Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Bread and Candy (4)
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Inside the abandoned factory.
From deep within the dimly lit warehouse came the blare of raucous music, the slap of cards being thrown down, and the sound of flirtatious laughter leaking out. A dozen or so gangsters were crowded around a table strewn with cash bundles and cards, clearly running an illegal gambling den.
At that moment, a thunderous crash echoed as the warehouse door was kicked open.
KABOOM!!!
The gang members jumped to their feet in shock at the sudden intruder. Some instinctively reached for the pistols at their waists.
"W-What the hell?!"
Then, from the darkness outside, a lone figure stepped forward with deliberate footsteps—thud, thud.
Shabby clothes, emaciated frame, hands trembling uncontrollably.
He was a haggard man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. On the surface, he was utterly pathetic. Even a random street bum would be indistinguishable from him.
So the gangsters, who had tensed up thinking it might be the cops, twisted their faces into sneers.
"You got a death wish or somethin'!"
Curses flew as guns swung toward the intruder—but those were their last words.
The first victim didn't even have time to scream.
As a blade sprang from the man's wrist and grazed his throat, the head flew clean off in an instant.
SPLURT-!
"Wha—huh...?!"
The gangster next to him, drenched in the spraying blood and losing his mind, met the same fate.
In the blink of an eye, several more dropped. Finally grasping the situation, the rest opened fire in blind terror.
"Crazy bastard!"
"Shoot him—fire, damn it!!"
BANG! Rat-a-tat-tat!
Merciless gunfire rattled the warehouse interior.
But it posed no threat to the sudden monster. The muzzles couldn't even track his movements. The occasional lucky hit just ricocheted off his evasion armor, sparking harmlessly.
Against the overwhelming power surging from his enhanced cyberbody, the gangsters' resistance was as feeble as paper.
"Freakin' monster! Die!!"
"Gaaah!!"
The mantis blade whipped like a serpent, severing arms, chopping legs, splitting torsos in two. Pillars and crates used for cover were sliced apart, and those hiding behind them died bisected without even realizing they'd been cut.
Finally, the last survivor threw down his weapon and begged—but no emotion flickered in the intruder's eyes.
"P-Please, spare me!"
Like a machine, he closed in and mercilessly snuffed out the final breath.
The gunfire and screams cut off as if they'd been lies. Only the man's ragged breathing remained in the warehouse.
"........."
He slowly retracted the blood-soaked blade into his arm and surveyed the surroundings.
The gang's hideout, once lording over 14th Street, now rolled with nothing but mangled corpses.
Having eliminated all targets, he indifferently brushed the blood and flesh chunks from his shoulder.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he walked out through the shattered shutter door.
Under the streetlight across the way, two Family executives in expensive suits waited for him.
They didn't bat an eye at the fixer emerging from the gruesome slaughter.
They just greeted him casually, mockingly.
"Oh, there he is."
"Took you longer than usual? Don't slack off—move it!"
It was the attitude of someone handling a slave.
But he bowed low, practically crawling on all fours to their feet.
"I'm sorry. As ordered... I took care of them all. Clean."
The image of the powerhouse who had lorded over the gangsters like the Grim Reaper just moments ago was gone without a trace.
His voice cracked and quivered subserviently, saliva and tears mingling as they dripped.
"S-So... please, now give me what you promised..."
Pressing his forehead to the dirt in supplication, he looked every bit the dog awaiting its master's favor.
One executive nudged the other beside him and snickered.
"Get a load of this, bro. This is the great 'Supernova Ronzo' himself. What a sight, huh?"
He pressed his shoe down on the prostrate man's back and sneered.
"Our little pup does his jobs so well. What's he wagging his tail for this time—a reward?"
But Ronzo didn't resist. No, it seemed he couldn't even think to.
All his thoughts, values, instincts, and soul were fixated on that tiny blue candy—the Heaven Candy—dangling slowly between the executive's fingers.
The executive sneered even harder at the pathetic display, then slammed his foot into Ronzo's side.
THUD!
"Guh!"
A groan burst out, but Ronzo's gaze never left the pill. The executive stomped his back again, grinding his full weight down. Yet Ronzo just mashed his face into the dirt, desperately stretching toward the drug.
Deep in his soul, trapped by flesh and withdrawal, a faint voice whispered.
'This isn't me. I have to cut these bastards down now, forget the damn drug.'
But such whispers were buried effortlessly under the tsunami of withdrawal agony. The pain ripping through every cell craved the fleeting relief that blue pill would bring.
"Please... have mercy on me..."
"Huh? Haha! Mercy! Poor bastard, for real."
"Here. Eat up."
Finally, the executives dropped the pill to the ground, and he crawled like a dog to lick it up...
His name was Ronzo.
Ronzo Javier, the fixer once called the alleyway supernova.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ -1 Year Ago-
Club 'Black Sapphire' VIP lounge.
Under the faint blue lighting, the man slowly swirled a glass of top-shelf whiskey.
Enjoying the leisurely break, he turned at the familiar voice calling him.
"Hey, Ronzo! Heard your recent gigs have been killing it. Congrats!"
One of the back-alley info brokers approached with an exaggerated grin.
Ronzo brought the glass to his lips and snorted faintly. He was used to this kind of flattery.
"Took on corporate jobs... three in a row, and walked away clean every time? Impressive, man. Real impressive!"
The broker gave a thumbs-up.
It wasn't wrong. In Omega Detroit, corporate gigs were death sentences for fixers. Low success odds, and even if you pulled it off, surviving the tangled web of interests afterward was harder still. Yet he'd nailed three in recent months and was here sipping booze unscathed.
His skill and guts were already legendary in the alleys.
Now, Ronzo was undeniably one of the hottest fixers around.
The scene started calling him 'Supernova Ronzo.'
The broker sidled up close, shoulder to shoulder, and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"Be straight with me, Ronzo. Rumors say you're getting scouted by a corp soon—is it true?"
He just drank instead of answering, but the rumor wasn't baseless.
A client he'd built solid trust with had hinted recently. A big corp's security scout had eyes on Ronzo, might offer a sweetheart special hire deal.
If he took it... he could ditch this grimy, dangerous merc life for legit stability, wealth, and prestige.
'Corporate gig... not a bad deal.'
Ronzo set down his glass, musing. He had faith in his skills.
Confidence he could be the best anywhere was natural.
So he was in an especially good mood that day. Back-to-back tough wins, his rising rep, and maybe a big opportunity on the horizon. Drunk on long-lost satisfaction, he savored his drink leisurely.
That's when he caught someone approaching in the corner of his eye.
"...!"
He turned to see an unbelievably stunning woman smiling softly at him.
Red silk dress hugging her curves, luscious blonde hair, captivating eyes. Even in the dim club, she shone alone. She slid naturally into the seat beside him, speaking in a silky voice.
"Here alone? Mind if I buy you a drink, Mr. Supernova?"
Ronzo was briefly stunned, then flashed a cocky grin. What a lucky day. A knockout like her approaching first? Word of the corp scout must've spread already.
"For a beauty like you? Anytime."
He didn't refuse the fresh glass she offered.
Her rare-in-the-alleys beauty and sweet voice even loosened his usual wariness a bit.
In that brief moment as she took the glass from the bartender, something tiny slipped from between her fingers into the liquid—but Ronzo, buzzed and pleased, noticed nothing at all.