"I wish money would just fall from the sky." 

Lisa gazed up, lost in the vast expanse of blue above. The university rooftop was technically off-limits to students, but for a few with nimble fingers and lock-picking skills, this restriction hardly mattered. Tragically, many had lost their lives here. Unable to bear their burdens, they chose the finality of the fall. Yet, for Lisa, this was her serene escape. Here, she could let the gentle breeze dance through her raven-black hair and let her thoughts wander.

Six agonizing months.

The thought loomed large in her mind, casting a shadow over her every waking moment. Six months was all she had left. When that time elapsed, she would find herself on the precipice of expulsion from the esteemed medical university. Missing her tuition payment for the third time was a line she couldn't cross. This was her last year. It would be a waste if all of those just went away due to expulsion. Heck, this was the last semester. 

The bitter irony of her situation was not lost on her. As she was battling to keep her academic dreams afloat, she was simultaneously drowning in the quagmire of her father's unpaid debts. The cruel twists and turns of life seemed relentless, constantly threatening to pull her under. She only heard rumors about it, but it was in the number of millions.

She contemplated various ways to earn money, shying away from anything outright illegal. She did, however, walk a thin line. After all, she had been overseeing operations at a senior's medical clinic without the requisite license. It was a risky gambit, and while it brought in some money, it was a mere drop in the ocean compared to the mountains of debt and unpaid tuition she faced. And the looming threat of the loan sharks was ever-present, ready to strip away until all that was left were underwear.

A New Message from Burns

Burns, her close friend and arguably one of the most striking figures at the neighboring engineering university, the Technology Institute of Angor. Theirs was a friendship forged by chance. Lisa had first encountered him amidst the chaos of a traffic accident. Since then, their relationship had evolved into a symbiotic one. Whenever Burns needed medical attention, he'd seek out Lisa. And when Lisa had an idea about a potential medical app or needed some financial assistance, Burns was her go-to.

Burns: "Lisa, I'm in a bit of a bind. Can you lend a hand? I've developed an app for my latest research project, and I need a fresh set of eyes on it."

Lisa: "What's it about? An app for what specifically?"

Knowing Burns' deep involvement in computer science and his recent work on significant governmental projects this summer, Lisa felt a mixture of curiosity and concern. Why was he reaching out to her?

Burns: "It's designed for the Hans&Krieger database. They're gearing up to unveil a new app for their latest array of weapons. I truly want your perspective on its ease of use."

Lisa: "Me? Navigating through military tech? It's intriguing, but I need to understand the bigger picture here. Why me?"

Burns: "I just need to be certain that someone without tech expertise, say someone in their 50s, can operate it without a hitch. It'd mean a lot if you could help."

Lisa: "Okay, I'm in. What's the next step?"

Burns: "Thank you, Lisa. I'm sending it your way now..."

[Portable Armory 3.0 Has Been Sent]

Lisa: "'Portable Armory'? My goodness, who dreams up these fanciful titles?"

Burns: "I know, I know. But time's ticking. Could you please dive in? I'm on a tight deadline here."

Lisa: "Alright, I'm on it. But seriously, why the urgency? It's unlike you to be this frantic."

[Installing: 25/100%]

[Installation Complete]

Upon opening the app, Lisa was pleasantly surprised by its sleek design. The dark, metallic background gave it a sophisticated feel, especially for a prototype. As she navigated further, a prompt appeared requesting her credentials.

Lisa: "It's prompting for some credentials. What should I enter?"

Burns: "Oh, that's on me. I've prearranged it. Just punch in your name and you should sail through. But Lisa, please, hurry!"

Lisa: "Alright, alright! Keep your shirt on! Remember, tech isn't exactly my strong suit."

[Welcome, New Contractor. Enter Your Credentials]

"Contractor." The title had an intriguing ring to it. As she stood on the precipice of this new venture, Lisa found herself musing about her decision to dive into this app testing escapade. Simple enough, she thought: just input her details, and she'd be ushered into the main interface.

[Kindly Enter Valid Information]

[Name: Lisa Elenhard]

[Occupation: Provided]

[Government ID: Provided]

[Location: Angor District, Budgan, Cinderis]

[Referral User: Burns Caliburns]

[Please Capture A Photo]

The depth of personal information being requested gave her pause. However, recalling that Hans&Krieger stood tall as one of the country's premier firearms manufacturers — custodian of secrets pertaining to cutting-edge weapon technology — her hesitancy waned. A leak of any kind could spell catastrophe. And while it would be equally disastrous if, say, the list of war crimes done by the com-block were to inadvertently become public knowledge, that was pondering for another day.

[Welcome, Contractor. Your Starter Kit Awaits. Please Claim It.]

Lisa: "Done. Now what?" 

Burns: "Wait…"

[You Have A New Message from Burns]

Lisa opened the intra-company messaging service. It was not different from her LINE or WhatsApp, with the appearance similar to Telegram more than anything, except that the color was dark gray instead of blue. She then had a .asg file called "Help Me!" from Burns. 

[Help Me!]

• Get to the coordinate. Help me. quickly!

Reward: [300$]

Lisa: "So… what are you trying to do?" 

Burns: "Just click accept, please." 

Lisa: "Okay, but this feels weird."

[Mission Accepted: 25 Minutes until the contractor is expired]

Lisa: "Burns, what is this?" 

Burns: "I'll explain everything later. Please, help me, I'm afraid I can't last much longer. Don't forget your starter kit, I paid for it." 

Lisa: "WHAT?" 

Burns' silence echoed ominously. Lisa tried to reach him on WhatsApp, Line, and so on, but he was conspicuously absent from the online space. Her heart rate ticked upward as an eerie scene began to unfold before her. The lone illumination on the rooftop was a stark light, under which sat an enigmatic box.

Confusion swirled within Lisa. Was she caught in a figment of her imagination? Or was reality taking a dark and foreboding turn? The word 'expired' kept repeating in her mind. What had happened to Burns? Why was that term echoing so loudly in her consciousness? Discomfort gnawed at her as she approached the box, cautiously opening the secure pelican container.

Burns, what have you dragged me into?

The container revealed a trove of ominous gear: a pristine Remington 700 bolt-action rifle, a sleek 1911, a bulletproof vest packed with ammunition and magazines, a solid bulletproof helmet, a balaclava, and a bag brimming with medical essentials. As she tried to make sense of it all, a distant yet unmistakable sound jolted her into high alert — the deafening roars of gunfire.

Instant recognition hit her. She remembered that cacophonous sound from her mandatory service year during the nation's civil unrest. Lisa's eyes darted toward the direction of the noise. The muzzle flashes painted an unsettling portrait on the horizon. With swift reflexes, she seized the bolt-action rifle, its scope granting her a closer look at the unfolding chaos.

Three imposing black sedans were pinning down a lone Corolla, which Lisa quickly discerned as Burns'. Gunfire erupted between the two factions. From her vantage point, she could spot Burns, injured but fighting, nestled behind his car's front wheel. His attire suggested combat readiness, and in his grasp was an intimidating firearm. Blood painted a grim trail from his wounded leg.

"What in the world, Burns?" Lisa whispered, steadying the rifle against the rooftop's railing.

Peering through the scope, she zeroed in on one of the assailants attacking Burns. These weren't ordinary thugs; they exuded an aura of organized crime with their sharp suits and formidable AKs, among other weapons. "Who have you crossed paths with, Burns? The Solis Mafia?" Lisa mused, a torrent of emotions cascading through her. She knew she had to act swiftly; Burns, her link to understanding this mayhem, was in grave danger.

With a determined exhale, Lisa tightened her grip on the rifle, aligned the crosshair, and squeezed the trigger.