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Tristan swore under his breath.

The timing was terrible. At least he already finished his most important business in the music hall. As for other things Tristan wanted to do—such as making important in the future connections with other people attending the party—he will have to live without them.

The address Pierce named was one of King Lion Gang\'s properties, and was located forty minutes of riding away from the music hall. Just checking the map made Tristan\'s mood even worse.

Without switching his identity back, Tristan hurried down the hallways toward the parking lot. People were too busy partying to pay Hayes any mind.

In the parking lot, he sent a text to Nel, saying that he had urgent business and had to leave.

Then, he rode through the streets, breaking the speed limit everywhere he could get away with it, and using the narrow frame of his moped to squeeze between cars stuck in traffic jams.

Several times Tristan got dangerously close to scratching some paint off a car or driving over a pedestrian. His driving skill even increased twice.

Pierce called him several times, all of which Tristan ignored, because he wasn\'t going to drive one-handed.

Tristan still came to the scene late.

The place was a hardware shop, although it was just a front for doing some less legal things in the basement. Right now, the place was utterly wrecked.

The front windows were smashed, and glass shards were lying over the ground. The merchandise on the shelves closest to the entrance was knocked off the shelves. Next to the entrance, where the checkout counter stood, there was a pool of drying blood.

The entire scene was separated from the surroundings by yellow tape and surrounded by people. Besides a few police officers, there were plenty of curious pedestrians, which were pushed away by the officers.

Tristan stopped the moped at a safe distance from the entire thing, knowing that he was way too late to do anything.

He parked the moped and approached the police cordon. His ears caught the conversation between pedestrians.

"I heard gunshots… you think it was another turf war?"

"Hey! Tell us, was this a gang attack? Come on, officers, is this too much to ask?!"

"Just a robbery, I bet. Someone should finally tighten the gun laws. Anyone can get a gun these days. \'As the founding fathers intended\', my ass…"

"Poor cashier… She was still of college age. And they say after this that being a cashier is an easy, not-risky-at-all job. It doesn\'t pay a living wage, either!"

"Stop crowding the crime scene! Go away, or I\'m going to start fining you for impeding justice!" a young police officer shouted at the crowd of pedestrians in frustration. "If you saw the attack, then please give your statement at the police station!"

Grudgingly, the people began to move away, and Tristan with them.

He walked far enough to not be overheard and finally called Pierce back.

Tristan was immediately hissed at.

"Hayes! The police, the damned police, got to the crime scene faster than you! Good thing you aren\'t the only person who works for me. Where are you?"

"At the place, Mr. Pierce."

Pierce tsked.

"Let\'s hope it\'s not too late. First! Get into the basement and destroy the evidence of our operations inside. Don\'t get caught. Second—you have sharp ears, I noticed. Hang around the place as much as you can, listen to what the policemen say.

Find what you can about the attack. They wore masks with the Cuatro Angulos symbol, but I don\'t know why the cartel attacked here and now."

"Understood, Mr. Pierce."

"After this, I want you to visit the business owner at home. Give him some cash and calm him down. And don\'t be late next time! I\'m not paying you to be late, Hayes. Your talents mean nothing if you are nowhere where you need to be!"

Pierce ended the call before Tristan could reply to that.

He really was angry right now, if he acted this way.

Tristan sneered.

\'Cuatro Angulos? If these Mexicans are after me again, I\'m going to smear them over the grass like a dog turd I accidentally stepped on.\'

With these thoughts, Tristan took off his shiny and quite conspicuous jacket and put it into his moped\'s small storage compartment in the back.

Then he went to do the damage control.

Tristan walked around the store, sneaking from the back entrance. It was risky, but with his high stealth skill, he could move soundlessly in the shadows while the police checked out the front of the store.

He sneaked through the service rooms, while the police walked around, taking photos of everything. His ears caught parts of their conversations.

"The cash box is still full. Either this wasn\'t a robbery, or the attackers were spooked before they could take it."

"What does the security camera footage show?"

"Not much. It was the first thing they shot at. We only have a shot of some people in masks, inside a car with covered numbers. The only thing that stands out is the symbol painted on their masks."

Tristan reached his goal—the basement entrance. It was in a storage room, hidden under an empty box. On his way through the storage, Tristan picked up a small blowtorch and got it out of the packaging.

Inside the basement, hidden from anyone\'s eyes, was a miniature manufacture of fake documents and cash. The air here smelled like fresh paint, despite the huge air vent in the wall, and the wall was lined with tall stacks of paper. Some fake dollar bills were drying on a hanger.

Breathing through the mouth, Tristan raised his blow torch.

\'I will have very little time to get away after I set things on fire. Perhaps… status!\'

He did a few taps.

[Ding!]

[Athletics skill increased from 219 to 619.]

After this, Tristan turned the blowtorch on and began setting all the paper on fire.