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墨書 Inktalez
As Mark was lost in his troubled thoughts, his phone suddenly vibrated beside him, the screen lighting up with a faint glow that seemed particularly glaring in the darkness. He frowned, impatiently reaching for the device and swiping the screen with his fingertip. The message came from a familiar alias: "Cat199."
Mark raised an eyebrow slightly; this contact usually meant trouble and money. He opened the message, revealing a simple line of text on the screen:
"I know you're still awake. Interested in doing something big? (´・ω・｀)"
The emoticon at the end deepened Mark's frown. He had always found such casual and somewhat foolish symbols unbearable, especially at three in the morning when he was already feeling agitated. The words on the screen seemed to taunt him, intensifying his irritation. He gritted his teeth and tossed the phone back onto the pillow, shutting his eyes tightly in an attempt to ignore the message.
However, that inexplicable anger and the phrase "doing something big" lodged itself in his mind like a seed. Mark opened his eyes again, his gaze returning to the phone as he reached for it once more. He stared at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to cold determination.
"Money, and murder," he thought coldly to himself, "perhaps this is the only distraction from this boring night."
Though his mood did not improve, the prospect of a substantial income along with a life taken provided a slight release for his agitation. He replied with a curt word: "Address."
Then he tossed the phone aside, sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp, casting a dim light across the dark room. He picked up the gleaming knife from the table, a slight smirk forming on his lips as he revealed a cold smile. Although Cat199's foolish style irritated him, if it meant he could kill someone next, he didn't mind tolerating this minor annoyance.
Almost immediately after Mark sent his reply, Cat199 flooded him with a series of messages filled with annoyingly silly emoticons:
"(≧∇≦)/" "(✧∇✧)" "ヽ(♡‿♡)ノ"
Mark stared at the screen, his brow furrowing even tighter as veins throbbed at his temples. He began to regret replying to that message in the first place. This guy's style was never likable, especially when he was already in such a foul mood. Just as he contemplated blocking Cat199 altogether, detailed mission information popped up on the screen.
"Location: Mistwood, Warehouse Code X17."
"Target: A new batch of smuggled weapons from the Snakebite Gang. This shipment is worth a fortune, and they plan to distribute it to the underground forces throughout Shadow City. But we know you play with fire better than they do, don’t you?"
The message ended with a cheeky smiley face.
Mark stared at the text on the screen, his lips twitching slightly. His fingers unconsciously tapped against the back of his phone, and the frustration in his heart gradually gave way to calmness. The name Snakebite Gang was known and feared in the underworld of Shadow City. Although he had little interest in the power struggles between gangs, if the goal was to thwart this bunch of snakes' plans completely, he wouldn’t mind adding fuel to the fire—perhaps even making it burn brighter.
He glanced again at the proposal for a "fireworks party," letting out a cold snort. Although Cat 199's words were often superfluous, this mission was right up his alley. Flames, explosions, destruction—these were the stages suited for someone like him. He replied with a terse message: "Received."
Cat 199 responded with an excited emoticon.
Mark locked his phone and tossed it aside, standing up to prepare his gear. A glint of cold light flashed in his eyes as he silently thought: Since the Snakebite Gang loves fire, he would give them a grand fireworks show—a display bright enough to light up the night sky of Shadow City.
Mark pushed open the door and stepped into another dimly lit room. The walls were lined with various tools and accessories, while several large cabinets against the wall were his true destination. He skillfully pulled open one of the cabinet doors, revealing an orderly array of weapons and explosives, as if it were an arsenal prepared for a large-scale demolition operation.
The metallic sheen of a rifle glinted under the faint light, accompanied by a whole box of ammunition nearby. Without hesitation, Mark reached for the rifle, quickly checking the chamber before loading a magazine. His movements were as fluid as breathing, without a hint of pause. He turned around to grab a backpack and began stuffing it with explosives and grenades, meticulously checking each type of explosive device before placing it into the bag.
With each piece of equipment he added, a slight smile crept onto his lips. The thought of impending flames and explosions made his heart race involuntarily, excitement flashing in his eyes. He wanted not just to destroy a warehouse but to turn it into another legend for Shadow City—a flame dance that no one could ignore.
After ensuring all his gear was ready, Mark put on his headset and pressed the connection button. A cheerful greeting immediately came through the earpiece; it was Cat 199’s altered voice, deliberately cute as if truly mimicking a cat's tone: "Mark~ Are you online? Meow~"
Mark paused for a moment, his expression shifting from excitement to impatience in an instant. He coldly replied, "Cut the act; let's get down to business."
The voice on the other end let out a playful "Meow~" before continuing, "Alright, alright, Boss Mark! Are you ready? This is going to be quite a show! Meow~"
Mark took a deep breath, ignoring the playful tone of Cat 199, and slung his backpack over his shoulder, the rifle resting on his back. He stepped towards the door, a cold smile creeping onto his lips as he replied softly, "I'm ready."
Tonight, he would make the Snakebite Gang understand what true destruction meant.
He walked into the garage, his gaze landing on the muscle car parked in the corner. The vehicle was as black as night, its streamlined body resembling a beast poised to pounce. The massive tires were caked with mud, a testament to the terrain it had conquered. He opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, tossing his backpack onto the passenger seat. With a gentle twist of the key, the engine roared to life, its deep growl echoing through the garage like a beast's roar.
A slight smirk appeared on Mark's face as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. He slammed down on the accelerator, and the car shot forward like an arrow, tires screeching against the pavement. The roar of the engine reverberated in the garage while the taillights carved a crimson line through the darkness, gradually fading away at the exit.
Wasteland City was dim and chaotic at night; the streets were deserted yet dangerous, flickering neon lights illuminating crumbling buildings and pothole-ridden roads. Mark's car darted through the shadows of the night, its engine sound like a death knell resonating in the sleeping city. His expression was steely as he held onto the steering wheel with steady hands; speed increased as if this reckless drive could slightly ease his pent-up fury.
In his ear, Cat 199's voice chimed in again, still carrying that irreverent cheerfulness: "Mark~ Just a little heads-up! According to reliable sources, there are about eighty people in Warehouse X17. Yep, eighty." There was a brief pause before adding, "And they might have heavy firepower—machine guns, rocket launchers... I suggest you avoid a frontal assault; ambush is safer, meow~"
Upon hearing this, Mark's brow furrowed slightly, but a disdainful smirk played at his lips. His right hand tightened around the steering wheel as he pressed down harder on the accelerator, making Wasteland City's scenery blur into shadowy figures outside his window.
"Ambush?" Mark muttered under his breath, his tone laced with cold disappointment at this suggestion. A flicker of fervor ignited in his eyes; Cat 199's words only fueled his anger further. "No, I won’t settle for an ambush." His voice was low yet resolute, as if declaring to himself.
He leaned forward slightly, sharpening his gaze. "A frontal assault is my style," Mark added coldly, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel as excitement coursed through him for what lay ahead. "I will show them what true hell looks like."
A light sigh came through Cat 199's earpiece, seemingly resigned to Mark's stubbornness but hesitant to truly stop him: "Alright then~ Boss, you said it yourself; don’t come back saying I didn’t warn you. Have fun…!"
Mark scoffed lightly and dismissed any further response. His eyes burned with fervent battle intent as he floored the accelerator once more; the vehicle emitted a low growl akin to a ferocious beast charging into the night towards Mistwood. He knew he would deliver an unforgettable inferno feast for this city's underground forces in the most violent and direct way possible.
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