The Credit's

The driver quickly yanks the knife out of his back and charges at the masked man, firing his gun as he runs. The masked man dodges the bullets with ease.

'I don't have enough bullets for this long-range shit. Gotta close the gap, even if it's a dumb-ass move,' the driver thinks.

He barrels toward the masked man and swings his knife at the man's neck while firing at the same time, hoping to catch him off guard. But the masked man blocks the bullet with his suitcase and counters the knife with his own.

'I have to be relentless if I even want a chance against this bastard,' the driver thinks, gritting his teeth.

The fight escalates, their movements becoming faster and more chaotic. The masked man deflects the driver's attacks with the suitcase effortlessly, while the driver struggles to keep up. His body is littered with fresh cuts from the masked man's blade.

'If this keeps up, I'm gonna bleed out. Two bullets left... Wait. The guns on the dead guys!'

Realizing this, the driver fights more aggressively, steering the masked man toward the corpses. Finally, when he's close enough, he makes a desperate dash for the guns, firing his last two bullets as a distraction. The masked man dodges them effortlessly, but the driver seizes the opportunity to grab the weapons.

This time, the driver reconsiders close combat. He sprints toward his flipped car, firing at the masked man to keep him at bay. The masked man, unbothered, unsheathes a sword from his back. He slices through and dodges the bullets, advancing toward the driver with unnerving calm.

"Shit, shit, shit. I need to get to the car, now!" the driver mutters, his voice shaking.

He reaches the trunk and kicks it open with all his strength. "You tried to hide it, but I knew about this a long time ago, you swine bitch," he growls, reaching under the trunk mat and pulling out a massive rail gun.

"I only have one shot. For fuck's sake, please hit him," he pleads, aiming the glowing blue weapon. He fires, unleashing a beam of energy that lights up the entire area.

The masked man tightens his grip on his sword, which begins to glow a fierce purple. With a swift, precise strike, he slices the beam clean in half. The energy splits and explodes behind him.

The driver stares in disbelief. "Now that's just fucking ridiculous. Why even bother?" He collapses to his knees, defeated.

The masked man approaches, sword raised. The driver closes his eyes, resignation washing over him. In an instant, his consciousness slips away.

The driver feels an odd calm as he floats in a dark, endless void. 'Is this the afterlife?' he wonders.

But sharp, stinging pain jolts him. "What the, who's doing that?!" he yells. The pain repeats, pulling him back to reality as the void brightens.

When his eyes finally flutter open, he's greeted by a noisy, brightly lit room. His arms are restrained by two men holding him down on his knees. The pain he felt? Someone slapping him awake.

In front of him stands a fat, white man with thick dreadlocks, a gaudy gold suit, and a necklace dripping with diamonds. 'Fucking Raymon Garcia. Why the hell did I have to see his ugly mug first after surviving that shit?' the driver thinks bitterly.

"Finally decided to wake up, huh, Vix?" Garcia sneers, settling into a large chair. The room is packed with armed guards wearing the same uniform as Vix.

"Where's the suitcase?" Garcia asks, his voice dripping with menace.

"It got stolen," Vix replies flatly.

Garcia laughs like Vix just told a joke. "Stolen, huh?" He pulls out a gun and points it at Vix's head, but Vix doesn't flinch.

"Don't bullshit me, you bitch. Out of the three of you, only you survived. The other two are dead, and you want me to believe whoever killed them just let you go out of the kindness of their heart? Tell me the truth. How are you connected to that masked motherfucker?"

"I don't know him, and I have no connection to him," Vix says firmly.

But Garcia isn't buying it. "You work for me, and you steal from me? Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?"

"This was my last assignment. Why the hell would I steal from you on my way out?" Vix snaps, his patience wearing thin.

"To say 'fuck you' to me, that's why!" Garcia roars. "You wanted to screw me over, didn't you?"

Vix's temper boils over. "You fucking fat sack of pork, I said I didn't steal your shit! And even if I did, what the fuck are you gonna do about it? I worked for you to pay off a debt, and that debt's been settled for years. You owe me more than two million credits now! Who's paying me that, huh? You? Your swine of a mother?"

The room goes silent. Garcia stares at Vix, his expression blank.

Then he explodes. "You piece of shit! I'll blow your brains out right now!"

Before he can finish, a deafening explosion rocks the room. The front doors burst open, smoke filling the air. The guards holding Vix let go, startled, as chaos erupts around them.