The MILFs Club: Special Delivery for my Aunt

Chapter 234: Chapter 234: Investments

Alexander drove through the quiet streets and pulled into the parking lot of Stephen’s gym. He killed the engine and walked inside. The best part about this place was that it operated twenty-four hours a day.

For the first time since Alexander had started coming here, Stephen wasn’t caught screwing some girl. Instead, he was sitting behind the main desk, leaning over a stack of invoices—or at least pretending to review them.

Stephen looked up as the front door chimed, a sharp smirk cutting across his face when he recognized the young man.

"Are you here for the capsule?" asked Stephen, tossing his pen onto the desk.

"You told me I couldn’t train my physical body right now, so it’s not like I have any other choice," said Alexander, stopping in front of the counter.

"It’s for your own good, brat," said Stephen, his expression flattening as his tone took a serious, heavy edge. "Though before I send you in, I need to tell you one thing. The city has gotten way too hot. Keep a low profile, no matter what the fuck you’re doing. Stop whatever it is you’ve been pulling, because you have too many factions investigating you right now."

Alexander narrowed his eyes, his posture tensing.

"Don’t worry about Big Black," said Stephen, waving his hand. "I already took care of talking to him myself, so he won’t be bothering you too much over that past incident. But you need to stay quiet for a while."

Alexander stared at him, trying to read the older man’s unbothered demeanor.

"Why are you helping me?" asked Alexander, his voice dropping. "What do you stand to gain from this?"

"It’s just an investment," said Stephen, leaning back in his chair with a cold, knowing grin.

"That’s exactly what scares me," said Alexander, shaking his head. "I don’t know what kind of fucked-up shit you’re going to ask for in return."

"Hahaha!" laughed Stephen, his booming voice echoing through the empty gym lobby. "First you survive, then we’ll talk about how you’re going to pay me back."

Alexander stepped inside the capsule. Since he wasn’t passing out from sheer physical exhaustion this time, he felt the full force of the machine activating. Thousands of needles pierced his flesh simultaneously, sending a sharp, stinging jolt through his nervous system. Once the system calibrated his brainwaves, his consciousness faded .

He fell into a deep trance and opened his eyes to find himself back in that vast, simulated world.

Except this time, he wasn’t standing in the endless valley or the sterile white room. He was standing right inside the exact same gym he had just left. A mannequin resembling Stephen was standing near the desk, waving at him in a stiff, welcoming gesture. But the figure had no soul; its blank face simply stared out into nothingness.

A terrible premonition hit Alexander’s chest just a second before a high-caliber bullet shattered the front glass.

His reaction was instantaneous. He threw his body onto the concrete floor dodging a heavy barrage of automatic gunfire that chewed up the reception desk. He scrambled up, sprinting deeper into the gym and using the heavy workout equipment as shields while metal splinters and sparks flew everywhere.

"Shit, shit, shit...!" muttered Alexander, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He was being pushed to the limit of his ingenuity. He had no weapons on him. If this simulation was based on the layout of the actual city, he knew a few underground locations where he could secure a firearm, but he had to get out of the gym first.

Alexander took a deep breath, waited for a brief lull in the firing, and broke into a full sprint toward the back exit. He burst out into the parking lot and his eyes locked onto his silver Tahoe sitting in its usual spot.

"No way," whispered Alexander, his mind racing as he sprinted toward the driver’s side. "Is it really simulated too?"

Before he could grab the handle, a fresh wave of bullets rained down, peppering the side of the vehicle. The heavy thuds echoed loudly, but the glass didn’t shatter—the armoring was real. Alexander wrenched the door open, threw himself into the seat, and cranked the engine.

He slammed his foot on the gas, the engine roaring as the Tahoe tore out of the parking lot, escaping the immediate ambush. But as he swung the truck onto the main avenue, the headlights of several heavily armored SUVs flashed in his rearview mirror, instantly giving chase.

The armored SUVs gained on him, their high beams blinding him through the mirrors as muzzle flashes lit up the dark avenue. Bullets slammed into the rear window of the Tahoe, leaving heavy, spiderweb cracks but failing to pierce the thick glass. There wasn’t a single soul on the roads. It was a complete ghost town, leaving him with nowhere to blend in and no traffic to cut through.

Alexander kept one hand firmly on the wheel, dodging a sudden maneuver from the lead SUV, while his other hand tore open the center console and reached under the passenger seat. His fingers wrapped around cold metal.

He pulled them out. All of his personal weapons were exactly where he kept them.

"Shit, how the fuck do they know how many weapons and bullets I have?" muttered Alexander, his jaw clenching as he checked the magazines.

His assault rifle was fully loaded, but when he snapped open the chamber of his handgun, his blood ran cold. The pistol contained exactly seven out of its twelve rounds. He hadn’t reloaded it after the mission a few hours ago, meaning it was missing five bullets—and this simulation knew it down to the last casing.

"What the fuck is going on here?" asked Alexander, his eyes darting from the dashboard to the rearview mirror as another heavy impact rattled the frame of his truck.

The machine wasn’t just simulating a random tactical scenario; it was reading his real-world status in real-time.