CHAPTER 21: PULL THE TRIGGER!
DRIVE IMPACT!
WHOOSH—!
The rising uppercut buried itself in the mercenary's jaw with surgical precision. The lower half of his tactical mask shattered into plastic shards, followed immediately by a geyser of blood and broken teeth spraying from the man's mouth.
THUD!
The mercenary was lifted nearly half a meter off the ground before crashing onto his back, his body twitching in shock.
"F-U-C-K!"
The second mercenary snapped out of his stupor. He instinctively cursed, pivoting his Beretta M9 to center on Ren's chest. His finger tightened on the trigger.
But in the next microsecond—
SHING!
Ren twisted his torso, unleashing a mid-level spinning back-kick. Before the hammer of the handgun could fall, the toe of Ren's shoe slammed into the back of the mercenary's hand.
CLACK!
The M9 was kicked clean out of the man's grip, skidding across the concrete several meters away.
"What?!"
The mercenary's eyes went wide. But he wasn't the only one in shock. Kaji Takaomi, crouched behind the maintenance shed, stared at the handgun that had just landed at his feet.
There was nowhere left to hide on this roof. Ren was behind the door, Baku was on the maintenance roof, and Akagi and Kaji were pinned to the sides of the structure.
Kaji looked at the M9. He reached out and picked it up. The weight was cold, heavy, and terrifyingly real. His pupils dilated as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train.
"It's... it's a real piece."
"They really brought guns. They're actually trying to kill us... they're playing for keeps!"
Kaji had played his fair share of FPS games. He'd dreamed of holding a real gun, but he had never imagined a scenario where he'd be seconds away from being executed.
"Ha... haha. It's a death game. I guess this is normal. Anyway, I've got the gun now. The tables have turned... right?"
Kaji let out a manic, shaky laugh. No one could blame him. This was beyond the breaking point of any normal person. When reality exceeds what the mind can process, you lose yourself.
Drowning in the pressure, Kaji did something reckless. He raised the gun with a clumsy, trembling grip and pointed it at the second mercenary.
"Hey... you! Don't move! I'll fire! I swear I'll pull the trigger!"
But when Kaji looked up and met the mercenary's gaze, he saw a pair of eyes behind a mask that weren't scared at all. They were filled with a predatory, savage hunger.
"RAAGH!"
The mercenary let out a sudden, guttural roar.
It was a battlefield psych-out—a technique used to paralyze amateur combatants. To a normal high school graduate like Kaji, that roar was a physical blow. His hands turned to jelly. The gun went off—a stray shot that hit nothing but air—and the M9 slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the roof.
The "Absolute Weapon" was gone just as quickly as it had arrived.
"Tch. Useless trash," the mercenary muttered. He didn't waste another second. He reached for the submachine gun slung over his shoulder.
But Ren Shiroki was already there.
At this range, the mercenary had no room to maneuver his long gun. Realizing he couldn't clear the muzzle in time, he shifted his grip, drawing a jagged combat knife from his chest rig in a reverse grip.
He aimed for Ren's carotid artery, slashing horizontally.
SWISH!
The blade stopped mid-air.
The mercenary's eyes darted down. Ren had used his palms to jam the man's bicep and shoulder, pinning his arm against his own body. He could move his wrist, but the range was so limited he couldn't reach Ren's throat.
"Who the hell is this guy?!"
The mercenary was out of options. He saw Ren clenching a fist, winding up a punch that looked like it would go straight through his skull.
In a desperate gambit, the mercenary shrieked: "I SURRENDER! I GIVE UP!"
Pause.
Ren's fist stopped an inch from the man's face, hanging there like a loaded cannon.
Sensing he'd found a loophole, the mercenary dropped the knife. He even unslung his SMG and let it fall to his feet.
"See? I'm unarmed! Look!"
The mercenary waved his hands frantically. "My partner's jaw is in pieces—I felt that through the ground! I don't want any part of that! I'm just a hired gun. I'm only doing this for Q-Taro's money. It's not worth my life! Let me go, and I'll tell you everything about the traps in this building!"
It sounded like a logical trade.
As Baku and the others drifted closer, the mercenary began to speak, his eyes darting back and forth like a cornered animal.
"The building has nine floors. Every floor has piano-wire traps. The stairwells from one to five are rigged, too. You also have to watch out for pressure plates under the tiles..."
He kept talking, acting terrified, but in reality, he was watching the edge of the roof.
His partner was down, but the "other team" was already in place. Two more mercenaries had rappelled from the fifth floor and were scaling the exterior walls. They were seconds away from the lip of the roof.
Sure enough—
As the mercenary finished his "intel" dump, two silhouettes vaulted over the railing. They landed with their SMGs leveled at the group.
The rappelling team had been listening to the comms. They knew exactly who the threat was. They moved into a professional crossfire position, keeping a safe distance from Ren.
"Game over!"
The mercenary who had "surrendered" smirked, scooped up his SMG, and pressed the muzzle against Ren's forehead. He let out a sigh of genuine relief.
"You're a monster in a brawl, kid. But what was all that posturing for? You think you're Muhammad Ali or something?!"
In ten seconds, the board had flipped. Ren, Akagi, Baku, and Kaji were held at gunpoint by three armed professionals.
Seeing his partners were back in control, the "surrendered" mercenary relaxed slightly, turning to check on the man with the broken jaw.
Baku narrowed his eyes, his expression shifting to one of mock panic. "Wait, wait! Let's talk! We gave you a chance just now, didn't we? Let's be reasonable!"
The mercenaries traded a look. "Talk fast, white-hair."
"Let's make a deal," Baku pleaded. "Help us win. Turn on Q-Taro. Whatever we win from the gamble, we'll split it with you. How about it?"
The mercenaries almost laughed. They didn't work for Q-Taro just for the money; they were sadists who enjoyed the hunt. The mercenary holding the gun to Ren's head practically giggled. The "money" excuse had worked perfectly on these idiots.
"..."
The mercenaries were about to continue the "play," but the fourth man—the one with the shattered jaw—began to stir. He stood up, trembling with agony and blind rage.
His face was a ruined mess. He was going to need reconstructive surgery. The pain was so intense he had lost all interest in the "game."
"Kill... kill yoouu!"
The man with the broken jaw fumbled for his sidearm, his eyes bloodshot and crazed. He aimed it directly at Ren's head.
Akagi's brow furrowed. Baku's eyes sharpened. Both geniuses were calculating a dozen ways to break the stalemate, but all of them required the enraged mercenary to hesitate for a second. And he wasn't hesitating.
Ren Shiroki, however, looked almost disappointed. He looked at the man with the gun and sighed.
"Don't pull the trigger so soon..."
"Hah?" The mercenary didn't care. He pulled the trigger.
BANG—CHING!
A shot rang out, followed by the sound of lead tearing through meat.
Kaji screamed. Baku and Akagi tensed, their eyes focusing on Ren—only to see him standing there, perfectly unharmed.
Ren didn't miss a beat; he stepped forward and delivered another uppercut to the mercenary, finishing the job of shattering his jaw.
The mercenary's gun hand, however, was gone. It had been reduced to a pulp of shredded flesh and bone by a high-velocity impact.
It wasn't a malfunction. A bullet had come from outside the roof and intercepted his hand at the exact moment he tried to fire.
Who fired?
The mercenaries froze. The rooftop fell into a terrifying silence.
Ren reached up and adjusted a small, wireless earpiece. A muffled female voice echoed from the tiny speaker.
{ Yo, Ren-chin. From this bullet onward, the meter is running! }
{ Don't worry, I won't overcharge you. I'll give you the 'Kure Clan' family-and-friends discount... }