Hisoka woke up to a bright and shining morning. The birds were chirping, the sky was clear, it was almost a perfect scene. Hisoka, however, didn't care as his back was cramped from sleeping in the car, which put him in a shitty mood.
Not wanting to stick around much longer, he started the engine, pulled back onto the road, and gunned it.
He drove for only about an hour before he started to see the outline of a town in the distance. As he neared people with bewildered looks on the side of the road watched him drive by in his iron horseless carriage. Knowing full well that he stood out, but still, in a rather foul mood, Hisoka drove on not giving a damn about the repercussions.
He drove past all the people before finding a generous space between two buildings to park the car. He did so, donned his pack, and made sure his revolver was good to go. Leisurely he got out of the car ignoring the crowd that had gathered to observe his vehicle, and not seeing three rather rough-looking individuals approach.
A man walked up followed by 2 lackeys and approached Hisoka menacingly.
"Ey, you there. Is this horseless carriage yours?"
Hisoka didn't so much as give him a nod and attempted to walk away from the scene.
"Oy you, I'm talking to you you hear me?" the man said practically shouting, as he rest his hand on the handle of a rather viscous looking blade sheathed at his hip.
Hisoka still unfazed walked about 3 steps before the lackeys stopped him.
"Could you do me a favor, and fuck off?" Hisoka said in his cold deadpanned tone.
"Listen here bastard, you don't talk to me that way," the leader snarled and drew the blade painting it in full view.
"You better start to fucking apologize if you want to keep your flesh attached," the man said as he began to approach Hisoka menacingly.
The lackey's smiled thinking they were in for a show, they were, in fact, in for one, though it would go a little different than they expected.
Hisoka was getting rather tired of their bullcrap and put a more comfortable grip on the revolver he lazily held in his hand. He felt his emotions stiffen as a cold look manifested itself on his face. He thought through his options, but in his mind, there was only one. He stared at the man with an unfeeling emotionless expression, as cold as a slab of stone.
The man seemed to be surprised a bit at the unexpected reaction, but soon enough he regained his bravado as he began to rush towards Hisoka with the blade that would slice through him like a warm knife through butter.
For Hisoka, the world seemed to slow as adrenaline rushed through his veins. His head was clear, with no emotion to toy with his reactions, more of a precise pre-programmed response. He felt the skill take over and embraced the feeling of certainty, of complete faith in his ability. He raised the weighty weapon and pointed it at the man who charged towards him in slow motion.
Hisoka's breathing was steady and collected as he adjusted the orientation of the weapon to sight perfectly on the man's center mass. He felt nothing other than the cool embrace of a metallic trigger as his body automatically readied itself for the vertical impact of the recoil. Without even blinking, Hisoka pulled the trigger. He felt a swift jolt as the weapon bucked like an untamed horse wanting to be free from its shackles. He saw the muzzle flash, a brilliant orange burst from the muzzle. In the world's slowed state he could have sworn he saw the projectile itself leave the barrel as it spiraled towards the man's center mass. By the time the .44 magnum slug buried itself in the man's sternum, he had already lowered the weapon to it's starting position, braced for the recoil, and repeated the process letting out another deafening boom.
The world slowly sped up again, and the man that was in the midst of charging for a strike was jolted as the second round planted itself in his lower torso. He fell backward as the force of the projectile fully impacted his being.
He was dead by the time he hit the ground.
The townspeople were shocked, as this strange man who arrived in a mysterious vehicle had just killed a man without so much as being near him, with a weapon that roared like thunder itself, perhaps an ancient artifact with the power to end armies, the people thought with wide eyes and shocked expressions.
Hisoka wasn't finished, however, as one of the lackeys tried to bolt away and the other tried to close the gap to avenge his boss. The world stayed at full speed this time, yet he still swiftly moved the cold steel barrel to face the oncoming attacker and pulled the trigger as the weapon bucked upwards once more in an effort to free itself from his grasp.
The bastard hit the ground hard as a large hole that previously was not there manifested itself in his upper torso. The other lackey made the mistake of stopping to see what had happened to his comrade before he looked up from the corpse to see the cold steel of a barrel face him. It was the last thing he ever saw.
Hisoka regained emotion as he felt his humanity return to him. His hand ached like a sonofabitch after the repeated firing of the large weapon, however, his prediction of it's stopping power was completely true. The townspeople still with terrified expressions backed away as he drew near. He stopped at each corpse before rooting through the pockets of each. All he made out with were 12 silver coins and a pouch of 38 copper coins, but it should be enough for the time being. He also grabbed a brutal looking knife from the waist of the last lackey and took it's scabbard as well. He smiled as he watched the sun glint off the wickedly curved blade of the knife before him. He sheathed it and proceeded with his business.
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Hisoka shot a cold gaze at the crowd and they quickly dispersed, not wishing to incur the wrath of the mysteriously powerful figure before them.
He saw various adventurers watch him from the steps of a building that looked far more grandiose than the rest, with its arching roof and stone brick walls.
Hisoka, still on edge watching closely to make sure unseen assailants couldn't get the jump on him, proceeded to the gathering place of the rough-looking adventurers. There was a man at the door, but when Hisoka glared at him he gave a nod and left to go about his business. Hisoka entered the building, still caressing his aching wrist.
Inside lay a bustling hive of activity, men drinking at tables whereas others mulled over posts tacked to a large board. He saw a receptionist and headed that ways.
"Hello, are you here to commission a quest?" She politely asked.
Assuming a far more civilized stance and tone than before and clearing his throat, Hisoka spoke.
"Ah no, I was merely curious as to what this place might be?"
"Well, sir this is the adventurers guild of the town of Stienie. here yo can commission a quest to be taken out by adventurers, or you yourself can register and take a quest yourself," she replied cheerfully with a smile.
"So in that case would it be possible for me to join?" Hisoka curiously inquired.
"Certainly, anyone can join the guild. There are a few things I must explain first as is the procedure," she said as she put on a more serious face to go about official business,
"The guild uses a ranking system to help make sure that individual adventurers take quests within their capabilities. It is customary that you start at the lowest rank, being F. The entire order of ranks being: F, E, D, C, A, and finally S, with heroes contracted by a kingdom receiving a special rank that helps us do the paperwork after they do their duties," she continued.
"The guild does not care about adventurer disputes or even disputes with the ruling class or the law in general. The guild is a worldwide association, and as such will not intervene in such squabbles. That said, however, there is no fighting allowed within guild premises," she stated matter of factly in her cheerful tone.
"There are various quests ranging from gathering, escort missions, subjugating a strong monster, or eradicating a group of monsters. For any combat quests, it is recommended that you purchase a bag of holding to store the corpses as most monsters have valuable body parts, with the exception of lower-ranked monsters. Along those lines, you will be required to bring in a piece of proof that the quest is completed, most likely in the form of a requested body part for identification."
"Any questions? Good. Here let me get you a guild card. You will need to prick your finger and press it firmly in the box at the top of the card there," she said as she reached under the desk and rooted through a few bins before reappearing with a clear glass-like card and needle.
She presented him with the materials and asked that he prick his thump and press the blood to a certain place on the card. He did as requested and the surface of the card warped to display his numerical stats as well as his guild rank, F.
"Oh, one last thing I almost forgot, you may only take quests one rank above or below your own." She said as she gave him a farewell.
He thanked her and left the guild structure before he could cause another scene.
As he walked down the dusty unpaved road, multiple carriages that appeared to be prison carts drove by.
The people gossiping didn't notice him and went about their conversations.
"Oh the slavers are in town, I wonder if they have anything good this time around?" he overheard them say.
After hearing that these were slaver carts, he watched many carts roll by with many weary people within, but one cart especially captured his eyes. In it, there was a beautiful woman, with pointed dog-like, or maybe fox-like ears. She was rather well endowed with plentiful "assets", and she had a kind, but a scared face, along with gunmetal gray hair. He felt an odd sense of connection to the poor slave.
On a whim, he decided to trail the cart all the way back to its destination. When the slave carts stopped in front of a building, guards approached fro said building and began violently herding the slaves inside. When the slaves tried to object or were too weak to move the bastards would shove or kick them to get them moving, some going as far as to hit them with the pommel of their weapons. This sight of sheer cruelty rose a cold, dark fire in Hisoka's otherwise uncaring heart. He knew he had to do something to help these poor people, no matter the cost. He just so happened to have one such method in mind, as a sadistic grin spread across his face in anticipation of punishing these bastards.
Needing a staging ground, he went and found a rather cheap inn with decent beds and rented it for a night, before checking his stats quickly.
Level 3 (15/300)
HP: 15/15
MP: 50/50
STR: 6
AGI: 5
STA: 4
INT: 8
Abilities:
[Modern Weapon Summons] Lv 1 (55/100)
[Modern Vehicle Summons] Lv 1
[Modern Equipment Summons] lv 1
Skills:
[Modern Weapon Master] Lv 1 (15/300)
[Resilience] Lv 1 (0/300)
After seeing that his level had progressed to 3, he was puzzled as to why some of his abilities and skills had their own level system. After thinking about it for a little bit he surmised that it must be due to the fact that they are active abilities which level with use, and he had killed a few men with the revolver so it made sense that if this was the case it would gain XP. If this was the case he looked forward to the stat boost from the completion of his plan.
He already had his mind set in stone, and upon seeing the brutality showed to the poor people, along with the newly discovered fact that through killing with his weapons he raised his abilities power, there wasn't too much left to consider. He was gonna sweep the slaver's office and free the poor people locked within, and hopefully bring down retribution on the bastards in charge of the heinous affair. He cared little for the laws of this land. He simply saw a problem and a solution.
He needed new equipment, and he could summon 1 weapon per day with his current stats. He just so happened to have one in mind. Of course, he would be limited to civilian models as there was a semi-auto restriction, but it never said it limited mag size. He merely needed something to do the job. With that in mind, he decided upon a civilian Scar-L. He wasn't quite fond of it in general, as it was a bit of an overdone weapon, but he figured he'd save the good stuff for later when he could call upon full auto high cal weapons. He also summoned the chest rig configured for 30 round STANAG mags.
A large cluster of light appeared on the floor, before forming into his rifle, 8 magazines, and the vest with the proper pockets to suit them, all neatly sorted symmetrically on the floor.
After confirming the magazines were loaded, he stuffed them in the chest rig one by one. It could fit 6 with its pocket system, so he left the other two magazines haphazardly in the back jean pockets. Whether he cared for the rifle or not, he found nothing sexier than the sound of the charging handle being pulled and a fresh cartridge going hot.
This time he was ready, and he had full intention of making that morning's incident look like a routine scuffle compared to what he had in mind.
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