Oliver straightened up then saluted once more. Dante was going to ask him why he keeps doing that, but decided otherwise. The longer that conversation went on, the worse his head would hurt afterward.
Leaning back in his chair, Dante tried to relax, only to notice that the new guy wasn’t gone.
"Still need sothing?"
"Actually, I have one question..."
Dante clicked his tongue, feeling the growing headache.
"What is it?"
"Boss," The smile vanished from Oliver’s face, and he turned serious all of a sudden. "Which one do you go by, the Red Demon, or the Cyberpunk?"
"Neither. Now, get out!"
"Got it!"
The door closed, and silence returned to the office. Dante felt that his exhaustion had increased quite a bit, and that’s just from talking to one guy. After sitting around for a few minutes, he got up and placed a hand on the ice box, sending it to his storage.
"Who the hell chooses his own moniker?"
Dante didn’t think Jaguar called him that, and neither did Blood Hound or the Pope. Dante tried not to give it much thought when he first heard about it, but now people were starting to call him that to his face. The worst part was that he couldn’t do anything about it.
’First it’s Ghost, now it’s Red Demon and Cyberpunk.’ He sighed. ’What am I? So comic book villain?’
To the teenager still living inside him, the nas sounded really cool. Still, he hoped that people would refrain from using them when he’s around.
Annoyed, Dante thought for a mont, then left the office, walking to a corner of the second-floor gym where several sandbags were lined up. One of them was slightly larger than the rest, but that wasn’t the only thing that was different about it.
Putting his jacket away, Dante took a boxing stance and then started throwing punches. He kept it to light jabs, not activating any of the 4-3’s abilities. The sandbag was supposedly reinforced to withstand Level 3 attacks. It held up pretty well, but Dante was sure that he could break it if he went all out.
It had been so ti since he last went to a gym, and nowadays, he didn’t have much reason to go to one. Punching the sandbag didn’t feel right, either. The feedback was gone, leaving only a vague impression caused by the movents of his body. His fists had grown more powerful, but punching things no longer felt as enjoyable.
[I am almost done working on it.] Volcan said out of nowhere.
’On what?’
[The sensory feedback.]
Dante tried searching his mind, but he failed to rember what his resident A was talking about.
[I suggested incorporating a function that mimics the sense of touch.] Volcan said. [It works by sending signals to your brain.]
’Did we... talk about this before?’
[Yes. When we were speaking after your surgery.]
’Oh, right.’
It had escaped his mind entirely, but they did discuss sothing similar. At the ti, Volcan had suggested it as a way to deal with the problem of his body feeling alien to him, but Dante forgot all about it two days later.
’It took you this long, and it’s still not done?’
[The sense of touch is quite complicated.] Volcan replied. [You do not want to feel like you are being cut by sothing sharp when you scratch your head, right?]
’I’m just a little surprised.’
Giving the sandbag one more punch, Dante took a deep breath, then picked up his jacket and went down to the bar. Looking around, he saw Oliver working diligently on cleaning the booth where he shot that geno. Carlos was sowhere in the back, but besides those two, no one was around.
’Well, it’s barely noon...’
Viktor’s words flashed in Dante’s mind, and that only caused him to grimace. In the end, he still believed that it would be for the best if he handled investigating Black Skull on his own.
’It wouldn’t hurt to take a look...’
He had free ti and nothing to do, so he decided to go take a look. Stepping out of the bar, Dante caught sight of a car slowly driving by. Nothing strange about it except that the four passengers looked straight at him, and whatever their reasons were, Dante could guess they weren’t up to anything good. Not with faces like those.
’Mind keeping tabs on them?’
[I have checked the security cams.] Volcan said. [They have been circling the area for an hour now.]
That alone was the confirmation Dante needed, so instead of walking over to his Raven, he decided to wait and see if those thugs were going to do what they planned on doing.
[They made a stop around the corner.] Volcan said.
’I think I have an idea what’s about to happen...’
Dante took in the surroundings once more. The place looked deserted at this ti of day. There weren’t that many civilians walking around, and the street rats loitering around practically worked for Red Rage, aning they knew who they shouldn’t ss with. Still, street rats weren’t known for their brains, so Dante guessed that so of them were watching the area and feeding the info to whoever those thugs were.
Pretending to yawn, Dante placed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and moved, making it seem like he was going for a walk. He only took a few steps when Volcan spoke again.
[They’re on the move.]
Dante heard the engine sound in the distance but didn’t bother to look back—he wasn’t suspecting anything, after all. There was nothing strange about a car driving by the entrance to the headquarters of the local gang.
The car slowed down as it approached his position, as if trying to sneak up on him, and once it was by his side, it seed to match his pace. That lasted for only a couple of steps. No sooner did Dante look to his right than rifles popped out from the windows and atop the car roof.
RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA
A storm of bullets raged, banishing the peace that had reigned on the street for a long while. The thugs grasped their weapons as if they were wild beasts threatening to escape. In only ten seconds, their ammo seed to run out. The shooters got back into the car, and all five of them drove off, wide grins on their faces. It was only once they were a couple block away that one of them spoke.
"Did we get him?"
The guy in the passenger seat was about to say sothing, but then he looked into the rear-view mirror. Seeing the red-haired youth in the middle seat, a sudden chill rolled over his body.
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