He still had 1,260 pounds of TNT left. It wasn't enough to bring down the whole building.
He pushed open the main doors and stepped inside. The layout was similar to the New York branch, with a large, oval bar in the center of the hall, but the ground floor was much larger.
It was 10:12 PM, past the peak hours, and only a handful of men were scattered around the hundred or so tables. Sixteen groups of two guards each were stationed around the hall.
He walked to the nearest mission board. His own bounty was no longer listed. It seemed Morrison had learned his lesson.
He went down to the sub-basement. The air was thick with the sound of a roaring crowd. He stepped into a circular arena, like an amphitheater, with a boxing ring, a fencing stage, and a shooting gallery at its center. A bare-knuckle boxing match was in progress, the two fighters' faces already swollen and bloody.
He watched the scene of debauchery for a moment, then turned and went back upstairs.
He walked to the center of the bar. From here, everyone in the hall was within a 25-meter radius.
He activated his Super Reflexes.
In one second, a storm of throwing knives filled the hall. The twenty-four guards furthest from him all collapsed, a blade in each of their throats. He used a grey pearl to reset his talent and, in the next two seconds, dispatched the remaining eight guards. He activated his talent again, and in another second, the sixteen black market members and eight bartenders were all dead.
He used one final pearl and, as calmly as a spider spinning its web, finished off the last of the staff.
The entire hall, all sixty-four occupants, had been silenced in six seconds.
He then moved through the ten partitioned-off rooms, silently and methodically eliminating the handlers and guards inside. In less than five minutes, the entire ground floor was his.
He looted the bodies, then piled them in one of the side rooms, doused them with kerosene, and set them ablaze.
Just as he was about to leave, the main doors opened and a man stepped inside, his face a mask of confusion as he looked around the empty hall.
Two throwing knives flew from Henry's hands, and the man collapsed.
Henry walked to the main entrance and, with three pairs of revolvers, shot out all thirty-six of the gas lamps in the courtyard, plunging the entire area into darkness. He then ran twenty meters to the side and, with his Winchester, began to shoot out the lamps on the surrounding buildings.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Dak-dak-dak-dak-dak!
The return fire was immediate and overwhelming. The guards were professionals. Two Gatling guns and a dozen sniper rifles opened up on his last known position. In fourteen seconds, at the cost of twenty-eight of his white pearl husks, he extinguished all the lights in the area and took out the twelve snipers on the surrounding rooftops.
He ran for the cover of the nearest fortified bunker, the ground behind him chewed up by a hail of machine-gun fire. He threw two 5-pound TNT charges through the firing slit.
BOOM!
The bunker shuddered, but held. He continued his charge, throwing bombs into the firing slits of the long, fortified wall as he ran.
In a series of deafening explosions, the entire left-wing fortification collapsed.
He then turned his attention to the right side, and in another series of perfectly placed charges, brought that wall down as well. He threw four more bombs at the main search-room building near the entrance, and it, too, was reduced to rubble.
From the moment he had stepped out of the main building, less than thirty seconds had passed. The entire front courtyard's defenses were annihilated.
He ran to the warehouse on the side of the main building, blew the lock with his Sharps rifle, and kicked the door in. Two guards were waiting in ambush inside. He shot them both before they could even raise their weapons.
He quickly looted the warehouse, taking all the weapons and explosives, then set it on fire and ran for the rear courtyard.
He had been in the warehouse for over two minutes. By now, the entire headquarters was on high alert. The rear courtyard was lit by two dozen gas lamps, and the twelve snipers from the rear-facing buildings were all watching.
The moment he stepped out of the shadows, they opened fire. He returned fire with his Winchester, and in seven seconds of brutal, close-quarters combat, all twelve snipers were dead. The exchange cost him twenty-two of his white pearl husks.
He ducked back into cover, then flanked around to the other side of the building and began to systematically destroy the rear courtyard with a series of perfectly placed bombs, using the darkness and the chaos to his advantage. The entire area was a maelstrom of fire, explosions, and screams.
He then moved back to the front of the building and, under the cover of the smoke and the darkness, began to pick off the remaining guards, his twin revolvers spitting death into the night.