His walk to the door was painful, and painfully slow, but eventually he made it. Drenched in sweat and completely exhausted, but he made it.
'How am I supposed to make it anywhere near a viable target in this condition?'
Sylas would have liked to give up right at this moment, but he was not a quitter. He gritted his teeth and continued onward, opening the door with a screeching sound that could have as well come from a Banshee.
'This definitely needs some oil.' Sylas thought. And it was not just him, but also all the people in the streets that were now facing him. Their eyes dripping with disgust, as if he had just shot a dog.
That didn't matter to him though. If he cared about the opinion of other people, then he would have never gotten as far as he did in his previous life. For he had bigger goals than to be admired and revered by the people surrounding him. And for those goals to come true, he needed to start somewhere.
Sylas already knew where he could scout for his first target: right inside the bar he worked at. It was a gathering place for some of the most vile scum the town had to offer. Frequented by Mafia members and pirates - none of the people in there deserved to live outside of a prison cell.
At the same time most of the customers were pretty weak. If they weren't, then they wouldn't drink at one of the most run-down places in the outskirts of the city. They would instead go to where the real action was. The inner city: the dream for all people living in the slums and those who wanted to be feared and respected for power they could only dream of.
At this moment, Sylas' thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door falling to the ground. The rusty hinges had finally given out, and his last luxury in this world was destroyed. Sylas only sighed and picked up the door, leaning it against the frame, so that it would still kind of do its job. Just much worse than before.
"Shitty house. I would really love to move as soon as possible, but that will only draw attention to myself." He muttered under his breath.
The scene around him was also way too miserable. The streets were filled with garbage and human excrements. They were muddy, thanks to a small trickle of unknown substances splitting the street into two parts. Sylas hoped it was water, but seeing that all the people avoided it like the pest, his hopes were fleeting. It stank as well, which gave Sylas the urge to cover his nose.
"Ugh, this is even worse than sitting next to an Anime fan on public transport."
The people were not that different to the street either. They were gloomy, dirty and filthy. Looking at their eyes, you could see that they had already lost all hope. Most of them would probably not even fight for their life if they needed to.
Right now, there was nothing Sylas could do to change that. It left him in a sour mood. He was reduced to a spectator, only being able to watch the harrowing amounts of misery. Though most other people would probably call him a victim as well, rather than a spectator.
Grumbling, cursing, yelping and limping, Sylas made his way towards the bar. Though he was covered in blood, none of the passer-bys paid him any heed. Hearing the sound of a screeching door was apparently a bigger issue for them than a teenage boy covered in blood walking down the streets.
Sylas couldn't blame them. Such a scene was rather common on this island filled with death. It was called Red Earth for a reason. All the blood spilled on a daily had given the ground a barely noticeable sheen of red.
After 30 achingly cruesome minutes, he finally arrived just a small distance away from the bar and hid in a nearby alleyway. He didn't want to risk getting any closer, in fear of being discovered by the bar's regulars or other employees. The sun had already set by now, hiding him in a mantle of darkness, unnoticed by anyone passing by.
Just as Sylas was about to relax for a bit, a disturbing smell assaulted his nose.
'Ughh, of course this alley stinks like shit. Its probably the one that all the drunk customers take a leak in on their way home.' While he was now even more pissed than before. Quite literally. There was nothing he could do. Except for waiting.
It was still relatively early. Only 8 in the evening, so most customers were still drinking inside. From the previous owner's memories, Sylas could tell that the average IQ of the people inside the bar was usually below room-temperature. And Sylas was not American.
Some hours passed, and most customers were still drinking happily inside the bar. Whenever the occassional drunkard stumbled out early, Sylas would scan their attributes, but most of the time they were in groups numbering 3 or more.
Whenever the occasional unaccompanied person came out while bumping against all obstacles in their path, they would usually take the direction opposite from Sylas. And while those people were pretty slow due to their uncoordinated state, they were still faster than a mortally injured teenager.
Aside from that, Sylas also didn't want to leave his hiding spot if not necessary.
After waiting for yet another 2 hours or so, Sylas' mood had hit rock-bottom.
'I should have just come much later. The surprise of suddenly receiving the system made me act without consideration. Now I've been sitting in dried piss, and maybe even a bit of shit, for the last few hours without any real rewards.'
At this moment, the tavern's doors opened once again. Out came two men dressed in suits, with slicked back, black hair.
Sylas focused once again. While his mind was exhausted, he still had years of experience hammered into his mind. He wouldn't just slack off on the job.
'Let's see who you are.'
[Name: Johnny Gambino
Age: 45 Years, 9 months, 3 days
Devil Fruit: None
Haki: None
Overall Strength: Civilian
Hear Purity: Orange]
Both of them had similar status screens.
'Perfect targets.' Sylas thought. 'Not too strong, but also not too weak. And since they are part of the mafia, they probably have some money on them right now. At least enough to last me until my next gig. Please just don't walk in the wrong direction now. Salvation is this way.'
While most people here had Civilian-Level strength, there were still large differences within each tier. In the last few hours Sylas had asked the system more in-depth questions about the strength classifications. As it turns out, it was harder to rank up than he hed estimated. Even in the early levels.
Back on Earth even most the most perfect athletes, trained to the peak of human limit, would only barely reach 4 Blues Pirate. Only with superhuman strength or technique would they be able to reach the next stage.
Due to the fact that the mafia members in front of him were armed and also seemed to be in pretty good shape, Sylas felt like they should earn him some pretty good rewards.
'Even Mike Tyson would die if I planted a bullet between his eyebrows. So you better get ready to meet ROB. Though I doubt he will want to see you.'
--------------------------------
"Of course the boss sent us to gather the protections fees right at 8 in the morning. I swear he doesn't like us for some reason. The other guys never get the early shifts."
One of the two spoke with a lull, clearly intoxicated. In the next moment, his friend immediately covered his mouth, looking at him in anger.
"You Idiot! Don't you know what will happen if someone hears you say that?" He was obviously terrified of their boss. But a few seconds later he breathed out in relief. He had just looked around attentively and realized that no living soul was close-by. Except for Sylas of course.
"You know he just means good. Early bird catches the worm after all." He tried to lighten up his friend's mood, but the only thing that could improve his attitude towards the topic right now was probably another pint of beer.
"Hmpf, Fuck that. Early bird only catches the piss." The other guy answered again, while walking off in Sylas' direction with unsteady steps.
"Hey, where are you going?" His friend called out.
"Just taking a piss."
Sylas, seeing the guy walking straight towards him, quickly thanked Lady Luck. 'Finally. Seems like those 2 hours of ardous waiting were not for nothing. Perseverance always pays off.'
In the past he had waited much longer and in more uncomfortable positions. But with his current injuries, the situation probably made the top 10 of scenarios he wouldn't like to repeat nonetheless.
Focusing his attention back to the situation at hand, he pulled out the black orb again and switched into pistol mode. 2 sleek, black guns appeared on his left and right side. Their weight exactly perfect, and they felt as if they were molded directly into his hand. He also almost pushed the silencer to the limit. He wanted to make sure the guys' friend would come over without a weapon of his own weapon pulled out.
Since the entire region was badly illuminated, the mafioso was not able to perceive Sylas, and instead just started taking a leak. Unknowing of what was about to happen to him.
Sylas on the other hand didn't hesitate in the slightest. He aimed with practiced precision and pulled the trigger in one fell swoop. If there was one thing he was confident in, then it was his aim.
As the bullet left the weapon, it traveled at speeds a bit slower than normal. The reason for that was that the gun's strength scaled with his own. Right now he was weaker than the average person, so the gun would be substandard as well. But that didn't mean it would be unable to kill someone. Quite the opposite in fact.
The sound the gun made was also extremely quiet. About as loud as knocking on a stone wall, which is not very loud.
The bullet continued to travel and hit the guy straigth in the head, killing him. He was completely unable to react, and died without a single sound.
'Another good deed. I saw how much you didn't want to work tomorrow, so I came up with a quick solution. I hope you are happy with that.'
Sylas didn't feel anything after just having taken a human life. It wasn't his first one after all.
Now that the thug was no longer conscious, he started falling to the ground, and Sylas let him. Of course he could try to catch him and reduce the noise he made upon impact. But that would not only strain his body, he had also planned to attract his second target of the night. The dude would think that his buddy fell down completely intoxicated, maybe even drowning in his own piss, and come over to check his well-being.
And just as Sylas thought, a few seconds later he could see him setting into motion.
"Hey Johnny, everything alright there? You don't happen to have met the penis-snipper man, did you now?"
After not getting a response, he walked into the still poorly-lit alley as well, only to be greeted by a gun pointing straight at his chest. He wanted to pull out his own weapon in response, scream, fight back. Just anything he could think of. But it was already too late. The bullet had ripped through his heart before he even noticed the weapon being triggered.
"Hm, I've still got it. The haters didn't believe in us. ROB did. -DJ Khaled" Sylas laughed to himself while checking both corpses for money and valuables. Anything that could buy a warm meal and maybe even some brand-new door hinges.
Okay, maybe just second-hand. Sylas was about that recycling life after all, and he also didn't want to attract too much attention with some new, fully gold-coated appliances. Out here, iron was almost as rare as gold.
And sure enough, his worries had an end. He found about 20.000 Berries, which is more than enough to pay his protection fees when the guys who transported the bodie's previous owner into the afterlife returned to gobble up more of his money.
Not that he was planning on paying. They would probably meet some unfortunate accident. Too much wealth always enticed greed in humans hearts.
'Now that I think about it, why have I still not gotten the reward for the assassination, system?' Sylas didn't feel the anticipated rush of strength cursing through his body, so he reckoned his rewards must not have been distributed yet. Otherwise the system's power ups would truly be too weak.
[All rewards will only be granted once the user has successfully escaped the scene. If you were to be captured after an assassination, then your rewards will be voided.]
Sylas immediately got his answer in the form of the already familiar, elegant black-golden screen appearing in front of him at the speed of light. Though it probably was light, so maybe at the speed of itself?
'Seems fair. Though it is slightly annoying. Guess I better head home now.'
With a bit more confidence and contentment now noticeable in Sylas limping steps, he quickly headed home again, not wanting to be discovered on the scene of the crime. While it was a common occurance for people to be killed on these parts of the city, the Mafia was always keen on getting revenge for each of their members. No matter how inconsequential.
Only a firm stance would ward off competitors, proofing that they were not to be messed with.
On his way back Sylas watched his surroundings even more attentively than on the way to the bar, but he was pretty sure that he saw not one person who might recognize him. He also tried to move within darker spots as much as possible, ensuring that as few people as possible were able to make out his face.
After 15 minutes he once again reached his house. The moment he closed the door behind him, he suddenly heard a system notification.
[Succesful assassination. Now distributing rewards.]