Chapter 482 (1/2)

Hank Howard regarded the three individuals in front of him, feeling a headache arriving with a vengeance. As an official Sheriff, and as a Tier Three citizen of their Zone, he ostensibly had the authority to settle their dispute. However, when he saw that the injured party had a probationary citizenship card, and the other two were Tier Two citizens, his jaw clenched tight.

In terms of citizenship, he outranked them, by official decree of Ghost, the AI that controlled most of Zone 1. However, he received that ranking early on after the System arrived, before the hierarchy had truly established itself. These Tier 2 citizens would likely know that, and that since then, he had been basically excommunicated from any true avenues of influence. He was a Tier 3 citizen in name only.

Although Ghost had never adjusted a citizenship ranking downward, many had made the joke that Hank Howard would be the first. Then they paused, and usually wondered whether his brother, another Tier 3 citizen, had something to do with his current ranking…

The woman’s cold words brought Hank back to the present. “I was here the whole time, I saw everything. This fool drove his vehicle in front of the area that Jay was practicing some Skills. It’s his own fault his car is damaged.”

“That’s not what happened!” The kid bellowed, fuming. And he was a kid, really. A 15-year-old with a shock of orange hair on his head, probably driving mommy or daddy’s Manatech car. Still, as the kid’s fury mounted, Hank’s eyes narrowed as he tasted the air. “You jumped in front of me while I was driving! You said if I didn’t give you the car, you’d destroy it!”

He might be young, and a probationary citizen, but he had a Class already, and something with some heft.

That was shocking in and of itself. The probationary citizenship was only created 6 months ago when the edges of their Zone opened up. So he had enough potential that some Village gave him a Class.

But his opponents were Dungeon Divers, and from the look of it, good ones. The group was standing on the side of a road leading into a nearby C Class city and were starting to draw a bit of a crowd of lookie-loos. Still trying to keep his cool, Hank raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright guys, be civil, how about we just-”

“Pah,” The man who caused the whole thing said, unfolding his arms. Then, to Hank’s surprise, he turned and spat on Hank’s shoes. “What does it even fucking matter what happened. We are Tier 2 citizens, you little shit-”

In a smooth motion that was so fast that people with less than 150 Perception and Reaction couldn’t even react to it, Hank Howard drew his Colt revolver and put a bullet through the man’s mouth. Something had snapped, and Hank was done playing nice.

He had chosen his shot carefully, and the bullet hit the man in the cheek while he was turning, so it burrowed into one cheek, through his shit slurping tongue, and then out the other side, spraying blood everywhere. Hank had empowered the bullet with his Mana Reinforcement, giving it a bit of extra oomph, in case this guy spec’d defense Stats, but it seemed he needn’t have worried.

That crack of the gun was loud and sharp, and Hank loved it, that moment of harsh reverberations. That’s why he still used the revolver, even when there was much more efficient plasma weaponry on the market. They just didn’t have the same… renaissance feel of an old style pistol.

For a long second, nobody moved.

It was extremely strange, Hank reflected, savoring his hot fury’s satisfaction, how it seemed that improving people’s Intelligence and physical reaction speed only seemed to make them react more slowly to things that truly surprised them. Take this fool of a man for example. Since he hadn’t put points into Endurance or Vitality, he had to have either Reaction or Intelligence, right?

Finally, the man reacted, releasing a gurgling wail that continued far beyond what was comfortable to listen to. Hank bit back a grin.

‘You’ve got your violence,’ He told himself, specifically the hotheaded half of himself. ‘Let it go.’

Grumbling, that part of him settled back.

“What the fuck have you done?!?” The woman said, gasping as she rushed over to her companion. “We…! We….”

15-year-old was almost drooling, his eyes moving from the gun to Hank’s face, to the wound on the man’s face. Coughing slightly, Hank holstered his pistol, with the same smooth, greasy movements. Ever since he had obtained his Gunslinger Class, getting weapons in and out of things was no problem for him, even though none of his Skills seemed to be directly related to it. Perhaps it was due to Gunslinger’s Instincts?