Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine Chapter 50 Hostage Situation, Toxic Buildup, Explosive Concl

Anthony Black placed a trembling finger on his comm device and barked into it. His voice was shaky but loud enough to cut through the murmurs of the terrified crowd.

"Security! Where the hell are you──!"

Before he could finish, Trickshot, who was still resting against his trolley, raised a hand and pointed at him lazily.

Before Anthony could finish, Trickshot, still casually leaning against his trolley, raised one hand and pointed at him lazily.

"Ah-ah, big guy. Be smart. Put it down."

Anthony froze as his hand hovered over the comm.

Trickshot's smile widened as he gestured to the crowd.

"And that goes for everyone. If I see a comm device or even a phone in anyone's hand…"

He lazily tapped his remote.

"… I'll blow soone's fucking brains out. Got it?"

The room fell into a tense silence.

The room froze.

Whispers turned to silence as the guests frantically lowered their devices onto tables, the floor… anywhere, as long as they were out of sight.

Then, a soft clatter.

In the back of the room, a woman with trembling hands struggled to put her phone down. It slipped from her grip and landed on the floor with a soft thud that seed louder in the silence. She froze on the spot, like a lone flower facing the first frost of winter.

Trickshot sighed dramatically and shook his head.

"See, this is why we can't have nice things."

His thumb pressed a button on the remote.

From a distant building, another sniper fired.

… click────BANG!!

The phase-bullet zipped across the venue and ripped through the chest of an unsuspecting guest.

Blood splattered as the victim crumpled to the floor.

The room erupted into fresh chaos.

"NOOOO!"

"OH MY GOD!"

"HELP US!"

Trickshot exhaled slowly, like a tired parent scolding misbehaving children.

"Co on, people. I thought I made myself perfectly clear. No devices. You' re making do this."

He spread his arms tiredly.

"Now, let's try this again. Another screw-up, and one of you rich heads… well, you won't have one anymore."

The crowd recoiled and instinctively took small steps back.

They were desperate to put space between themselves and the madman with the remote.

In the throng of terrified guests, Scott moved quietly to blend into the sea of trembling bodies.

His watch vibrated subtly.

[SYSTEM NOTICE: LIVESTREAM INITIATED.]

He sighed as his watch screen displayed the stream feed.

The chat section quickly exploded with activity:

[WTF IS THIS??]

[Holy crap, look at the blood!!]

[Wait… isn't that Harold Fitz? The real estate tycoon??]

[OMG it IS! He was on Forbes last month!!]

[LMAO RIP HAROLD, MONEY CAN'T SAVE U NOW.]

[Where's Nightwatch?? Is he even here?!]

[Pretty sure he's in the crowd, guys ( ˘･з･) No mask = unrecognizable, though.]

[Dude, not the ti for philosophy.]

[SHUT UP, THIS IS SERIOUS!]

[Guys, THAT'S TRICKSHOT! He's 23rd on the UN's GSI ASSASSIN RANKINGS!]

[No freaking way. Trickshot's HERE?! We're screwed.]

[TRICKSHOT IS SO COOL.]

[Are you SICK? He's KILLING people! ( "･ω･ﾞ)…]

[Oh my god, soone HELP THEM. NIGHTWATCH DO SOTHING!! ｡ ｡ ゛(ﾉ>