Yard Pound Brothers
Knock knock knock.
The van's window slid down with a whir in response to my knock.
A thick cloud of cigarette smoke billowed out from inside the vehicle.
"What the hell do you want?"
The sharp bark and glaring eyes made for quite the sight.
His hand twitched like he was about to pull a weapon any second.
"Why aren't you picking up your phone? The elders sent me here personally to check in."
I delivered my rehearsed line in a flat tone.
This was possible because I knew who was pulling their strings—and because I knew the outcome, I skipped the middleman entirely.
Unlike the protagonist, I wasn't some martial arts master, so I veered off into a route that didn't even exist in the game.
His wariness eased at the mention of the elders.
The guy in the driver's seat pulled out his phone, checked it, and scowled.
"Phone? Nothing came through."
"Beats me. Anyway, they're pretty pissed you aren't answering."
"Hey, if they get mad out of nowhere like this, we're in a bind too..."
The hierarchy was crystal clear.
The driver's face crumpled in distress.
He turned to the guy in the passenger seat for input, starting up a conversation.
I eavesdropped on their pointless chatter and felt my certainty solidify.
Yep, nailed it.
From the moment they reacted to "elders," I knew.
These were the punks from the tutorial.
Yard Pound Brothers.
They'd commit any crime for the right price.
"Yard, boss. I'll pass that along then."
Was their talk wrapping up inside?
The driver turned back from glancing sideways.
"No special notes. And no calls either... Tell 'em that when you head back."
"That'd leave me, the middleman, in a tough spot."
I scanned the surroundings quickly, feeling resolve bubble up for what came next.
No sign of the presumed protagonist, as expected. Late hour, deserted alley—not a soul in sight.
Was gonna do it anyway.
I steadied my breathing under the mask.
Hunter days chasing down superpowered criminals flooded my mind with ingrained moves.
"Heh, tell the elders it's 'cause she's the Snow Tiger Emperor's daughter—no helping it. We wanna gather intel fast too, but those types sniff us out like ghosts just from us sitting in the car. We're trying to earn our pay, so we've been extra cautious with the ti—"
"Enough."
A voice from the passenger side.
The driver cut off his rambling sigh of an excuse and shrank back like he'd messed up.
"Pound. Your loose lips are always the problem."
"S-sorry!"
"Forget it."
Clunk! The passenger door flew open, and a man stepped out.
Mechanical prosthetic taking up his right arm, baggy clothes.
Familiar face. Yard, of the Yard Pound Brothers.
The boss type who dragged Pound around as his driver.
He revved his cheap prosthetic with a creak-creak, closing the distance. Eyes burning with hostility—pissed off, maybe.
I stood still, locking eyes with him.
Up close, Yard spat out his gripe.
"Those guys never call during a job. They always wait for our report to air their complaints."
"So?"
His eyebrow twitched at my casual retort.
Recalling the payout in his head, Yard exhaled long and kept going.
"They never even gave us a number to call when we head out on a job."
"Hm."
I nodded like of course.
Naturally, they'd get new burners each time.
These idiots just didn't realize—they were disposable pawns to those old geezers.
The cash flowed steady, so they figured it was just a cautious client and went along.
"This job's only been two hours in. And you show up out of the blue bitching? You aren't thinking of nitpicking like last time and docking our fee, right?"
"Even if they dock the fee, you'd owe them thanks."
"What?"
"They forgive you for lurking this far from the dorms. Get any closer, and Frozenheart would've killed you on sight."
A vein bulged on Yard's forehead.
He stepped in closer, prodding my chest with his prosthetic like a threat.
"You little shit. Say that again. Who dies?"
The fishy stench of pride from lifelong crooks.
I let out a quiet chuckle under my mask at the tiresome scene I'd seen a thousand times.
"This fucker's crazy? Laughing?"
"Yard, boss! Don't poke the bear, it'll just make things messy..."
"Pound. Shut it."
I watched Yard fume and curse.
I had no idea how it'd play out if I ignored them, but the second they crossed Noah? Corpses.
The skill gap between the Yard Pound Brothers and Noah couldn't be bridged by cheap tricks.
One flick from her, and that prosthetic to his skull—smashed.
Leave 'em be, and they'll just fuck around elsewhere.
I clenched and unclenched my fist, giving the area one last scan.
Sparing them was never on the table.
No need to tip off their bosses about me.
Combat Chick
You've spotted a group spying on Noah Frozenheart. Punish the brothers who've lived lives of injustice.
Perfect.
Quest pops up right when I'm set on it.
Nothing like Abyss City's XP and loot, but for me right now? Ideal rewards.
Was dreading the cleanup anyway.
Whatever this "Positive Cliché" was, I didn't mind.
Quests felt less like orders and more like fuel for my own will—right up my alley.
"Even if it's from those guys, I ain't taking this shit from some lousy errand boy...!"
I fixed on Yard as he raised his voice in rage.
Then moved my hand without hesitation.
Pok!
My thumb plunged into Yard's eye without warning.
"Aaaagh!"
Yard flinched, hands flying to his face.
In that gap, my kick slammed his groin.
Crack!
His not-insubstantial bulk hit the ground, writhing.
"───!!!"
Pain too intense for screams—he just shuddered.
Scraping the pavement with his prosthetic. Looked like it hurt bad.
"Y-Yard, boss!?"
Pound flung open the driver's door in panic, struggling to get out.
My kick slammed it shut on him.
"Gaaak!"
Sandwiched in the door.
The knife in Pound's jacket clattered to the ground with a metallic ring.
Swish!
I snatched the gleaming blade, locked my wrist with mana, and thrust.
Stab! A wet squelch.
A hole pierced Pound's neck, pinned in the driver's seat.
"Gurgle..."
I yanked the blade free, ignoring the foaming blood.
Yard was staggering up, clutching his soaked crotch.
"You fucking bastard!"
Whoosh! The heavy prosthetic swung with a thudding sound.
Good momentum, but the wide swing screamed amateur. No real training.
"You rat... you dog!"
One eye gone, balls crushed—maybe his brains too.
Yard spewed crude curses, flailing wild punches.
Thought it'd be a bit tough, but straight-up tutorial level.
No need for skills.
Dodge the fists, slice as I pass.
A few seconds of low-rent scuffle.
Yard's breathing grew ragged.
"Huff! Rrghhh...!"
A glance at Pound, dead and slumped from the driver's seat.
Excitement fading now, huh.
Too late.
Yard's body, etched with red lines from the knife, pumped blood steadily.
"Let's wrap this up. Gotta get back and sleep."
I spun the knife and closed in.
Yard stifled his rage, overcome by terror—letting out weird gasps.
"Y-you...!"
The bulky prosthetic whipped out.
Enough power to flip the van, yet we followed the script.
I dodged. He got stabbed.
Thud!
Like Pound, a hole in his neck. Yard staggered like a drunk, then crashed down, life snuffed.
Nice. No witnesses.
I folded the knife into my pocket, grateful for the empty street, and popped the van door.
Thud! Thud!
Tossed the bodies in roughly.
Slid inside and rummaged through the van.
Impossible in the game, but reality's got infinite freedom, right?
Underwhelming haul, though.
I clicked my tongue.
Cheap bastards... not even a pistol.
All their cash in the bank, maybe.
Looting pockets and the van netted just 6 coins. Sixty thousand won? Not worth the math.
Skipped the probable illegal drugs.
Out of the van, I smashed their smartphones and chucked them in a trash bin marked for pickup.
Rewards Acquired
Right on cue.
I stood and watched. And was impressed.
Damn!
Thought "erase traces" meant just scrubbing bloodstains.
The whole Yard Pound van vanished somewhere, and the scattered blood cleaned spotless.
The coins and knife stayed with me—100 points. Blood off my clothes? 1,000. Smashed phones gone from the trash? Perfect score.
"Does good work."
Spotless, like nothing happened.
Wanna slap five stars and a review.
Job done, I headed back to the dorms.
On the way, it hit me.
Oh yeah. What about later?
Thinking ahead, it'd be nice to have a teammate or two.