Aslan Khalifa picked up the hot sandwich, opened his mouth and took a bite. Clear teeth marks were left on the whole wheat bread slices, peanut butter mixed with gravy and butter, and the delicious taste spread on his tongue.
He took two big bites, frowned, and then raised his eyes.
Wherever he looked, people in the entire restaurant trembled and lowered their heads for fear of being noticed by him.
But Aslan didn't look at them. His eyes moved to the face of the trembling waiter behind the counter: "I said I wanted Thunder brand peanut butter, but this is obviously not it."
"I'm sorry, sir..." the waiter said boldly, almost crying, "but my Thunder brand peanut butter has been sold out today..."
"Really? That's too bad." Aslan shook his head, "Then it looks like your life has been used up."
He directly raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
A bunch of bullets were swept out, and the poor waiter was immediately beaten into a sieve. Immediately after the muzzle of the gun was turned, blood spattered in the restaurant, the table was beaten, wood chips were flying everywhere, and the windows were closed with a continuous clanging sound.
It exploded into countless pieces.
The magazine was emptied in an instant, and there was a mechanical clicking sound in the gun chamber. Aslan shook the somewhat heated firearm, threw it aside, and took a sip from the drink at hand.
There was no longer half a living person in the entire restaurant.
He sat in a messy restaurant, calmly continuing to eat his sandwich among the corpses, as if he was just doing a trivial thing.
"You could have saved your ammunition."
A voice sounded nearby. The phantom he called "Destruction" appeared out of thin air, standing in a pool of blood, coldly sweeping over the corpses everywhere.
"I can totally handle it, I just need you to think about it." Phantom said.
"I know." Aslan continued to eat the sandwich, "I'm just more used to doing it myself. The kind of feedback when you shoot bullets through the flesh, the kind of feedback of watching them being torn apart and spurting out blood...
You'll ruin the pleasure."
"It's just that you haven't gotten used to it yet." Phantom said, "We are already the same person."
"Maybe." Aslan hummed, ate the sandwich and sucked the remaining juice on his fingers.
Destruction reminder: "The noise you made is a bit loud, and someone may come soon."
"Hmph, I wish I could."
Although he said this, he still stood up and walked out of the restaurant, and it seemed that he did not intend to confront the pursuer head-on for the time being.
He longs for destruction and fighting, but not here. He pursues exposure and likes the way his masterpieces are admired. Going to war with his pursuers in such an inconspicuous little place is not only disadvantageous to him, but also fails to satisfy his needs.
On the other hand, he also felt that he still needed some time to adapt.
Huge changes have taken place in his body, changes that even he himself cannot adapt to immediately. He needs time to understand this change, to get used to the phantom in his body, and how to use his ability to adapt to it.
But no matter what, Aslan felt that he had never felt so wonderful in his life. It was as if this was his innate power, and he was becoming the person he was destined to be, but now it was like a dream.
Awake.
Several ideas and the prototype of some plans have flashed through his mind. Now that he has been reborn, he must naturally draw a clear line between himself and his outdated self. He must do better than before and prepare a grander feast.
, leaving an unforgettable mark on this city and the world, completing the most outstanding work of his life.
He just hasn't figured out what to do yet.
As soon as he went out, Aslan saw a black car parked on the roadside. The window was rolled down, and a well-dressed man was sitting inside, waving to him.
"Mr. Khalifa." The man smiled, "I just saw you having a meal, so I didn't bother you. But if you can take time out of your busy schedule to chat with me, I believe it will be beneficial to both of us."
"Oh?" Aslan stopped and became interested, "Want to chat? With me?"
"Maybe it's a trap." Destruction reminded.
"Heh, that's better. Say it like I care."
Aslan snorted, strode forward and got into the car. The door closed and the car quickly drove out along the street.
"My name is Iwanaga Naoya." The man introduced himself with a smile, "We have never met, but I have long admired your name..."
But midway through his words, Aslan interrupted him.
"I know you, the CEO of Sojitz Technology." Aslan said expressionlessly, "I watch the news."
"It's easy to say that you know me." Naoya Iwanaga narrowed his eyes, "I'm looking for you because I want to make a deal."
Aslan made a vague nasal noise.
"You should have no shortage of better business partners than me."
"In this matter? No, you are the best choice, because you are the only professional." Naoya Iwanaga said, "I know you, I have read your file...ah, I am
Say, I admire your masterpiece. Your work is impressive and has never been matched by anyone.
I know you're after killing and destruction, and you need attention, need people to know that's what you do. And I just want you to do what you do best, and that should be a pretty good deal for you, because that should be
This was your plan.
The difference is that I will pay you a large amount of money, an amount that may be many times more than the total amount you have grabbed in the past. And I will also arrange a complete escape route for you and prepare
A vehicle and a false identity give you a chance to escape."
Iwanaga Naoya paused and chuckled: "This should still be pretty good for you, right? I have seen your previous works. Every time you act, you are clean and neat, and you are always as eye-catching as possible.
But the escape plan is not the part you are good at, and I can help you with this part."
As he spoke, he tried to read something from the madman's eyes. But unfortunately, he could only see a dark abyss, and there was nothing in it.
"Conditions?" Aslan said dryly, "You can't pay for nothing."
"Of course, but this is a piece of cake for you." Naoya Iwanaga said with a smile, "My condition is that you need to use the weapons and some special equipment we provide when you do it.
I guarantee these will be better and better than any equipment you can get."
As he spoke, the assistant in the front seat handed over a small box. Naoya Iwanaga opened the box and saw a special pistol lying quietly inside.
A model that had never been seen on the market, a custom-made firearm. Aslan picked it up and inspected it, and soon discovered its difference.
There is a logo on the back of the gun that reads "Stark".
Aslan raised his eyebrows: "Stark...one of your competitors?"
"Ha, it seems like you don't watch the news very often." Naoya Iwanaga smiled, "This guy's name is everywhere now. It's not easy to ignore this name while living on this planet."
"It's been a bit busy these two days." Aslan leaned back in his seat and said lazily, "You know, first there was the death penalty, and then this, it almost never stopped.
I don’t have time to pay attention to big things. Tell me a little bit about who this guy is?”
"A guy who is beyond the scope of a competitor is a natural enemy that all of us can kill." Naoya Iwanaga said coldly, "That lunatic in armor broke the rules of the game, tried to overturn the table, and ate the whole thing himself.
piece of cake.
He is suppressing our space and taking away what belongs to us. If he thinks that we are completely helpless, he is totally wrong.
Yes, he's never made a gun, but that doesn't matter. As long as someone takes a dozen weapons - a weapon with his name on it - and goes on a killing spree, doubts will arise.
There are many people who don't care whether things are true or false. Many people are already dissatisfied with him, and this is just an opportunity.
You are only responsible for being the fuse, we have our own professional team to handle matters that stir up trouble."
"I see."
Aslan Khalifa forced a smile.
"You want to buy an explosive piece of negative PR."
He is trying to mobilize public opinion to put pressure on his competitors, using the same old-fashioned method, but this time the method is even more outrageous.
"So, your answer?" Naoya Iwanaga asked.
"Can."
Aslan turned the special pistol around in his hand.
"As long as the money is available."
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