forces.
Everything had been going smoothly, and Caesar had been riding high, convinced he would soon eliminate all his enemies. He had never expected that walking calamity to pop up halfway through!
Fuck, which goddamn little bastard had shot him?!
He had no intention of going through that hell again. The others could die for all he cared, as long as their blood didn't splash on him.
See you, suckers!
"What the hell? How did someone that cowardly become a commander?"
Caesar had gone full throttle and fled several miles in an instant, while those he had left behind had no idea what had happened.
Especially the soldiers they had temporarily absorbed into their ranks.
Sure, they were usually treated poorly. Sure, their pay, meals, and accommodations were routinely shortchanged. Sure, once discharged, they were easily discriminated against, mocked, or even held up as cautionary examples. And sure, they had been treated like dirt and beaten rotten the moment they