After returning to the company, Lance took everyone to the western cliffs near the port to test the handguns. The area was desolate, quiet, and ideal for practice. The crashing waves against the rocks masked the sound of gunfire, ensuring they wouldn’t attract attention.
Lance set up makeshift targets and encouraged everyone to take turns shooting.
This was the Federation, where freedoms extended to a shocking degree. The idea of avoiding firearms in gang disputes was laughable. In fact, Lance had heard of gang conflicts in other cities escalating to the use of armored vehicles. A few rounds from handguns were practically tame by comparison.
Much like luxury cars, firearms held a special appeal to men—and even the two women in the group eagerly tried their hand at shooting.
The weapons were small-caliber McGray revolvers, standard-issue police sidearms. Reliable but not thrilling. Lance suspected they had been sourced from the police themselves. The Federation had little fondness for small-caliber arms, favoring hunting rifles and assault weapons, but such details didn’t concern him.
The guns were in excellent condition, as if barely used. The bearded supplier had assured Lance that the barrels were re-machined, eliminating any forensic link to past crimes.
This precaution was essential. Stories of criminals unknowingly buying weapons tied to prior murders were common. Lance had once heard of a hapless man who bought a gun from the black market and used it in a robbery. Though he fired only warning shots and stole a mere few dollars, the gun’s link to a multi-victim murder in another state sealed his fate—he was sentenced to the electric chair.
To avoid such traps, Lance trusted only reputable suppliers.
As the group excitedly tested the firearms, Elvin pulled Lance aside. “Do we really need these weapons?” he asked hesitantly.
Lance handed Elvin a cigarette, lighting one for himself before replying. “How much have we earned this week?”
Elvin answered softly, “Four thousand four hundred and sixty-one dollars.”
He knew the number by heart—it represented not just their collective income but also his share of nearly 900 dollars. With three days left in the week, they were on track to earn enough that each person would pocket 40 to 50 dollars.
That kind of money had once been unimaginable.
Lance nodded approvingly. “I’m impressed you remember the exact figure, Elvin. You’ve got a knack for numbers.”
But then his tone shifted, serious and sharp. “Do you realize how many people out there would do something crazy for $4,461?”
“Some will pull a gun for a few bucks. If word gets out that a group of illegal immigrants is raking in thousands every month, what do you think will happen?”
Elvin’s pupils dilated slightly as he absorbed Lance’s words. For a moment, he felt a familiar but foolish instinct: I just want to live my life and avoid trouble.
But this was the Federation—a land where fortunes and failures intertwined daily. Without the means to protect your money, wealth became a death sentence.
“Have you heard of Mr. Jobav?” Lance asked.
Elvin nodded, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. “He’s famous. An Empire immigrant, isn’t he? Rumored to own a bank.”
“I spoke to him last week. He’s been extorted for tens of thousands of dollars over time. And do you know what he did? He tried to recover a fraction of it—through someone else. He didn’t dare confront the issue himself.”
Lance fixed Elvin with a hard stare. “If even someone like Jobav can be robbed and bullied, what about us?”
“What would you do if someone showed up right now, demanded all your money, and told you to get out of the Federation?”
Without waiting for an answer, Lance declared, “I’d give them a bullet to send them straight to hell!”
He laughed, clapping Elvin on the shoulder. “Be a wolf. It’s better to inspire fear than to live as a dog that gets kicked around.”
“I’d rather see each of you in prison for life for fighting back than hear about your bodies being dumped in the sewers!”
Back at the office, the group returned energized. The experience of earning good money and firing guns had given them newfound confidence.
“Lance, Ennio called earlier,” someone informed him.
Lance nodded, taking the message to his office. He dialed the number. “It’s Lance,” he said when Ennio picked up.
“They’ve moved into a new place. They haven’t come out since. The location is…”
Lance jotted down the address. “Are you safe?”
Ennio hesitated briefly, touched by the concern in Lance’s voice. “Yes, they didn’t spot us. What’s the plan now?”
“Stay put. I’m on my way.”
Back in the main room, Lance gathered his crew. “I’ve got something dangerous for us,” he began.
“There’s a guy named Kent. He ripped me off for $1,500. I’m going to settle things with him, but there’s a chance it’ll involve guns—and injuries. Who’s coming with me?”
Lance didn’t pressure anyone. He understood not everyone was cut out for violence. A scared, unwilling participant could become a liability in a fight. It was better to leave them behind than to risk their hesitation jeopardizing the group.
Elvin and Ethan immediately raised their hands. Mello hesitated, volunteering to stay behind and manage the office unless Lance specifically needed him.
Lance respected Mello’s decision. Among them, Mello was the most mature and level-headed. If things went sideways, someone needed to stabilize the rest.
Ultimately, most of the group chose to join.
“Lock the doors and wait for me to come back,” Lance instructed. “If we don’t return, go to Mr. Coty for help.”
The group piled into three cars and drove toward the Imperial District.
Meanwhile, Kent had just woken up. He’d gone to bed late the night before, exhausted from the move. Despite being the boss, he still had to help with heavy lifting and cleaning.
The stifling heat made sleeping difficult. Finally, drenched in sweat, Kent sat up and cursed. “Damn this weather! I heard there’s something called air conditioning that cools rooms. Anyone know how much it costs?”
Shuffling into a small room, he turned on the water and took a cold shower. His hairy body, resembling a gorilla’s, glistened under the running water.
Back in the main room, Kent barked, “Turn on the fans! What’s for lunch? Anyone know a good restaurant nearby?”
He had no idea that Lance and his crew were already on their way.