Heads up, readers. This novel was started by sheer laid-back hobby and joke by the author. The language of the beginning volumes might be childish and naive. I have tried my best to fix this fact with my limited knowledge of English. Bear with me, please.
Editable text of this chapter: click here
Translated by Tianic
Edited by LtBeefy
Earth, 2106 DC
Night, the night seemed so bright in the moonlight.
After exhausting myself on a young and attractive body, I was sleeping.
“Boss, it’s time.”
It was Rat knocking at the door.
Due to his unique way of life, Rat possessed a carefulness that’s not shown by an ordinary person.
I saved him while he was about to be beheaded by a drug dealer.
After that,Then he swore his loyalty to me. Within in 6 months, he had become became the second most powerful person within the gang.
I rose up from the bed, put on my clothes, and looked back. The white moonlight projected on a woman’s body, a perfect body, a body that was left with the residue of love and sex.
Afterward, I put my second life, a pair of P7 pistols, in the holsters underneath my arms.
“Stay here, baby.”
“Hurry up, I still want some more!”
I grinned, opened the door and walked downstairs.
Rat and the other brothers were waiting in the lobby. He rushed to me saying “Boss, we have intel from the other side. The package will be on time and the deal is on schedule. Two more hours and we are ready.”
I walked outside, took a deep breath, and looked at the sky.
The night’s full moon was shedding its magical silver light everywhere on this peaceful mid-autumn day.
“Time to go.” I jumped into the van, “Tell everyone to kill all and be careful. Afterward, let’s hit the club when we’re done.”
Several bulletproof vans took off and left the mansion. The guards at the gate saluted to my van.
To them, I was the center of the universe.
Now, do you know what I am?
I am the alpha dog, a gang leader.
(Wait for it…)
I am also a secret FBI agent. Being a gang leader is only a cover up.
On the FBI record, my name is Westley.
In this seemingly-highly-developed but in fact full-of-dirty-crap world, crimes happen at every corner of the world. In the meantime, the advancing criminal techniques made it harder for the authorities to execute justice. As a result, god-know-who from the government suggested fighting crime with the crime by selecting a team of elite special force and put them undercover.
Westley, a 21-year-old sub-lieutenant who got straight A’s in the strategy and tactics evaluations, hit the jackpot, unfortunately.
To rise in rank, and travel around the world with an early pension, Westley was forced to finish his boring army life early and instead step onto a gray path.
As for his mission, it was simple enough. It was nothing more than to eliminate the target quietly by what he was best at. Within three years, orders from up top tossed him in various cities. He spent his time chasing countless gangsters who were on the FBI’s hit list. Without exception, those people’s evil lives ended under the guns of Westley and his team.
Seeing lives disappearing in front of his eyes had made the innocent Westley numb and cold. As if those that died were worthless trash instead of living souls.
Every time Westley thought about his first mission as a gang newbie, that 120 bpm heartbeat made him feel ridiculous. Nevertheless, for a young man in his 20s, it was not easy. As a tool to execute the law, even though the target was a disgusting human being, the red liquid and gray matter that came out of the head after he fired his gun, and the twitching body lying in blood, made him throw up and stay frozen for a week.
Unavoidably, Westley was getting tired of this life, but his boss couldn’t stress enough that those people deserved it. Still, Westley felt he was a blood-stained human being. Partly because he was not a person who worshiped violence. However, his lack of ability had made it difficult to distinguish good and evil.
There was only one thing he knew, that he was a tool, a pretty handy and under-supervised tool. The existence of over-classified terms and conditions had made Westley’s commander do what he want without concern. Who knows what a tool like him is capable of, executing the law or creating a new crime.
But to Westley’s brothers, he was more than their boss. If one had to say something unique about this boss, he showed excessive passion in killing drug dealers. And of course, Westley’s boss was the commanding officer of the FBI anti-drug department.
Before signing that god-forsaken document, Westley had thought he could stay himself in any environment. However, he had found himself so naive once he truly was spending some time in that environment. What he’s gone through had made him from a reckless soldier to a completely cold-blooded gang leader. No matter what one carried in mind, in order to survive, one had to change. And precisely because of this change, led him to his fall.
The gang he founded had a couple of luxurious businesses in town which made their bank accounts richer as well. For this reason, Westley somehow started to like this job. He was capable of doing whatever he wanted and getting whatever he wanted. It is what it is, Westley was a leader, and nobody expected a gang leader to do things like a college professor.
“Boss, we’re receiving a third party transmission, it’s a military frequency.” Rat turned and said, “Sounds like a cipher.”
Westley took the com Rat handed over peacefully, put it in his ear, and overheard a low voice saying, “…tit, tit, the rabbit is out…” A while later, a second voice said, “Roger, carry on.”
Hearing this, Westly couldn’t help but get confused. This device was capable of receiving any communication within a radius of 50 km. Was there another operation happening tonight?
With this in mind, he took out his phone and dialed an unpleasant number, his boss’. The only person who knew his real identity.
Westley unavoidably shrugged, because sometimes even himself couldn’t tell what his real identity was.
“Shweker’s office,” the call went through several military satellites, a voice that was a little husky and yet soulful came into Westley’s ear, “ Identity please.”
“My prodigal son, it’s your old man,” Westley joked, not caring if he irritated anyone, “How have you been? Are you closing down the office and joining me or what?”
“This is a public channel, and I don’t want to remind you of that again,” the voice snorted and asked, “Problem?”
“No biggie, my men told me there are outsiders doing business in my territory,” Westley put away his arrogant voice and spoke coldly, “This is a holiday and I wanna spend it in silence.”
“Hold on,” After a few knocks on the keyboard, the voice said, “The Wildlife Authority has a team monitoring whales if they are the outsiders you’re talking about. I suggest you apply for an animal license in case I wanna break your arm someday.
“Anytime, you old dog.” Putting down the phone, Westley told Rat, “Irrelevant.”
In the meantime, in a flying vessel hovering 10,000 meters above, a man in a suit put down his phone, thinking deeply for a moment and told his deputy, “Tell the fleet, change the com frequency to the special channel. Put the first squad out of the mission and let them talk about whales using the old frequency. The second squad will do the monitoring… keep me posted.”
In less than 20 seconds, all kinds of voice were coming out of the speakers.
“Armored squad report, tanks, and battle vehicles in position, everything’s normal”
“Air squad report, gunship and transporter in position, everything’s normal.”
“Second squad report, we have locked the target, 16 vehicles, 87 personnel. Analysis shows they have heavy firepower. Possibly armed with portable SAMS.”
“A prepared operation, that’s truly you,” The mid-aged man looked at the roof, not caring about any surprised looks from other officers, he smiled, “I was right in choosing you.”
The vans were parked inside the ruins of an abandoned dock, a guy came and opened the door for Westley. The moment he stepped his foot outside, the tired and laid-back Westley was gone, instead, what replaced it was a cold-blooded, grim-looking Westley.
The early-arriving team had prepared everything. What Westley saw were men handling their weapons with cold faces filled with excitement.
He walked down the dock, squatted and looked at the water with the night vision goggles handed over by Rat.
“Boss, nothing unusual, the deal is on.”