Chapter:3 Underworld Syndicate System

Slowly, the light began to seep back into Anastasia's eyes, bringing with it a sharp, throbbing pain that coursed through her head. The intensity of the discomfort was enough to make her almost sit upright, but a firm hand held her down.

"Stay down; you've got a concussion,"

Howard cautioned, his voice laced with concern.

"The bullet barely missed your skull, but the shock was enough to knock you out."

Anastasia's senses were slowly returning to her, and she managed a weak nod of understanding. Howard continued to support her, retrieving a syringe from a nearby first-aid box.

"It's a mild painkiller,"

he explained, carefully injecting it into her shoulder.

"It should help alleviate the pain. You don't seem too nauseous, but I still wouldn't recommend eating or drinking anything until we can get a doctor to check on you."

Anastasia knew that her situation was far from stable, but at least she was still alive, thanks to the quick thinking and first-aid skills of her companions. He briefed her on what had just happened.

The firefight they had hoped would draw attention had succeeded, but something went badly wrong with the plan. Unbeknownst to them, a traitor was lurking within their ranks. This traitor had dismissively labeled the skirmish as a mere distraction to divert attention from their post. As a result, no assistance arrived for the better part of half an hour, a critical delay that left them vulnerable.

Anastasia's frustration and anger surged within her, and a relentless thirst for revenge threatened to overwhelm her senses. She couldn't help but slam her fist against the floor, but even as her desire for retribution burned within her, a searing jolt of pain grounded her once more.

She managed to drag herself up and collapsed on her chair, the throbbing in her brain was getting unbearable by the second. 

Half an hour later, Howard returned with the tally of the death toll on both sides. Despite being outnumbered and outgunned, they had yielded a significant victory, taking down a total of twenty-three enemy combatants, while an additional seventeen had been eliminated by their reinforcements.

Among their own, the cost had been heavy. Neo, the elder of the two brothers, had been grievously wounded and would likely never walk again. Munro, their loyal comrade, had paid the ultimate price, losing his life in the fierce battle. Juliana had fallen to a devastating shot to the back of her head, ending her life in an instant. Their reinforcements had also suffered, losing two men while rounding up the assailants.

Anastasia sighed and leaned back into the armchair, the weight of the day pressing down upon her. The day couldn't possibly get any worse.

As the day wore on, the members of Anastasia's group were occupied with the arduous task of cleaning up the aftermath of the violent night. A couple of them were dispatched to inquire about the reactions of other factions regarding the losses suffered during the skirmish.

Howard, meanwhile, had the foresight to call for a doctor, who arrived promptly. The doctor, visibly shaken by the sudden summons, attended to Anastasia's condition with care. She prescribed a few days of rest, a fasting period of at least twelve hours, and a temporary ban on alcohol for a few more days. Medication was provided as well, including a painkiller and something to alleviate potential nausea.

Just as the doctor was on the verge of leaving, an unexpected and unusual sound, resembling that of a bell, echoed in Anastasia's ears. Startled, she turned her attention to the source of the sound and found herself face-to-face with a semi-transparent blue box, hovering just inches away from her.

Instinctively, Anastasia reacted with a punch towards the strange apparition, but her fist passed through it as if it were nothing more than a mirage. In her abrupt motion, her hand missed its target and landed squarely on her desk, slamming against its wooden surface and creating a resounding banging sound.

The doctor turned around to look at her patient, who had abruptly stood up and banged the desk,

"Um, excuse me?"

the doctor stammered, her voice trembling as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

Anastasia acknowledged the doctor's concern, addressing her with a calm demeanor despite the unusual circumstances.

"Hey, Doc,"

she called out, and the doctor turned rigid, her anxiety evident.

"Is it normal to see blue boxes after a concussion?"

Anastasia inquired her question with a mix of curiosity and concern.

The doctor, still trembling and unsettled by the sudden banging on the table, hesitated for a moment before responding.

"No... no, I... I don't think so."

The presence of the mysterious blue boxes remained a perplexing enigma, one that only Anastasia could perceive.

"Okay, you can go now,"

Anastasia said, making a shooing gesture that the doctor thankfully accepted. With palpable relief, the doctor hurriedly left the office, her departure leaving Anastasia alone with her thoughts.

Once the doctor was gone, Anastasia repeated the same shooing gesture, this time directed at the remaining individuals in the room. Howard, at the forefront, followed by four others, obediently left the room to ensure the doctor didn't share any sensitive information with outsiders. It was a necessary precaution, given the recent circumstances.

Alone in her office, Anastasia shifted her focus to the enigmatic blue box that continued to flicker in front of her. It was abundantly clear that neither the doctor nor her subordinates could perceive or sense its presence, but as she examined it closely, she noticed there were words etched onto its surface:

Активируйте систему синдиката преступного мира:

 [Принять] [Отклонить]

"Activate the Underworld Syndicate System:

 [Accept] [Decline]"

"Interesting."

Anastasia muttered softly, her eyes widening as she read the words written in Russian. It was a language she was familiar with, and the implications of the message were not lost on her. She had heard of a peculiar genre of online novels in her time, mostly from kids getting shot in the stomach or hackers that had just messed with people they shouldn't have, but she never found them particularly intriguing. That was the case, until now. 

Anastasia's arms slowly descended to her waist, and her fingers instinctively clasped onto the grip of her pistol. With a mixture of curiosity and hesitation, she uttered the words,

"Accept."

Instantly, another screen materialized in front of her, accompanied by a chorus of bells that caught her off guard. Her jumpy reaction caused her pistol to be aimed at the screen before she could even think twice.

{NAME: COLT M1911

CONDITION: USED

MANUFACTURER: COLT

DATE OF MANUFACTURE: 1985

OFFICIAL PRICE: $350

BLACK-MARKET PRICE: $425

SYSTEM PRICE: $280}

This... was strange. 

This was strange, unlike anything she had encountered in her tumultuous life in Roanapur. It was a level of strangeness that transcended her typical experiences and surpassed her understanding.

Hesitantly, she waved her gun around, and to her astonishment, the gun's interface moved in tandem with the weapon, maintaining a constant distance of an inch or two ahead of the barrel.

With trembling hands, she ejected the magazine from the pistol, half-expecting the interface to change. However, what occurred was even more perplexing—another interface emerged in front of it

{NAME: 1911 MAGAZINE

CONDITION: USED

MANUFACTURER: COLT

DATE OF MANUFACTURE: 1985

OFFICIAL PRICE: $16

BLACK-MARKET PRICE: $21

SYSTEM PRICE: $9}

{NAME: .45 ACP AMMUNITION

CONDITION: USED

MANUFACTURER: COLT

DATE OF MANUFACTURE: 1985

OFFICIAL PRICE: $0.4

BLACK-MARKET PRICE: $0.6

SYSTEM PRICE: $0.2}

Anastasia's initial reaction was one of disbelief, the numbers presented were clearly at odds with her own experiences. She vividly remembered purchasing a batch of a thousand .45 ACP ammunition rounds for seven hundred dollars, and she was confident that she hadn't been ripped off. Smuggling goods in and out from under the watchful eye of the navy wouldn't be nearly as profitable if there was no significant profit margin.

Anastasia acknowledged that the issue of pricing could be addressed later, perhaps necessitating a change in her supplier, her eyes flickered with a cold, hard look before she refocused her attention on the interface that still hovered before her.

[Anastasia Marie Petrovna ]

- Level: Street Boss (7)

[Attributes]

- STR: 40

- DEX: 47

- END: 35

- INT: 28

- Charisma: 45

- Luck: 5

[Skills]

- Hand-to-Hand Combat: lv.3

- Marksmanship: lv.5

- Firearms Proficiency: lv.3

- ...

[Subordinates] {Direct Members}

- Second-In-Command: Howard 

 - STR: 40 

 - DEX: 30

 - END: 30 

 - Loyalty: 85

 - Skills: Firearms Proficiency(4), Hand-to-hand Combat(3), Intimidation(4), Stealth(2), etc.

- Captain: Neo

 - STR: 50 

 - DEX: 07 

 - END: 45

 - Loyalty: 88

 - Skills: Hand-to-hand combat(5), Surveillance(3), Firearms Proficiency(3), etc.

- Captain: Leo

 - STR: 55 

 - DEX: 45

 - END: 45

 - Loyalty: 88 

 - Skills: Information Gathering(4), Hand-to-hand Combat(5), Firearm Proficiency(4), etc.

- Street Overseer x7, Brothel Manager x3, Tech x2, Smuggler x5, Hustler x5, Informant x3, Fighter x10, Chemist x3, Surgeon x3, Saboteur x5...

- Indirect Subordinates: 97

[Equipment]

- Primary Weapon: Nil

- Secondary Weapon: Nil

- Sidearms: M1911

 - Ammunition: .45 ACPs {Loaded(6), Extra(21)}

- Melee: Brass Knuckles 

 - Weight: 2.5 Pound

- Defense: Kevlar Vest 

 - Defense: Handgun Rounds

[Quest Progress]

- Quest 1: Takedown The Salvatore Family (17/119)

- Quest 2: Smuggling Operation (0/50kg)

- Quest 3: Restart Revenue Flow (0/100%)

[Inventory]

- Nil 

[System Store]

- Recruitment (0/10) 

 - Personal Cards Available: 1/10(Free) 

- Weapons Market (10/10)

 - Shipment Inbound: 30 Days

- Revenue(Monthly)

 - Wharf: $15,000/$250,000

 - Streets: $1,200/$35,000

 - Pubs: $50/$20,000

 - Brothels: $0/$60,000

[Notes]

- Eliminate The Traitor To Strength Loyalty

- Raze The Salvatore Family

- Watch Out For The Ripe-off Church

- Watch Out For The Bougainvillea Trade Company

*************************

As she processed the information and took it all in, Anastasia Shakily put down her gun on the table. She then retrieved a cigarette, placed it between her lips, lit it, and took a deep drag, the smoky exhale accompanying her contemplation of the strange events she found herself in.