Big Daddy and Mindy's secret base.
Click!
Click!
Mindy skillfully removed the magazine, loaded the bullets, opened the safety, took aim, and then closed the safety again.
"That bitch Red Cyclone dared to ambush me and almost burned Big Daddy to death!"
Mindy hid the two guns and looked at Big Daddy's closed door, urging, "Big Daddy, aren't you ready yet? This place has been exposed, we can't stay here!"
In another room…
Big Daddy, who was typing furiously on the computer, quickly looked up and reassured her, "Are you ready? Mindy is amazing! Could I ask you to help me check my gear too?"
Mindy frowned. Big Daddy had never procrastinated before. What was going on?
Did he have hidden injuries she didn't know about?
Mindy didn't know, but that didn't stop her from patiently helping Big Daddy check and maintain his weapons.
Under his guidance, she had always been more familiar with firearms and weapons than with dolls, toys, or dresses other girls liked.
Through countless battles, Mindy deeply understood the importance of weapons in a fight.
Therefore, although she was annoyed by Big Daddy's sudden delay, she still checked everything meticulously.
What Mindy didn't know was that, in another room, Big Daddy was writing furiously.
Letter One:
Dear Mindy,
By the time you receive this letter, I will likely have already left you.
Don't be sad. Having a well-behaved and lovely daughter like you is Big Daddy's eternal pride!
Mindy, your mother passed away early. Even though I tried my best, I couldn't give you the feeling of true motherly love.
At the police station, I have a close friend—Marcus—who is completely trustworthy. Mindy, you should live with Uncle Marcus from now on, and listen to him.
Big Daddy left you some money in a hidden compartment in our other secret base. The password is your mother's birthday. Although it's not a lot, it should be enough for you to live on.
Mindy, never investigate the truth about my death. And never avenge Big Daddy!
Remember! Remember! Remember!
—Your eternally loving Big Daddy ^_^
Letter Two:
To Marcus,
Brother, by the time you receive this email, I should already have left this world.
Everyone is destined to die. I don't resent death, but I can't let go of Mindy.
Over the years, Mindy has been deeply influenced by my belief that "only violence can punish criminals." As I hoped, she's developed skills to protect herself.
But after this tragedy, I realized that I may have been wrong.
This world is far more complex and mysterious than I imagined.
You might be right. Mindy is my daughter, but I shouldn't decide her future too early. She should probably go to school and receive an education like a normal girl.
Years ago, you told me you knew Mrs. Jacqueline at Forest Hill Elementary School. Now that things have come to this, I only hope you can take good care of Mindy.
Regarding my sudden death, Marcus… please do not investigate the cause.
Remember! Remember! Remember!
—Damon Macready, Last Words
After writing the two wills, Damon breathed a long sigh of relief.
He encrypted the emails and set them to a special mode: if he didn't log into his account for seventy-two hours, the wills would automatically be sent.
Now it was time to settle accounts with Frank Amick and his son, Red Cyclone!
They dared to scare Mindy—those scumbags deserved to die ten thousand times over!
But first, he needed to have the intermediary launder Rimuru's one million dollars.
Thinking of Rimuru's possible identity as a Witch, Damon didn't dare take her request lightly.
How could you eliminate evil and uphold justice without money?
The weapons and supplies in the secret room alone cost millions.
Damon and Mindy had no moral qualms—after eliminating criminals, they would helpfully spend all the bad guys' money.
And when it came to money laundering, Damon was a professional.
After checking the equipment and meeting with the contact, Damon and Mindy split up, each staking out Frank Amick's home and company.
Don't be fooled by the movie, where little Hit-Girl infiltrated Frank's base through trickery.
That was only because Damon had been burned to death, and Frank hadn't taken a little girl seriously.
But now, Frank's mindset was different. His defenses had been upgraded to an absurd degree.
Damon and Mindy's revenge route had gone from nightmare difficulty to hell difficulty!
Just after parting with them, Rimuru suddenly remembered the drug lord Frank Amick.
He was a fat, rotten sheep ready to be butchered. Not milking him dry would be a disservice to herself.
The Silver Armored War God was always noble and righteous.
But Hawkeye?
That was completely different.
And she wasn't the one who would take the blame anyway.
Thus, the vigilante Hawkeye—who would later terrify New York's underworld—appeared once more!
Frank's stronghold.
Burly men patrolled day and night with machine guns. After watching the live broadcast of the tragedy, they all realized they had provoked a terrifying enemy.
No one dared slack off.
Suddenly—whoosh! A scream followed.
The sound was too loud. It was impossible to ignore.
"Enemy attack!"
"Alert!"
The gang members raised their guns, ready for a fight. The air grew so tense a pin drop could be heard.
When they saw the arrow stuck in the injured man, they froze.
"A… bow and arrow?"
Who even used bows and arrows in this era?
Was the attacker some primitive tribesman?
But when they saw where the arrow had landed, every man instinctively squeezed his legs together.
Then, boldly walking toward them, came a figure wearing a black cloak, hood, and mask.
Hooded You-Know-Who: "My original target was that guy's head. Do you believe me?"
The gang members were enraged.
They sold "powder," they were villains—cruel ones!
And this hooded freak dared to insult them?
"The fuck?!"
"Open fire!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Muzzle flashes lit up the night. Bullets rained down, casings clattering across the floor.
Soon, a thick layer of brass covered the ground.
But to their horror, the hooded figure still stood in place, unmoved.
Bullets couldn't kill him—was he even human?!
"Are all your magazines empty? Okay then… it's my turn."
Rimuru pulled an arrow from her quiver, drew the bow, aimed, and fired.
A gang member screamed, clutching the spot where he was hit. His face turned bright red—an unnatural flush spreading.
Rimuru winced. "Being unfamiliar with the job is dangerous. I meant to shoot you in the chest! Do you believe me?"
Gang members: "…"
"It's our turn now!"
One of them sneered, "Aren't you playing a turn-based game?!"
Fine. If this idiot wanted turn-based combat, they would give it to him!
"Squad Two! Where's your rocket launcher?!"
"Blow him up!"
"Fire!"
Rimuru sighed. "Alright, now it's my turn. This time I'll aim for your stomach. Baby, are you ready? I swear I aimed for the stomach—you have to believe me!"
"Devil! He's a devil! A demon from hell—run!"
"Why are you running? Getting hit in the back is a warrior's shame!"
She drew, aimed, and fired.
Whoosh!
Another arrow flew, and another burly man collapsed with a howl.
Rimuru covered her face.
She had only wanted to shoot him in the back!
She was destined to be a divine archer like Jebe—so why did her arrows always hit those spots?
This was completely unscientific.