Marvel 176

"100 billion USD? And you actually believed it?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow.

The sniper nodded. "They already gave me 10 billion, and the rest was promised after the job."

"I guess a lot of people pooled their money together to take you down," Vale remarked, glancing at Max, who nodded in agreement.

"What's your name?" Max asked the sniper.

"Maxwell," the sniper replied.

"Hahaha! Max trying to kill Max—what are the odds?" Vale burst into laughter, nearly doubling over, while the sniper sighed and rested the back of his head against the wall.

Max smirked at the irony before crouching in front of Maxwell. "Alright, Maxwell. Since you failed your job and got caught, you have two choices."

Maxwell gulped, his body tense. "What choices?"

Max held up a finger. "One, you work for me now. You're a decent sniper, and I could use someone with your skills." Then, he raised a second finger. "Two, I hand you over to the people who hired you, and trust me, they won't be as forgiving as I am."

Maxwell's eyes darted between Max and Vale, calculating his chances. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious." Max leaned in slightly, his smile never fading. "You already know I can track down your employer, so it won't be hard to figure out who else is after me. You might as well get on the winning side."

Maxwell clenched his jaw. "And if I say yes?"

Max grinned. "Then welcome to the team. I don't expect loyalty right away, but betray me, and you'll wish I had let your employers take you instead."

Maxwell exhaled sharply, then gave a slow nod. "Fine. I'm in."

Vale whistled. "Damn, that was fast. I was expecting more of a fight."

Max stood up, stretching. "Why waste time? Now, Maxwell, first job—go kill one of the guy after me."

"Okay, I will find out about them..." Maxwell was saying when Max tossed him a pendrive. "All the info is inside. You can start by killing one."

Before Maxwell could react, Max grabbed him by the leg and threw him out of the window.

"Why did you kill him?!" Vale shouted in shock, his voice cracking as they stood on the 50th floor.

"I didn't. I just lent him my Shadow Dragon," Max said casually.

Just as he spoke, Vale saw Maxwell soaring through the air, only to be caught mid-fall by a massive black dragon. It was the same creature Max had created during the New York War.

Watching the spectacle, Vale's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Can I have one?" he asked, staring at the majestic black dragon.

Max smirked at Vale's eager expression. "Nope. Get your own."

Vale scoffed. "Tch, selfish bastard. You're out here throwing people off buildings with dragons while I have to take the stairs."

Max chuckled and stretched. "That's life, buddy."

Meanwhile, outside, Maxwell clung to the dragon's back, pale-faced and sweating. "What the hell is this thing?!" he yelled, gripping its scales for dear life.

The dragon let out a deep, rumbling growl as it soared through the city skyline. A voice echoed in Maxwell's mind—Max's voice. "Welcome to my employment. Your first mission: kill the one who hired you."

Maxwell exhaled sharply, realizing he had no choice. "Tch. This job just keeps getting crazier…"

Maxwell sighed as he sat on the dragon's back, watching the city lights blur beneath him. "Tch. I should have just lived my life quietly with the little money I had," he muttered, shaking his head.

He thought back to his past. His mutant ability—turning things around—was pretty useless at first. But one day, he watched a sheriff use ricochet bullets to take out a gang, and that's when it hit him. He could manipulate bullets mid-air, change their direction, make them curve in impossible ways. With training, he became so skilled that he earned the nickname Mystery Bullet—a name that started as a joke but quickly became feared in the underworld.

He had taken out plenty of targets, always avoiding direct conflict, always staying in the shadows. But then that damn 100 billion dollar bounty showed up. Greed got the better of him, and now he was here—riding a massive black dragon, working for some lunatic named Max.

He groaned, rubbing his temples. "By the way… how the hell does this guy have a dragon?!" he yelled into the night sky.

No answer.

"Figures," he sighed. "Guess I'm in for a wild ride."

Maxwell grumbled as the massive black dragon soared through the night sky, its scales shimmering like obsidian under the moonlight. The wind howled past him, but his thoughts were louder.

100 billion dollars… It was enough to buy his own country, to live in luxury for ten lifetimes. But instead, he was now working for the very guy he was supposed to kill.

Below, the city's skyline stretched endlessly, filled with glowing towers and neon lights. He glanced down, realizing just how high up he was.

"Tch. First I'm an assassin, now I'm some dragon rider? What's next? Magic swords? Superpowers?" he muttered, shaking his head.

A voice crackled through a hidden earpiece in his ear—Vale's voice.

"Yo, Maxwell! How's the view? Enjoying the ride?" Vale chuckled.

Max sighed. "Shut up. What the hell am I even doing here?"

"You tell me," Vale teased. "You came to kill Max, and now you're flying his pet dragon like some fantasy hero. Quite the career change, huh?"

"Not funny." Maxwell clicked his tongue. "Where are we even going?"

"Your first target. The guy is flying on his private jet," Max said as he leaned back, checking the time. "Make that private jet his grave. They'll pass over the ocean soon—kill him then."

"Okay," Maxwell replied with a smirk as Vale cut the call.

Maxwell leaned against the Dragon Horns, watching the jet soar through the night sky. He exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching as he prepared to activate his mutant ability.

"A private jet, huh? Expensive coffin." He smirked, pulling out a custom sniper rifle from his case. Unlike normal bullets, his shots could defy logic—curving mid-air, ricocheting endlessly, and even accelerating unpredictably.

***

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