Franck touched the corpses with his foot, while uttering a grunt.

These two, lying on the ground, had not returned after more than three days.  The boss, losing patience, then entrusted him and his team with the task of finding them at all costs, since they were under his responsibility.

What he discovered—in this case, their two bodies—did not please him at all.  Their corpses were in an advanced state of putrefaction. Their injuries indicate that they were shot with bare hands and knives.

The apartment they were in smelled of death; everything was a monumental mess.

“Boss, I don’t think the boss is going to like it,” one of his underlings told him while holding his nose.

"You surprise me! Of course, he will be angry, these two were important resources for the organization. Replacing them will take us time."

“What do you think he’s going to do?”

The man in question took a moment to respond.  Eyes lost in the wave, while grimacing because of the smell.

"Given the scale of this affair, He will surely send people to match the affront."

The man, satisfied with the answers, returned to searching the apartment, looking for any clue.

Franck, for his part, was thinking about how this dirty guy with red hair had become a real pain in the ass for the organization, and for him.

At first, he was just a hillbilly, who happened to witness the murder of a cop, who was in conflict with the Kingpin.

Instead of shutting up, he went after the police. What he didn't know was that the Kingpin had a very long arm. His testimony hadn't landed where he'd hoped.

In addition to being a snitch, this bastard was slippery as an eel. He lived like a wanderer, never staying in one place for too long. He had no family to put pressure on and no friends.

This guy was a fucking ghost, a bitch of the worst kind.

After having mutilated the Caïd's men after him, now he was simply killing them.  This guy was a damn problem that needed to be resolved ASAP.  If we found out that one poor redneck was single-handedly screwing up their business,  They would be the laughing stock of the entire New York underworld; that was unacceptable. And if that were to happen, he would not give dearly of his skin and his men.

Grabbing his phone, he pressed each number with an angry tone. Shit ! How can this situation annoy me? He hissed angrily.

Stomping his foot while the phone rang, he suddenly heard a serious, almost contemptuous, voice on the other end of the line. God, he hated dealing with this guy; although scary, he preferred to refer directly to the boss rather than to him.

"Mr. Wesley, we found Erika and John. They are unfortunately dead, and we have no trace of this, Alex."

"HN, I see. The incompetence of your men, including you, to resolve this simple matter is beyond inconvenience, Mr. Franck. Our employer will be truly sorry for this setback."

At these contemptuous words, Franck gritted his teeth in anger. He wanted to tell this guy to go fuck himself. Let him come to the field to see if it was so easy.

“I understand, Mr. What is the next course of action now.”

"There is no need to worry about it anymore, Mr. Franck. I believe that this affair has gone on for too long. Bring me all the clues in your possession. I will take care of it personally from now on. In the meantime, wait for my instructions."

“Very well, Mr. Wesley.”

Hanging up, Franck took the table next to him.  Calmly picked it up, then, without warning, began to break everything that came under my hand.

"You son of a bitch! I'm going to skin you alive! When I find you, I'll cut your balls off, for making me look like an idiot. AHH."

"Fuck! What are you looking at, you bunch of useless bums. If you can't find anything, get off your ass, we'll leave in five minutes."

 

 *****
James Wesley Wilson's right-hand man and confidant.  I was concerned, to say the least.  As he headed towards the latter's office.

The attempt to silence a nuisance was taking an increasingly unfortunate turn.

Agreements were to be concluded next month with different organizations.  And they would make it their duty to investigate their seriousness.  And what's happening right now is certainly not.

He straightened his suit carefully, while adjusting his glasses.  Wesley knocked on Fisk's office door.

“Please come in,” a gruff voice said.

"Mr. Fisk, it seems that our little problem that occurred six months ago has taken on a whole new dimension. He has just physically eliminated two of our best men."

"I see"

"For the trouble, I took permission to contact Mr. Bullseye. He is completely available."

“You did well, Wesley.”

Knowing his boss intimately, Wesley knew that the boss was concocting a plan to effectively answer the puzzle, which is why,, despite the silence that reigned, he remained in the same place, waiting for instructions.

"Wesley, what about the bodies? Have the police intervened yet?"

“From what I was told, sir, they are seriously damaged. For the police, no.

"I see, this is what you are going to do. Contact our friends in the police, help them, to disguise the crime, so that it portrays our man, as a crazy and bloodthirsty serial killer, to be shot on sight. Do circulate his photo in the press so that he cannot escape.

Smart, Wesley said it with a smile on his face.

” Put a bounty anonymously on his head.  Bullseye will always be there.  I want his head within a week.  You follow me ?"

 

 “Of course, Mr. Fisk.”

 *****

My improvised training dummies were in a bad state.  Parts of them were missing, others were burned, or completely torn apart.

It had been almost a week since I moved from the motel to an old abandoned industrial warehouse on the outskirts of downtown.  Firstly, I wanted to avoid unwanted and dangerous contacts (I only went out at night), and secondly, I had to train in magic in a discreet and calm place.

Slowly, but surely, the training had paid off.  I had managed to reduce the recharge time of my gunslinger spell, to a rate of one shot per half-second.  I could fire almost 30–40 rounds with a maximum range of 100 m, before running out of juice.  Paradoxically, as my control increased,  The projectiles became smaller.  Much more devastating too.

I had also meditated, in the hope of accessing a new spell.  My beginner's luck was not so great, it seems.  However, I had better control over my magical reserves and a better understanding of my body.

The latter's test was quite good, my strength was not bad at all.  Even if it were far from monstrous, at my peak, I could lift almost 150 kilos without straining.  And for speed, I wash the floor with the Olympic athletes.  I also tried to pierce my skin with a knife, but it took a long time to draw blood.  Despite this progress, I still had to be screened again.

I suspect that all these boosts could have been unlocked and improved, thanks to my connection to the grimoire.  Without a doubt, I was a fire mage, which in itself was quite ironic.  Considering what I did in my life before,

In the Black Clover verse, a grimoire allows you to have better control over your element via spells.  So when you have a magical attribute, for example, fire for me. It can be practiced without any pproblems. And that's what I was trying to do all this wweek,apart from strengthening magic and improving my gunslinger.

Since I had a technique for medium range combat,  I needed one for melee combat.  To do this, I shamelessly tried to reproduce a technique from Naruto, namely the piercing technique of the 3rd Raikage.

Honestly, at the moment, it was sh*t.  It would cut through human flesh like butter.  But it was extremely difficult to cross a very thick concrete wall.  I know, I sound greedy and impatient.  But this is Marvel, concrete is like paper for a lot of people, in most alternate realities.
I'm not the type to look for shit, but I need to be able to defend myself if it happens.

Looking at my hand, I focused my mana one last time on my fingertips.  I imagine them, as a material heated to thousands of degrees, capable of piercing everything (I know, it's vague).  Feeling ready, I jumped back, planted my feet firmly on the ground, and then swung my fingers out at full speed, glowing with flames. The kinetic energy should add a tremendous boost to this attack.

Boom!  The wall opposite shook under the force of my assault.

Carefully, I began to examine the damage. The holes my fingers made were a few centimeters deeper than the ones yesterday.

For the moment, I was happy with the result, even if the time it took me to gather the mana between my fingers, ignite them, and all that was a little too long for my liking.  Also, given the temperature of these, I cannot maintain this technique for too long.  At the risk of burning my fingers.

"Okay, I think that's enough for today. Even if my arsenal is slim, If I stay careful, I should get through this."

Later in the night.

With each item the lady checked, she kept giving me worried looks that were meant to be discreet.  At first, I was amused, but considering the frequency and the faces she made from time to time,  I was beyond pissed now.

“Oh, Madam, you could do it faster, I don’t have that to do, you know.”

The lady in question jumped at my words, it was as if I had just caught her.  Panicked, she completed her task at lightning speed.

I rolled my eyes at this observation.  Man, the people here are weird.

With a grumpy thanks, I thanked him and then left.

Checking my newly purchased watch, I saw that it was barely 9 p.m.  I was thinking about making myself a little fast food when suddenly I heard, Hey!  It was quite resonant, and of course I snubbed it superbly.

"Hey, redhead! Yes, you who are turning a deaf ear."

It’s so cliché, I groaned, some random punk with his friends, attacking the MC to make a point, what a drag!

“Your name wouldn’t be Alex, by any chance.”

For a second, I froze.  Shit, I said under my breath.  Even if it was barely whispered, the guy heard it, given what he was going to say to me.

“Your reaction proves that it’s really you.”

“Yes, it’s me,” I replied, defensively. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing too bad, my friend replied with a smile on his face.”

By the time I answered him, the guy had pulled out a gun that he kept hidden under his jacket.  His companions are doing the same.

“Hey sh*t, I said.”

Without warning, I threw my package at him, his face quickly navigating between him and those around me to gain distance.  Not fazed at all, they quickly responded with a flurry of bullets, which I dodged as best I could.

Grabbing a trash can to my left, I threw it at two guys who were approaching a little too close for my liking.  I was tempted to use Gunslinger, but I changed my mind, I was in a crowded street although emptied by the shooting.  Everyone could see me.

 My physical attributes must be able to handle these punks.  While thinking these thoughts, I had already sneaked behind a car to reach my next target.

The guy seemed a little nervous, let's make the most of it quickly.  Like lightning, I emerged from behind the car, the guy didn't even have time to shoot before I broke his arm in an arm lock, then I knocked him out.

All I had left was the leader.  Shit, he was running away towards what appeared to be his car. Thinking he was leaving, I chased after him.  But no !  The guy opened the trunk, took out a damn M14, and started shooting everything like a crazy person.

“But you’re fucking sick!” I shouted at him, taking cover behind a car. “There are innocent people here.”

My words had fallen on deaf ears.  Probably due to my magical attribute, I felt the heat that the bullets gave off, I even managed to detect their paths.  But avoiding them was something else.

Silence, it seems his magazine is empty.  Glancing over, I saw that he was reloading.

“No, no way,” I mentally shouted.

By the time he finished, I was already on top of him.  Our first exchanges proved that he was good at close combat.  But that didn't matter, I'm stronger, that's the main thing.  Grabbing his head with one hand, I smashed him against the car window.

Furious I asked him, “Who do you work for?”

Instead of answering, the idiot started laughing and spat in my face.  For the punishment, I slapped him hard enough that he spat out his teeth.

“Who do you work for? I repeated it louder.”

Damn, he passed out.

While trying to look as small as possible, I returned to where my items had fallen.  The street was empty, and I will certainly have time to take whatever is salvageable.  Before leaving this city for good, which was putting my nerves to the test.

I had barely started walking when I heard the sound of a helicopter passing overhead.  By the time I looked toward his lit headlight, I felt something warm overcome the air resistance.

What the hell was this, I thought as I fled.  Murderers, now the police.  What did I do that was so bad?