Chapter 219: Chapter 219: High Caliber Invoices
Alexander backed the silver Tahoe smoothly into the dark loading bay, the massive metal shutter groaning as it rolled shut behind him.
He killed the engine and stepped out of the cabin, walking straight toward the long steel tables where the young clerk and two heavily armed guards were already waiting.
"Alright, let’s skip the small talk," said Alexander, leaning heavily against the edge of a table. "I need to rearm from scratch, and I need a layout. Give me a high-capacity combat shotgun, a reliable assault rifle, a long-range anti-material sniper rifle, a standard pistol, and a rocket launcher. And ammunition. I want boxes, crates, and drums of it. Fill the vehicle’s hidden compartments with bullets."
The young clerk’s eyes widened slightly, a sudden, professional grin replacing his earlier anxiety as he rapidly tapped the request into a rugged tablet. "A rocket launcher? You’re definitely looking to fight a small war, sir. Luckily for you, we just received a fresh shipment of military-grade hardware before the state security chief was taken out."
The guards began wheeling out olive-drab plastic cases, cracking the latches open to display the pristine, oil-slicked weaponry. Alexander spent the next hour meticulously inspecting the inventory. He picked out a Benelli M4 semi-automatic shotgun, a fully customized HK416 assault rifle equipped with a suppressive setup, a bolt-action Barrett .50 cal sniper rifle to handle any armored targets, a standard Glock 19 for close-quarters reliability, and a compact RPG-7 system with a crate of high-explosive warheads.
But the real weight came from the ammunition. The guards stacked crates upon crates of armor-piercing 7.62mm, .50 BMG rounds, 12-gauge slugs, and 9mm hollow-points directly into the Tahoe’s hidden floor cells and reinforced side panels. By the time they finished loading the final drum of ammunition, the vehicle’s heavy-duty suspension compressed noticeably under the sheer ballistic weight.
The clerk finalized the digital invoice and turned the tablet around for Alexander to see. "That brings your total, including the weapons, tactical gear, and a massive surplus of ammunition, to exactly two hundred thousand dollars, sir."
Alexander didn’t even blink. He swiped his secure account card across the reader, authorizing the transaction before sliding the plastic back into his wallet.
He climbed back into the driver’s seat of the silver SUV, fired up the engine, and waited for the metal shutter to roll open. As he slowly pulled back into the narrow alleyway and glanced down at his bank balance interface on the dashboard screen, a dry, bitter laugh escaped his chest.
"Well, there go all of my savings..." muttered Alexander, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. After dropping three million flat on the armored truck and another two hundred grand on a literal mobile armory, his account was practically bled dry. He only had a meager two hundred thousand dollars left to his name. If he didn’t find a new high-paying contract or a target to bleed very soon, he was going to be broke in a city that was actively burning down around him.
Alexander pulled away from the loading bay. Every firearm and crate of ammunition had been placed so nothing was visible to a casual glance, but he had been especially careful to fully load the front compartments hidden of the driver’s seat. Turning out of the dark alleyway, he rolled back into the bright afternoon sun. The massive SUV felt noticeably heavier now under the weight of a literal armory, but the custom suspension handled the ballast beautifully, keeping the ride stable and comfortable.
He still needed to head back and pick up Amy, but that persistent, suffocating sensation of a hidden tail refused to leave him. Fortunately, the Tahoe was equipped with deep, one-way tinted ballistic windows that made it impossible to see anything inside the cabin, while giving Alexander a crystal-clear view of the outside world.
Deciding he had played defense long enough, Alexander began to actively test his tracker. He drove with pacing, turning down one avenue, looping back around a roundabout, and weaving through suburban sectors. He kept his senses dialed to the maximum, noting where the sensation of being watched felt intensely suffocating and where it began to fade. He was trying to aggressively bait them into making a move, dragging the tail out for nearly two hours through every corner of the district. Yet, nobody approached. For a brief moment, he wondered if the grueling TMC pod training was just making him paranoid.
Then, he spotted it.
A highly discreet, standard black sedan crept into view two blocks behind him. It was a ordinary model, but as Alexander adjusted his side mirror, his sharp eyes caught the quick, unmistakable glare of sunlight reflecting off a pair of high-powered binoculars behind the windshield.
Alexander’s lips peeled back into a cold smirk. Without warning, he slammed his foot onto the accelerator, the Tahoe’s massive engine roaring as the vehicle shot forward like a silver bullet. He navigated straight toward the edge of the city, taking the long, isolated highway that led toward Aria’s family estate. As the buildings began to thin out into open fields, the black sedan suddenly slowed down, realizing it was exposed on the open road, and pulled a U-turn to head back into the city center.
But Alexander wasn’t about to let the fish throw the hook. He maintained a steady, teasing pace, looping back toward the highway entry and slowing down at intersections to let the tracker re-establish visual contact. He was patiently drawing the line out, letting them think they were still safely managing the tail.
Seeing a brightly lit service station up ahead on the highway border, Alexander smoothly steered the silver SUV onto the tarmac. He pulled up to a fuel pump, stepped out to secure the automated nozzle to fill the massive tank, and casually walked inside the station’s convenience store.
He moved along the aisles with nonchalance, cracking open a cold soda and grabbing a bag of chips and a random automotive magazine. He walked up to the glass storefront window, taking a slow sip of his drink while keeping his eyes glued to the pavement outside. Within three minutes, the familiar black sedan rolled onto the station lot, parking casually at a distant pump directly opposite his position.
Alexander watched through the glass as the driver stepped out, casually connecting the fuel line while trying to look inconspicuous.
Alexander set his soda down on the counter, his eyes turning dead as a lethal grin spread across his face. It was time to close the trap.
