Wilhelm nodded vigorously as I unloaded all the loot from my inventory, clearly impressed—and maybe a bit surprised—that I’d returned from the mission virtually unscathed. He stood there, one hand on his distinctive handlebar mustache, appraising each item with a satisfied gleam in his eye.
“Not bad,” he said with approval. “Here’s what I can offer: 1,600 UC for the M4A1, 1,000 UC for the UMP-9, 700 UC for the ADAR, and 600 UC for the three 1911s. I’ll take the three IFAKs off you for 150 UC. As for the laptops... I’d recommend talking to Eleanor; she’s likely to give you a better price. I can offer you 1,600 UC for all four, and only 20 UC for the flash drives. How does that sound?”
I did a quick mental tally—4,050 UC for this haul. Combined with what I already had, I’d be sitting at 8,150 UC in my account. Not bad at all.
“Sounds good, Wilhelm,” I replied, feeling a sense of accomplishment as I finalized the deal.
“Alright, take the laptop to Eleanor, I think she might want to tinker with it for a day or two, probably brute-forcing the data for the guild. Anything else I could help you with, young angel?”
“Thanks, Wilhelm,” I said.
I looked around the depot, seeing many weapon attachments for decorating my rifle, from the 100-round drum magazine for my G36, a multiple-zoom sight, supressor, and many other things I could probably use.
The iron sight was decent, the Germans didn’t really lie when they said their iron sight was not bad, but to be honest, I could have a way easier time with a better sight. I was forced to face the husk in close-range, but if I could engage those people from a longer distance, that would be better.
“Wondering about something?” Wilhelm asked, clearly reading the curiosity on my face.
“Yeah, actually. Do you have a sight I could attach to my rifle?” I replied, glancing at my G36, thinking a bit of precision might make all the difference.
“I do, indeed,” he said with a nod, already rummaging through a storage crate behind the counter. “Might I recommend an Elcan sight?” He held up the optic, admiring it with a grin. “We’ve got a surplus of these beauties—most folks these days get too eager and go straight for wallhack-esque thermals.”
“Oh, how much is this one?” I observed the sight.
[Elcan Spectre 1-4x Sight]
“For you, I’ll give it for 800 UC,” Wilhelm said, raising an eyebrow. “How about that?”
“Can you make it a bit cheaper?” I pressed, giving him a hopeful look.
“Girl, that sight usually goes for 1,200 UC. 800 UC is already a steal,” Wilhelm insisted, his tone convincing.
“Fine,” I agreed, handing over the credits.
My gaze drifted over to an SR-25 hanging on the wall of the depot, its sleek frame promising the kind of long-range power I was craving. Chambered in 7.62x51 NATO, it was built to punch through armor and drop targets from a serious distance. Just the thing I needed.
Wilhelm noticed my interest, raising an eyebrow with a hint of a smirk. “Are you seriously eyeing the SR-25, madam?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Ish, I expected something a bit more… creative from you. That’s the go-to for most, but you seem like someone who’d want a bit more flair.”
Wilhelm gave a knowing nod, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Look, based on that G36 of yours, I’d wager you’d be happier with something that’ll give you a guaranteed one-shot, one-kill. You’d probably use it for headshots anyway, right?”
“Alright, I’m open to suggestions. What would you recommend?” I asked, curious.
He grinned like he’d been waiting for this. “Hmmm… how about a Barrett MRAD? It’s not quite as pricey as its bigger brother, but it’s got everything you need to drop something armored with a single shot. Precision, power, and perfect for a marksman who knows what they’re doing.”
I raised an eyebrow, considering it. “A Barrett MRAD, huh? Alright, Wilhelm, I’m listening.”
Wilhelm placed the Barrett MRAD onto the counter, the rifle’s long, sleek barrel stretching far beyond the length of my compact G36. It was almost comically large against my own frame. The rifle already had a scope attached, with a neatly engraved inscription revealing its power: 6-20x magnification.
“Here she is,” Wilhelm said, clearly enjoying my reaction. “A bit longer than what you’re used to, but she’ll reach anything you need to hit—and then some.”
“What’s the caliber?” I asked, trying to heft the rifle. It was noticeably heavier than the G36, almost unwieldy in comparison.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“.338 Norma Magnum, girl,” Wilhelm replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “Unless you’re planning to tangle with armored vehicles or a drake, this beauty should handle anything you need. Even with basic FMJ rounds, it’ll pierce standard body armor—and if you aim for the head, well, let’s just say you won’t need a second shot.”
I picked up the rifle, feeling its full weight as I steadied myself. The thing was massive, more than half my height—practically a cannon compared to my G36. I wasn’t exaggerating when I thought it was huge. If I carry it on my back, I look like a small child.
“How much is this?” I asked.
“For you, 4,000 UC, yes, it’s expensive, but it’s including the insurance for it, so if you die, the weapon won’t be lost, what do you say?” He asked.
“Deal,” I smiled.
“Good choice,” he said, clearly pleased with the transaction. “You take care of this one, and it’ll take care of you. And if, well, you find yourself on the wrong side of a firefight, rest easy knowing the insurance has you covered.”
I carefully slung the massive Barrett MRAD over my shoulder, adjusting the strap until the weight felt balanced enough. With the rifle on my back, I probably looked a bit ridiculous, like some kind of heavily armed child, but the power this thing held more than made up for the awkwardness.
Wilhelm also gave me sixty rounds and two magazines as a bonus, and to be honest, it was nice. Why Wilhelm was so nice? Was it because I complimented his mustache? It did look nice.
"Need anything else, young angel?" Wilhelm asked, his tone friendly, maybe even a bit fatherly.
“I’m good, thank you so much, Wilhelm.”
Now, to walk back to the guild office. I still needed to get some jobs with higher rewards, especially with my rather… consumptive lifestyle. But hey, I’m happy, so that was good.
—————————
Eleanor wasn’t exactly thrilled when she caught sight of the massive rifle slung over my shoulder. As I walked up to the counter, she let out a loud, dramatic sigh, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the wooden tabletop.
"Let me guess," she said, barely concealing her annoyance with the rifle, "Wilhelm talked you into buying some ridiculously expensive, overkill hardware." Her eyes lingered on the rifle with a look that said she’d seen this a thousand times before. “Well, whatever," she shrugged, giving up on the scolding as quickly as she’d started. "I suppose it’ll make your job easier. Just… try not to attract too much attention with it. As for the laptops and flashdisks on your hands… give it to me.”
“Noted,” I replied, trying to stifle a grin. Eleanor just rolled her eyes and nodded toward the quest terminal.
“Feel free to browse,” she said, returning her attention to her work. It seemed she had resigned herself to the fact that I’d be walking around like a miniature artillery unit.
I approached the quest terminal, and Eleanor hadn’t been exaggerating—my new firepower had unlocked a whole new tier of missions. The interface displayed a wider variety of jobs, many with a distinct military edge that I hadn’t seen before.
[Take Down a SAM Site: 20,000 UC]
[Kill Four High-Level Husks: 40,000 UC]
[Deliver Medical Supplies for 25th Assault Regiment: 10,000 UC]
[Provide Medical Support for Task Force 404: 80,000 UC]
[Exterminate 20 Husks: 15,000 UC]
[Kill 40 Slimes: 2,000 UC]
[Retrieve Black Box from Downed Aircraft: 12,000 UC]
I then turned my head toward Eleanor.
“Your combat power has increased, I made harder mission available for you, don’t sweat it, it’s still peanuts in my eyes,” Eleanor said, a little bit of smugness on her tone, still, even the small increase almost increased my reward by ten times, it made sense if Eleanor could afford me.
I then asked, “Who’s Task Force 404?”
“Ah, that task force? They’re a task force from the mainland Federation, and I think they’re tasked with dealing with husks. However, with your lack of vehicle, I think you’ll be better for delivering the supplies for 1st Regiment, then, you do some odd jobs for them,” she added. “Besides, that Task Force usually took a job that would kill you in seconds.”
“I see…”
“I suggest you help the 1st Regiment; you’ll get a taste of being a contractor, and so on and so forth,” Eleanor said.
[Deliver Medical Supplies for 25th Assault Regiment: 0/1]
A drawer beneath the terminal suddenly clicked open, revealing a key resting inside. I picked it up, immediately realizing it was for a vehicle—likely a big truck loaded with the medical supplies I was tasked with delivering. It seemed my role for this mission was more “driver” than “sharpshooter,” but I could work with that.
“Alright, let me get the truck ready for you,” the goblin receptionist said, pulling a sleek tablet from under the desk. With a few quick taps, a low rumble echoed through the building as machinery whirred to life.
A moment later, a hidden platform lifted a massive truck from the underground bunker. The vehicle came into view, its flatbed loaded with palletized medical cargo securely strapped down. It was a 10x10 Oshkosh tactical vehicle, no questions asked.
“There you go,” she said with a nod. “Try not to scratch it, alright? That thing’s worth more than your life. Follow the route on your map. You’ll find several escorts from the 25th Regiment along the way.”
Am I getting reincarnated into Mudrunner?
Walking out of the guild office, I made my way to the towering 10x10 truck, its massive size almost comical compared to my own frame. The vehicle loomed over me like a steel fortress on wheels, and it took a bit of effort just to climb the staircase leading to the cockpit.
Once inside, I took a moment to familiarize myself with the controls after putting my rifle in the driver’s seat. Thankfully, the transmission was automatic, a small mercy that made my life significantly easier. No need to wrestle with complicated gear shifts in a beast like this. I’d heard rumors that manual transmissions on these beasts had something ridiculous, like 14 gears. Fourteen!
I slid the ignition key into place and gave it a turn. The engine—a colossal beast of an engine, probably measured in shitton-liters—roared to life with a deep, guttural rumble that shook the entire cockpit.
“Right, let’s take this thing out for a spin.”
I pressed my foot down on the gas pedal, and the massive truck began to lumber forward, its sheer size making every movement feel like I was commanding a small building on wheels. I gripped the enormous steering wheel, rotating it carefully to guide the truck toward the village’s gate.
It was… odd, to say the least. Here I was, driving a 10x10 cargo truck loaded with medical supplies, when my usual ride was a Prius. Well, at least I won’t have to worry about parallel parking this thing anytime soon.