Chapter 13: Business Promotion

In Texas, a region with a distinct character in American history, the local culture is fiercely independent and often at odds with the federal government. Every year, Texans, including their mayors and various politicians, openly oppose the U.S. government for no apparent reason. Aside from the American flag planted firmly on their land, they pay taxes like everyone else but otherwise operate as if they were an independent nation.

Texas has famously refused to abolish the death penalty, even ignoring national warnings during the 1980s to carry out the first lethal injection. It also boasts the highest execution rates in the country, along with a staggering number of revenge killings and violent crimes. Scholars have suggested that the crime rates in Texas alone could rival those of Chicago over a decade—the city known for its notorious gang activity.

In the "Land of the Free," Texas stands out as a unique entity. Here, government authority holds little power; the gun is the ultimate authority. If you want to set up a factory or even live in this area, you need three essentials: a fully fueled vehicle, at least two handguns, and a submachine gun, all loaded and ready. The last requirement? Never walk on any road alone, except if you're a local.

This exclusionary attitude reflects Texas's culture, where the people are warm and enjoy gatherings. If they take a liking to you, they might even offer you a drink—though it must be from the opposite sex, as Texas is notorious for its anti-LGBTQ stance. In this land, might makes right; often, a single bullet speaks louder than any words. Moreover, Texas is home to the strongest military recruitment in the nation.

Historical records from this region are peculiar, but to Peter, they held little relevance. New Mexico and Texas, both territories with complicated histories, were not purely American. New Mexico once belonged to Mexico, and during the Civil War, it became part of the United States. The reasons for this transition remain murky, just as Texas joined the Union as an independent nation, frequently criticizing the U.S. government and causing headaches for politicians.

As Peter drove through the dusty roads, he reflected on his twelve-day journey from Dallas to this small town located just fifty kilometers from New Mexico. He parked his car near a gas station and looked over the route map Kingpin had provided him. This should be the last stop; he had already wiped out several towns, cleansing all the drug zones.

Bang! 

"Looks like you came prepared…" 

A bullet grazed his shoulder, a sign of an ambush. Upon entering the town, he sensed something was off—there wasn't a single passerby. Even considering Texas's sparse population, this level of desolation was unusual. Noticing the direction of the gunfire, he slowly maneuvered toward the wall, aware that the distance and wind interference made it unlikely that the shooter was using anything less than an anti-tank sniper rifle. The shooter was skilled; had Peter not shifted slightly, the bullet would have pierced his shoulder.

"Still trying to capture me, huh? Nice try, buddy!" 

As the window shattered and gunfire erupted, Peter aimed his weapon, firing back while simultaneously blasting bullets into the air. He quickly adjusted his aim and unleashed a barrage toward the other side. After emptying his magazine, he accelerated, tossing a grenade toward the gas station's resting area.

The buildings in this town were sparsely arranged, with ample space between them. Five gang members, armed and clearly not the brightest, burst out of their hiding spots, spraying bullets at Peter's previous position, believing they could overpower him in close quarters.

Meanwhile, Peter had already slipped into another building from the rear, resuming his game of hide-and-seek. He figured there was at least one sniper in the area, and now that he was in the town, he estimated he was within their effective shooting range. Being cautious was wise; the highest vantage points needed to be secure. With two buildings in front of him, he made a quick leap, hoping to dodge any incoming attacks. The gangsters were closing in faster than expected.

Bang! Bang! 

"Jason! What the hell are you doing?!" 

"My leg! Ah…" 

"Carl, we have to kill him!" 

"Jason, shoot! Aren't you a former sniper? Shoot him already!" 

Five shots rang out, but none found their mark, hitting two men in the thighs and three in the arms instead. The barrage of curses filled the air, and Peter seized the opportunity to leap toward a building closer to the center. The sniper's fire ceased momentarily, likely distracted by the chaos among his teammates. A sniper must maintain composure; emotional turmoil could easily lead to a missed shot, especially when the stakes were so high.

Peter had already pinpointed the sniper's location. The commotion had provided him with enough information to strategize his next move. The highest broadcast room was surrounded by empty streets. Regardless of how Peter maneuvered, he would remain within the sniper's line of sight. And then…

Bang! 

Bang! 

Dust and debris erupted around Peter's feet as bullets struck the ground. He steadied himself, positioning his gun while bracing with the other hand. A bullet whizzed past his face, narrowly missing him, while another grazed the opposite cheek, creating a symmetrical pattern. Peter smiled behind his mask, obscuring any visible reaction. The sniper fired again.

Bang! 

The same sound, the same trajectory; two bullets struck the ground simultaneously. If the sniper couldn't see the issue now, he was only fooling himself. Beads of sweat dripped down the sniper's forehead, the pressure mounting. He was merely trying to make a living, with a family waiting for him. He couldn't afford to die here. Yet, turning back could mean he would never again hold a gun. The sniper clenched his jaw, nearly biting his own lip until blood seeped through.

"Jason…" 

Bang! 

The desperate voice came from the corner. The man, still defiant, insisted on letting the sniper continue firing. Peter turned and shot, piercing the man's forehead. He then turned his attention to the remaining gang members, realizing one of them was likely the leader. A lone figure leaving the scene was never a good sign; companionship was always a testament to brotherhood.

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

After just a short pause, Peter ended the lives of several men. He glanced at the broadcast tower. Whenever he aimed at someone who shouldn't die, a reminder surfaced within him. Killing wasn't an issue; it was the reminder suggesting he shouldn't. Over the past year, he had tested this theory repeatedly, confirming its accuracy. This was likely a discernment feature provided by his system.

While he didn't know if the sniper was genuinely a good person, he recognized that as long as the reminder existed, sparing the sniper was feasible as long as he didn't act foolishly.

The gunfire ceased. Peter had once again successfully thwarted the gang's ambush. Walking through the streets, he searched for a vehicle, prying open the trunk to retrieve two barrels of gasoline. He was unsure why the town was so empty, with only five or six oddballs remaining, but his work had to continue. He splashed gasoline around the target restaurant and, while dialing a number, tossed a lit lighter behind him as he turned to leave.

"Hello." 

"It's me." 

"It's done." 

"Time to pay up!"