Chapter 443: Model Sector
The Two Tigers sector sat on the southern flank of The Inside.
Unlike Three Wolves, which had been unified under General Zhang's military
regime, Two Tigers had historically been a meat grinder of fragmented gangs
waging endless, petty turf wars.
At least, that was how it used to be.
Right now, Three Wolves was basking in the serene peace and harmony of the "Ren
Shiroki Style" ecosystem. Two Tigers, meanwhile, was supposed to have been the
proving ground for [THE WILD TIGER] Takeshi Wakatsuki—only to be annexed by the
mysterious invader who had breached Seven Ohma.
"And that's the briefing," Himuro Ryo mumbled, cigarette bouncing between his
lips as he glanced at the 193-kilogram titan beside him. "Wakatsuki-san, I heard
you were a straight shooter. Didn't expect you to play hard to get."
Wakatsuki gave an easy, self-deprecating smile. "To be fair, not many people
casually walk up to strike up a chat with me."
"Yeah... fair point," Himuro nodded.
Looking back at the warehouse lot where Wakatsuki had left cratered fist-prints
deep enough to look like missile strikes, Himuro couldn't blame the locals. With
a frame packing fifty-two times normal human muscle density, combined with the
title of the winningest fighter in Kengan history, only suicidal lunatics would
try striking up casual conversation.
Ren Shiroki strolled at the front of the pack, hands in his pockets. "Chairman
Furumi, Cosmo Imai, and my little sister all get along great with
Wakatsuki-aniki."
Wakatsuki added with a nod, "And Olympic track star Gozo Murobuchi. He and I are
on good terms as well."
The four of them traded idle banter while staying sharp, weaving through the
labyrinthine alleys of Two Tigers.
Gradually, a few local residents began appearing along the verandas and stoops.
Ren looked around with genuine curiosity.
Just as Himuro had noted earlier: the apex predator of Three Wolves had crossed
the border, and an inevitable territorial collision was looming. And entrenched
within Two Tigers was a monster formidable enough to make the Wild Tiger himself
concede defeat!
As the thought crossed his mind, they rounded a corner and came face-to-face
with a pack of street gangsters.
The morning chill still lingered, so the gang had crowded around a metal drum
fire, laughing and trading crude jokes. In a lawless gutter like The Inside,
spotting unarmed outsiders was an open invitation for violence.
"Heh..."
Himuro smirked, his posture relaxing. "Once they try to shake us down, we'll
beat the local layout out of their mouths. Classic Ward etiquette."
The crew braced for a brief warm-up scrap.
Yet as they walked past, the gangsters didn't even twitch. They didn't glance at
their pipes. They didn't bare their teeth. They completely ignored the
intruders.
"—Huh?" Himuro blinked, thrown off.
These weren't General Zhang's disciplined mercenaries. Why didn't these street
thugs show an ounce of hostility? They didn't even bother barking a generic
threat!
A second later, the gangsters stood up, reaching for heavy sledgehammers and
crowbars leaned against the wall.
Himuro smirked. There we go. Right on cue!
Except the gangsters didn't turn toward Ren's group.
They turned toward a decaying, condemned tenement beside them.
"Alright, clear the drop zone! Don't stand under the eaves!" "Heave-ho!" "Work
time, boys, let's move!" "Hey, who walked off with my hard hat...?!"
The thugs hurriedly strapped on bright yellow industrial hard hats. Instead of
brandishing their tools as weapons, they began methodically demolishing the
cracked brickwork with practiced, civil-engineering coordination!
Himuro froze, cigarette nearly falling from his lips.
Urban development in The Inside was universally infamous for being a lawless
disaster. Outlaws threw up haphazard shanties wherever they pleased, blocking
roads and stealing power lines without a care for anyone else. Even when
buildings were torn down, it was done with Molotovs during turf wars.
Since when did street thugs wear OSHA-compliant hard hats?!
"Uh... excuse me," Himuro called out, unable to contain his bewilderment. "This
is Two Tigers, right? What in God's name are you guys doing?"
The lead thug turned around. He still had the scarred, menacing mug of a
hardened killer, but the bright plastic safety helmet on his head severely
undercut his intimidation factor.
"You tourists?" the foreman grunted, eyeing their clean clothes with mild
irritation. "Can't you tell? We're rebuilding the sector. Boss's orders. He said
the urban planning here is an eyesore and an embarrassment."
"If you're looking for a brawl, take it to another district. Don't go pissing
off the new Boss of Two Tigers."
The remarkably polite, civic-minded answer left Himuro completely speechless.
First Three Wolves turns into a peace-and-love commune, and now Two Tigers is
running public works projects?! Is this still The Inside?!
Himuro's eyebrow twitched. "Where is this new Boss of yours right now?"
"Camped out near the border between Two Tigers and One Dragon. There's a field
staging ground over there. He was still sleeping when I checked in this
morning."
The foreman waved dismissively, pointing toward a pile of rubble. "Hey, kid! Do
me a favor and wheel that barrow over here, will ya?"
Ren looked at the wheelbarrow. "Me?"
Ren: "Sure thing!"
Ren actually pushed the wheelbarrow full of bricks over to the crew. Terrified
that the outlaws would try to conscript them into an unpaid municipal
road-paving crew, the group hurriedly said their goodbyes and pressed deeper
into the sector.
The deeper they walked, the stranger it became.
Unlike the "pure suppression" Ren had imposed on Three Wolves, the ecosystem
taking root in Two Tigers was focused on Urban Renewal.
The lawless squalor had vanished. In its place, hardened syndicate outlaws were
being forced into hard labor—demolishing hazardous structures, neatly rerouting
tangled power cables, clearing access lanes, and eliminating structural fire
hazards.
At this rate, Two Tigers was going to be certified as Tokyo's next model
residential community!
Guided by the foreman's directions, the four approached the One Dragon border,
eventually spotting the camp.
It was humble. Compared to General Zhang's fortified headquarters, this outpost
consisted of only a few unpainted shacks and a handful of canvas tents in a dirt
courtyard.
Pale morning light crept over the rooftops.
Several sentries stationed at the perimeter spotted the four newcomers. Among
them were fighters who had clashed with Wakatsuki at the gate the previous
morning. They snapped to attention, but the terror in their eyes wasn't aimed at
the Wild Tiger.
"Hold on, hold on..."
A sentry stepped forward, hands raised in an anxious plea for peace.
"If you need to rest, help yourselves to the water. But no brawling, and no
territorial claims. We're done fighting."
The sentry darted a terrified glance toward one of the shanties, lowering his
voice to a frantic whisper.
"If another gang war breaks out in Two Tigers... we'll wake up Mr. 2."
Mr. 2?
Fusui and Himuro exchanged blank stares, unable to match the moniker to any
known Kengan fighter or underground assassin.
Takeshi Wakatsuki nodded slowly. "So that's the title he goes by?"
Ren blinked, the gears in his mind spinning at redline until the puzzle pieces
suddenly snapped together.
Mr. 2?! The Second Unchained?!
"SHHHH!!"
The sentry jammed an index finger against his lips, his face pale with dread.
"Keep your voices down! He's still asleep, but that man's ears pick up
everything. Talking behind his back is an express ticket to the hospital!"
The sentry's sheer terror directed everyone's gaze toward the modest shanty. The
air around the building seemed heavy, radiating a distinct, untamed pressure.
Just what kind of monster was this "Mr. 2"?!
The group decided to wait.
As the sun finally crested the skyline, a sudden sound broke the morning quiet.
Yet to everyone's shock—even Ren's—the noise didn't come from inside the shack.
It came from a weathered, rusted metal storage locker bolted to the wall right
outside the front door!
It was a narrow utility locker barely large enough to fit a single man standing
upright.
CLANG-CREAK!
The locker door was violently kicked open from within.
A man stepped out into the sunlight.
He wasn't particularly tall—around 178 cm (5'10"). He was young, sporting a
lean, corded musculature beneath an open, loose-fitting denim utility jumpsuit.
His facial features were deep and rugged, framed by stubble along his jawline
and medium-length hair bound securely beneath a vivid teal bandana.
He was sleeping... inside a standing locker?!
While the group was still processing the anatomical absurdity of his sleeping
arrangements, the bandana-clad young man broke into a brilliant, radiant grin.
He raised a hand, waving to everyone in the courtyard with roaring enthusiasm:
"Good morning, Everyone!"
"Oho! Fresh guests in the camp? Welcome! The name's Guevara!"
Ren stared at the man's face, his pupils quivering as the lore clicked into
absolute focus.
No mistake about it.
The man standing before them was the legendary [MR. 2] Jun Guevara!
His title was intrinsically tied to the legend of [MR. UNCHAINED] Biscuit Oliva.
Oliva was hailed as the "Freest Man on Earth"—a biological singularity so
overwhelming that the United States government had been forced to grant him
sovereign diplomatic status.
And this man, Jun Guevara, was the second generation of that freedom. A
revolutionary warrior who had brought the military might of a global superpower
to its knees on his sovereign island nation!
Under normal circumstances, Mr. 2 would have traveled to the Arizona State
Penitentiary to challenge Biscuit Oliva on his own turf.
Yet in the end, the venue didn't matter.
Whether it was an unfree prison or the lawless wilderness of The Inside... to
Jun Guevara, a duel for freedom was identical anywhere on earth!
☆☆☆
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