Chapter 23: Custom Guns

The office's calm was shattered by the arrival of over a dozen jeeps. Sensing the impending threat, Edward swiftly kicked the table, sending it flying into the entrance and crashing into the intruders, blasting them out with tremendous force.

"Take Richard upstairs," Edward said calmly.

Tom quickly grabbed Richard by the back of his collar and sped upstairs. Jerry climbed onto Edward's shoulder, chattering.

"Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! (Boss, shall we raise mayhem to this world?)"

"No need. I'll handle them. You go up and protect Richard," Edward replied.

Jerry nodded and left. Meanwhile, Walter peeked out upon hearing the commotion and locked eyes with Edward, who shook his head. Walter then closed the window and continued his experiments.

Edward drew his dual pistols and began his onslaught. Before the intruders could react, he fired through the glass, hitting them outside. They quickly returned fire, targeting his position.

After a brief firing, silence fell inside the office, leading them to believe they had killed him. However, gunfire erupted again, and despite their cover, Edward's bullets found their marks, leaving no one outside alive. Soon he also stopped his killing but unlike his enemies, he knew no surprises would come.

"Good thing my office can self-repair, or the renovation costs would be substantial," Edward muttered as he stepped outside, surveying the bodies. He was contemplating how to deal with them when a figure approached.

"Sir, do you require cleaning services? Five thousand dollars per body," the newcomer offered with a smile.

"Sure, take care of it. Don't forget the shell casings."

"Of course, sir. Someone will come to collect the payment after the cleanup."

Edward nodded and returned inside, starting to sweep the shell casings out.

"Boss, who sent those guys?" Walter asked.

"No idea."

"Why don't you check their bodies? There might be information about who sent them."

"No need, Walter. Remember, as members of this office, we'll attract many assassination attempts. We can't possibly eliminate every organization, person, or country that targets us. Let them come. They can't kill me anyway. And besides the more they send, the more they lose. We haven't suffered any losses. Just look at who loses more."

"You're right, Boss. I'll get back to my experiments," Walter replied, satisfied with the explanation.

After Walter left, Edward lay back on the sofa. Tom and Jerry came downstairs with Richard.

"Brother Ed, is everything settled?" Richard asked.

"Yes, it's all taken care of. You can come out and play now."

However, Richard didn't move. Instead, he stared at Edward, making him feel a bit awkward.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Edward asked, puzzled.

"Brother Ed, can you teach me how to use a gun?" Richard asked cautiously.

"Why don't you ask your dad? You do know your dad's real identity, right?"

"I know, but their skills aren't as good as yours, Brother Ed. Only Bullseye Uncle's skills are comparable to yours, but he said his talent makes him strong and that others can't learn it," Richard said, pouting.

Looking at the eleven-year-old Richard, Edward couldn't help but click his tongue.

"Well, Brother Ed, if it's difficult for you, can I make a commission?"

"Of course you can, but I think you should talk to your dad about this."

Richard didn't respond but continued to stare at Edward. Left with no other option, Edward sighed and pulled out a parchment scroll. "Ten thousand dollars as the fee. Can you afford that?"

"Yes, I have enough allowance to cover it."

As Richard was about to sign his name, Edward spoke again, "Richard, think carefully. Once you sign, there's no turning back. Are you sure you want to learn how to use a gun?"

Richard nodded firmly and then signed his name, pressing his fingerprint on the parchment. As his name glowed, the contract was sealed.

"Come with me. I need to find someone to custom-make a gun for you."

Edward took Richard on his old motorcycle to Old Jack's general store. Upon entering, they found a crowd of burly men inside.

"The hell is this, Old Jack? Seriously, spend some money and expand this hole," Edward said, pushing through the crowd with Richard. Initially, the burly men were annoyed and tried to grab Edward's collar, but upon recognizing him, they quickly stepped aside, making a path.

"What brings you here?" Jack asked.

"I need a favor, so I came by. What's with this crowd?"

"They bought some arms and are waiting for their delivery."

"Can't they wait outside?" Edward asked, frowning.

"Their stuff is sensitive, so it's better to wait inside," Old Jack explained.

"Suit yourself."

At that moment, Tank came out carrying four long boxes. Noticing the symbols on the boxes, Edward exclaimed, "Stinger missiles? You guys managed to get your hands on those?"

Jack chuckled, "We have our ways. So, what can I do for you?"

"I need a custom-made gun for this kid," Edward said, gesturing to Richard.

Jack raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"Well, let's see what you can do."

"Surely, you know my reputation. There's nothing I can't get. As long as you have the money, I could even get you a nuke," Jack said disdainfully.

Tank placed the boxes on the counter, and the burly men quickly took them and left.

"Alright, so what do you need this time?" Jack asked.

"I need a custom-made handgun for this kid. Richard, what model do you like?"

Richard thought for a moment and said, "An M629 revolver. I think it looks really cool when the cylinder swings out and the shells are ejected."

Edward nodded in agreement, then turned to Jack. "Get him a custom M629 revolver sized for his hand, and a thousand rounds of suitable ammunition."

"No problem. Tank, measure the kid's hand," Jack called out.

"Come with me, kid," Tank said to Richard.

Seeing Tank's imposing figure, Richard looked nervously at Edward.

"Go ahead. Despite his size, Tank is very kind to children," Edward reassured him with a smile. Richard then followed Tank.

Richard followed Tank to a workshop filled with various grips, barrels, and other gun parts. Tank placed a pile of grips in front of Richard and said, "Kid, pick the grip that feels most comfortable in your hand."

Richard nodded and began selecting. It didn't take long for him to find the most comfortable grip. Tank then proceeded to balance the weight. Once he found the perfect weight for Richard, he sent him off, telling him to come back tomorrow to pick up his gun.

As Richard and Edward left the store, Jack watched them go and remarked, "Do you know who that kid is?"

"Whose?" Tank asked.

"Kingpin's kid. Originally, he hoped to keep him away from all this, but fate has a way of playing tricks," Jack sighed before getting back to work.

Meanwhile, a man with a slightly balding head, dressed in a black suit and driving a red antique car, arrived at the entrance of the office.