The door to the shooting range slid open, drawing the bald shopkeeper’s attention. Seeing it was the same kid who arrived earlier, he closed the screens on his OAM and prepared to meet him.
Dante walked over with quick steps and placed the bulky pistol on the counter.
"So? What do you think, kid?" Said the shopkeeper. "You used all twenty rounds so..."
"This thing will probably rip my arm off." Heaving a sigh, Dante let a hint of a smile play on his lips. "Just the way I like it."
"Give me five packs of that red skull stuff. And three more mags."
Taken aback, the shop keeper didn’t move, continuing to stare at him with a mix of bewilderment and annoyance.
"Uh... are you sure about this, kid? You said it yourself, this thing will rip your arm off."
"I know, I know. It’s a little stronger than my last main, but the kick is just right. There really is no point if I don’t feel it, you know?"
Recoil was one of the most important things to pay attention to when choosing a pistol, since stability was far more important than firepower. A strong weapon is preferable, sure, but there is no point if it throws you back every time you try to fire it, making you incapable of hitting anything.
Those reasons were what made Dante and those like him a little weird. He simply enjoyed the explosiveness of stronger weapons, feeling the shock of each fired bullet traveling through his arms, and the challenge of keeping his aim steady. In a way, it was like taking hold of a raging beast and forcing one’s will on it. Accomplishing such a feat came with a great sense of satisfaction that Dante could never get enough of.
"Ah, you’re one of those." The shopkeeper scoffed then reached below the counter, taking out another pack of ammo. "I’m guessing you aren’t getting this for self-defence?"
"Among other things." Dante shifted his body and leaned against the counter, his right elbow resting on its surface. "Truth is, I didn’t just drop by to get some new iron."
The bald man froze for a second then continued taking out the packs of ammo as if everything was perfectly fine.
"Uh-oh... what else brought you here, then?"
"Your list," Dante answered. "I want to get a look at it."
The look of suspicion had already returned to the bald keeper’s face.
"You a hunter?" He asked.
"That would be a stretch," Dante replied. "I do freelance work, but there haven’t been many gigs lately."
"A freelancer, huh..." Placing the fifth and last ammo box on the counter, the bald man leaned forward, studying him with his eyes. "Sounds like you know your stuff, kid, so you should also know stuff is mostly handled by the locals."
"C’mon now, it’s not like that’s one of the rules," Dante said. "Work is work, and you lose nothing by giving me some."
As the staring contest continued, Dante began to have some doubts. Shops that made a rule of not working with outsiders weren’t uncommon. Since this was his first time visiting the Violet Rose, he had no idea if it was one of them, but he decided to ask anyway.
Fortunately, it seems that he had nothing to worry about. Though he still seemed grumpy, the bald shopkeeper took out a small tablet and presented it to him. Smiling, Dante scanned the QR code displayed on its screen. Several files appeared in front of him a moment later.
Each file was very simple. A single photo took up the top left half of the page, and beside it were basic information such as name, age, and affiliation. Below was a short description, and under that was what is widely considered the most important part of such files: the prize.
[Bounty hunting.] Volcan spoke with a hint of surprise. [I see now.]
That’s right. Each of the files was a wanted poster, and looking at the photos attached to them, the targets didn’t look exactly like upstanding people. Not that the ones issuing those bounties were any different.
’You wanted to know what I did back in the day, right?’ Dante thought internally. ’Well, this is it.’
Once on the streets, there weren’t many ways one could earn a living, especially if you were underage. It was either take the illegal route or die, and Dante had long since made his choice. He tried a few things here and there, but in the end, he settled on one in particular: Red Marking.
Countless gangs ruled the streets of Neo-Vatra. Some small, others large. The clashes between those gangs are always chaotic, bloody, and lead to great losses a lot of the time. Because of that, the gangs had come up with a simple solution—outsource some of the fighting to nonmembers.
’At first, I only picked the bounties posted online.’ Dante said. ’But one time I slipped up and got caught.’
Dante recounted the incident, which he remembered more fondly than he should. While hunting a member of a certain gang, he got caught and taken to their boss. Back then, it looked like he was going to die, but instead of killing him, the boss gave him a list and told him to pick a target.
[So the people in these lists are members of rival gangs?] Volcan asked.
’Yup. You see the chains on that guy’s arms?’ Dante glanced up at the shopkeeper. ’Those mean he’s a part of Los Aros. The bastards control almost half of Nightsun and a small chunk of Red Hill.’
The bigger gangs usually have members working at places such as bars and gun shops, or take protection money from them. Either way, those shops usually carry a list of targets the gang wants to get rid of, but doesn’t want to risk their members doing it, which is why they leave it to nonmembers.
’Normally, these hits are done by kids hoping to join the gang. It’s a way to prove themselves.’
[Oooh, that is why the shopkeeper was hesitant to show you the list.]
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