Chapter 8: Infiltration and Rebirth

Logan's registration as a Tier E 8 Grade D mercenary was a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it was a necessary step for what lay ahead. With his new badge tucked securely in his pocket, he was ready to make his next move—into the lion's den itself.

The stingray had served him well, but its distinctive design made it a target for anyone who might recognize it. It wasn't the sort of car you drove around if you wanted to stay unnoticed in the bustling heart of Mexico City, especially not when you were planning to infiltrate a cartel. So, Logan found a quiet, nondescript garage tucked away on the edge of town, hidden behind a maze of back alleys. He parked the Stingray there, covering it with a large tarp, ensuring that no prying eyes would spot it.

With the Stingray secure, Logan made his way to the local car dealership. He wasn't looking for anything flashy, just something that would help him blend in—a car that wouldn't draw attention. After haggling for a bit, he walked away with a used Volkswagen Jetta. It was modest, reliable, and most importantly, forgettable. Just what he needed for this next phase of the mission.

The streets of Mexico City were a far cry from the dusty roads he had traveled before. The air was thick with smog, the city's skyline dominated by towering skyscrapers and neon signs that bathed the streets in a constant glow. The hum of the city was a cacophony of sounds—horns blaring, vendors shouting their wares, music spilling from open windows. But Logan was no longer just a visitor here; he was becoming a part of the underworld, a shadow moving unnoticed among the masses.

He drove through the bustling streets, taking note of key locations as he passed. There was the Mercado de Sonora, a sprawling marketplace known for its black market goods. Cartel soldiers and shady figures mingled with civilians, exchanging items that ranged from weapons to illicit drugs. The Plaza de la Constitución was a more public area, but Logan knew better than to let his guard down. Even here, cartel influence was palpable.

Further into the city, he passed by the Torre Latinoamericana, a towering skyscraper that housed both legitimate businesses and underground operations. In the shadows of these structures were the quieter streets, lined with rundown apartments where cartel associates and mercenaries like himself lived, and where the real power in Mexico City pulsed beneath the surface.

The Valdez cartel, Logan's new target, was deeply entrenched in the city's fabric. The headquarters was rumored to be located in an industrial zone on the outskirts, a sprawling compound surrounded by layers of security. It was the kind of place that required a carefully planned approach.

As Logan parked the Jetta in a small, unmarked lot near the Valdez compound, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. It was a sensation he had grown used to in his line of work, but in a city like this, it felt more pronounced. The cartel's eyes were everywhere.

He adjusted his jacket, checked his weapons, and made sure his force field was primed for any surprises. He wasn't here to make a spectacle. He was here to join, to get in close, to gather intel from the inside. He'd have to earn his way into their confidence, and that would mean playing the part of a cold, efficient mercenary—a Tier E 8 Grade D triggerman at their disposal.

Logan moved through the city with a practiced ease, blending into the crowd. His mind was already mapping out the next steps—getting his foot in the door, making himself valuable, and waiting for the right moment to strike. Every corner of the city seemed to hold secrets, and he was determined to uncover them all.

After a month,Logan had quickly found his rhythm in the underworld of Mexico City, becoming a name whispered among those who valued cold efficiency and deadly precision. But it wasn't just his reputation as a sharpshooter and a mercenary that began to make waves—it was the way he adapted to the ever-evolving world of enhanced combat. The world he was entering wasn't just about skills; it was about technology, myth, and a blend of the two.

While Logan spent his days tracking bounties, perfecting his craft, and making a name for himself, he also came across something more profound—Synths. These were men and women who had fused their human capabilities with advanced technology. A meeting with one such Synth at an underground black-market armory left Logan in awe. The Synths could craft suits with unparalleled power—Iron Man-like exoskeletons capable of immense strength, Predator killer suits that enhanced agility and stealth, and even Black Panther-style vibranium armor that could absorb kinetic energy. For a price, the Synths offered these suits to those willing to pay, or for the right job, they could even custom-make a set. It was clear that technology had come a long way since the days of simple firearms. With a little cash and the right connections, one could arm themselves to take on almost anything.

It wasn't just technology that Logan encountered. He also learned about the Arcanists—individuals who had mastered extraordinary, often mythical forces that could enhance weaponry or even their own physical prowess. Arcanists were rare, and while their capabilities were impressive, they were only dangerous when armed. Without weapons, they were no different from regular humans. But in battle, they could imbue their blades with elemental forces—fire, ice, lightning—creating weapons that could tear through metal or incinerate anything in their path. Logan couldn't help but marvel at the potential of these individuals.

As Logan's mercenary lifestyle/skills continued to develop, he took a mission which he had to capture three Tier F5 to 9 robbers—a pair of shifters and an esper—off the mercenary bounty list. They were quick to fall, their attempts at escape futile against his speed, precision, and gravity manipulation. The robbers weren't particularly strong, but the way they moved together and used their abilities required Logan to adapt his combat tactics. The capture was quick, clean, and uneventful, a perfect display of his newfound abilities and control.

The next mission was different—more complicated. Logan had been hired by an anonymous client to assassinate a prominent figure in the underworld prostitution business. The target was a high-ranking individual with connections to the Valdez cartel, someone who held sway over several territories. Logan used his training to disguise himself, becoming a shadow in the night, erasing every trace that could link him to the hit. He made it look like a simple accident. But as with most things in the underworld, nothing ever stayed buried for long. Despite his efforts, the assassination was quickly traced back to him. The upper echelons of the underworld—and even the Valdez cartel—had their eyes on him now. They knew who he was, and they weren't blind to his growing influence.

Logan's reputation as an mercenary continued to grow when he was hired to protect a convoy transporting valuable supplies across a dangerous stretch of road. The convoy was ambushed by rogue Tier E 7 to 9 titans, the enormous brutes possessing raw strength and enhanced durability. The titans had been ordered to hijack the convoy, but Logan wasn't about to let them succeed. He took them out with methodical precision, using his gravity abilities to disarm them, crush their momentum, and outmaneuver their brute strength. It was a dangerous fight, but Logan emerged victorious with a couple of injuries,his name now synonymous with reliability in the face of danger.

A month had passed since Logan first arrived in Mexico City, and in that time, his name had spread far and wide. He was known as an upcoming mercenary—young, just 18 years old, but already a force to be reckoned with. His reliability, sharp instincts, efficiency, and deadliness had earned him the respect of other mercenaries, and soon, underworld organizations began to take notice.

A few of these organizations approached him, offering him work and enticing him with promises of wealth and power. But Logan was calculating. He wasn't interested in joining anyone just yet. He respectfully rejected their offers, telling them, "If you need me, I can be your go-to guy, but I'm not looking for a permanent place to call home. Not yet." It wasn't just the money—it was about building his reputation. He wasn't ready to be owned by anyone.

The whispers reached the ears of James blanc an ex special forces titan and also the head of security for the Valdez cartel, who had been tracking Logan's activities closely. The cartel had its own interests in Logan's rise. The Valdez cartel, facing increasing pressure from rival factions and internal strife, needed someone like him—a young, efficient, and deadly asset who could fill gaps where their more traditional muscle had failed.

James wasted no time in passing the word to Emilio Valdez, the cartel leader. He knew that if they didn't act quickly, other organizations would snap Logan up, and the cartel could miss out on a powerful ally. Emilio understood the value of Logan—he wasn't just an ordinary mercenary. He was talented, and Emilio knew that talent was a rare commodity in a world filled with power-hungry gangs and corrupted organizations.

"Recruit him now, prepare a gift just incase we need get him" Emilio said, his voice cold and calculated. "Before someone else does."

Logan's name was about to go from a whispered legend to a marked target, but whether he would become a tool for the Valdez cartel or carve out his own path remained to be seen. The game was only beginning, and the stakes had never been higher.