Chapter 19: The Night Shift
The first stash house was a laundromat in District 3. It was a front for a cocaine processing lab.
Max didn't use stealth. He drove the Dodge Charger through the front window.
Glass shattered, machines crunched, and chaos erupted. Before the dust settled, Max was out of the car. He moved like a blur of violence. He didn't use guns; he used his fists and feet, conserving ammo, conserving time.
He kicked a dryer off its mount, sending it sliding into two guards, pinning them against the wall. He grabbed a bag of raw product, slit it open, and dumped it into the industrial washing machine. He turned it on.
"Cleaned," Max deadpanned.
He left the building in flames three minutes after arriving. The Hellions, following in the van, barely had time to secure the perimeter before Max was already back in his car, revving the engine.
"Next," Max commanded over the comms.
The second target was an illegal casino in the basement of a church.
Max kicked the door down. The bouncers fired. Max didn't dodge; he used a heavy oak table as a shield, charging forward like a battering ram. He smashed the table into the gunmen, crushing them against the bar.
He flipped the roulette tables. He threw the slot machines. He wasn't just destroying; he was performing. He wanted the stories to spread. He wanted the survivors to tell Kaelen that a monster had come in the night.
He moved with infinite stamina. His breathing never changed. His heart rate never spiked. While the Hellions were panting, sweating, and reloading, Max was a machine of perpetual motion.
By 4:00 AM, they reached the third target. An armory hidden in a meatpacking plant.
This one was heavily guarded. Twenty men. Automatic weapons.
"Boss, we need a plan for this one," Graves said, looking at the fortified gate.
"I am the plan," Max said.
He activated his Trance again. He scaled the ten-foot fence in a single bound, defying gravity. He landed in the courtyard. The floodlights hit him.
"Open fire!"
Max sprinted. He ran faster than the turrets could track. He was a shadow amidst the searchlights. He reached the generator and ripped the cables out with his bare hands. Sparks showered him like fireworks. The facility went dark.
Then, the screams began.
Max hunted in the dark. He possessed Night Vision—a passive perk from his earlier deal. To him, the darkness was noon. To them, it was a tomb.
He dismantled the crew one by one. He broke rifles in half. He threw men through wooden crates.
By the time the sun began to crest over the horizon, the meatpacking plant was silent. Max stood atop a pile of confiscated weapons—RPGs, assault rifles, explosives.
He lit a match and dropped it onto a trail of gasoline leading to the pile.
Whoosh.
The fire roared to life, illuminating Max's silhouette. He turned to Graves, who looked at him with a mix of awe and terror.
"Three strikes," Max said. "Kaelen is bleeding."
Status Update: Territory Conquered (x3).
Reputation: Fearmonger.
Experience Threshold Reached.