Chapter 359: Ruining the Rugs

Rick lay flat on his back in the centre of the ruined silk sheets. He was completely naked, his muscular body slick with sweat, blood, and the lingering fluids from his brutal session with the two women.

He didn’t move. He just glared at the massive eighty-inch flat-screen TV mounted on the far wall.

The grey static had cleared, revealing the dark, distorted silhouette of a man sitting behind a desk. The Corporate Oversight Director. The digital, metallic voice had just finished demanding his attention.

Rick let out a loud, highly annoyed sigh.

"You have terrible fucking timing," Rick said loudly into the empty master suite. He knew the TV’s built-in microphone was picking up every word. "I just finished tearing these two apart, and I was about to take a nap. What do you want?"

The shadowy figure on the screen remained perfectly still. "I want the Precursor Core, Smith. You stole it from the Warner vault. My patience is non-existent. Hand it over, or I will turn your newly acquired property into a crater."

Rick laughed. It was a cold, arrogant sound.

He didn’t sit up. Instead, he reached over to his left. He grabbed a massive, rough handful of Victoria Warner’s bare right breast. He squeezed the heavy, soft flesh brutally, kneading it like dough.

"Ah!" Victoria let out a surprised, wet moan. She was lying naked beside him, her platinum blonde hair a tangled mess on the pillows.

Rick pinched her hard nipple between his calloused fingers, twisting it sharply. Victoria’s hips jerked on the mattress, her ice-blue eyes dilating with submissive lust.

"You’re a bit late to the party, pal," Rick said, keeping his eyes on the screen while he aggressively played with the crime boss’s tit. "I don’t have the Core anymore. I traded it."

The distorted voice on the TV crackled. "You are lying. Who could possibly offer you fair market value for a limitless energy source?"

"A military arms dealer in the Alps," Rick smirked. "I traded it for a custom hypersonic jet and a really nice watch. Best deal of my life. So, if you want your glowing battery back, you’ll have to take it up with him."

The shadow on the screen leaned forward. The silence stretched for three long seconds.

"You think you can play games with me?" the Director hissed, his metallic voice pitching up in genuine anger. "You think you are untouchable because you killed Agent X? You are nothing but a common thug, Smith. Let me show you what happens when you cross Corporate Oversight."

The screen flickered violently.

The image of the shadow man vanished. It was instantly replaced by a high-definition, live-feed camera view.

It was the front yard of Rick’s new Diamond District compound.

The heavy iron gates were blown completely off their hinges, lying twisted on the paved driveway. At least twenty Warner family guards were scattered across the manicured lawns. They were all dead. Their bodies were torn apart, the grass painted dark red with fresh blood.

Standing in the absolute centre of the carnage was a single man.

He was massive, wearing a heavy, tactical trench coat covered in reinforced Kevlar plating. He held a massive, custom-built thermal battle rifle in his hands. The man lifted his head, looking directly into one of the compound’s security cameras.

His face was heavily scarred, the left side of his jaw replaced with jagged, shiny cybernetics.

It was The Huntsman.

"Well, well," Rick muttered, pulling his hand off Victoria’s breast. "The roach survived the boot."

The Huntsman had barely survived the gravity well explosion back at the chateau in the Alps. Now, he was working for Oversight.

The TV speakers crackled as The Huntsman’s deep, gravelly voice echoed through the bedroom.

"I told you I’d find you, Smith," The Huntsman growled, blood dripping from the barrel of his massive rifle. "My new employers pay a lot better than the Warners ever did. I’m going to walk into that house, rip your limbs off one by one, and mount your head on a spike on the front lawn."

Rick didn’t flinch. The threat bored him.

Rick reached out to his right. He grabbed a thick handful of Rachel Williams’s auburn hair. The doctor was lying on her stomach, her bare ass completely exposed, panting softly. Rick yanked her head up violently.

"Ouch! Rick!" Rachel yelped.

"Get to work, Doc," Rick commanded crudely. He shoved her face down directly over his groin. "Suck it."

Rachel didn’t hesitate. Her professional boundaries were completely gone. She opened her mouth and eagerly took his semi-flaccid cock inside, swirling her hot tongue around the head to get him hard again. Loud, wet slurping sounds echoed in the quiet room.

Rick looked back at the massive TV screen. He gave The Huntsman a lazy, mocking smile.

"You look like shit, Huntsman," Rick insulted him flatly. "That metal jaw makes you look like a cheap tin can. Did you really come all the way to my house just to get your ass beat a second time? You’re a terribly sore loser."

The Huntsman’s one good eye twitched with absolute, unfiltered rage. He raised his massive rifle and aimed it at the camera.

"Breach the house," The Huntsman ordered over his radio. "Kill the women. Bring Smith to me alive."

The screen went black as the security camera was shot out.

Two seconds later, a massive explosion rocked the foundation of the mansion.

BOOM!

The floorboards in the master suite vibrated. The sound of shattering glass, splintering wood, and heavy assault rifle fire erupted from the first floor. The alarms of the multi-million-dollar estate started blaring loudly.

Rick groaned in pure annoyance. He pulled his thick, dripping cock out of Rachel’s mouth.

"Stay exactly where you are," Rick ordered both women. "Do not put your clothes on. Do not leave this bed. I am going to deal with this property damage, and when I come back, I expect you both to be dripping wet and ready for round three. Understand?"

"Yes, Rick," Victoria breathed heavily, crossing her bare legs on the silk sheets.

"We’ll wait right here," Rachel whimpered, licking a drop of his pre-cum off her lips.

Rick slid off the edge of the tall mattress. His bare feet hit the thick, pristine white carpet. He walked over to the armchair where he had tossed his clothes earlier. His shirt was ruined, entirely soaked in blood.

He didn’t bother with it. He grabbed his dark, tailored slacks and pulled them on over his muscular legs. He didn’t put on underwear. He didn’t put on shoes. He zipped the trousers up and left the belt hanging loose.

He stood there, half-naked, his chest bare and covered in faint bruises and old scars.

He closed his eyes for a split second.

[System Shop Opened.]

’I need a crowd pleaser,’ Rick thought. ’Something messy.’

He scrolled through the heavy weapons tab rapidly. He didn’t care about stealth right now. He wanted absolute, raw destruction to punish them for waking him up.

[Item Purchased: AA-12 Auto Assault Shotgun with 32-Round Drum Magazine.] [Ammunition Type: 12-Gauge Buckshot.] [Cost: $4,500.]

[Item Purchased: Carbon Steel Combat Machete.] [Cost: $300.] [Total Funds Deducted: $4,800.]

Rick opened his eyes. The heavy, matte-black automatic shotgun materialised in his right hand. It weighed twelve pounds, but to Rick’s System-enhanced muscles, it felt like a toy. He grabbed the long, curved machete with his left hand and hooked the sheath onto his loose belt.

He cracked his neck left, then right.

"Time to clean house," Rick muttered.

Rick walked out of the master suite and stepped into the massive, luxurious second-floor hallway. The walls were lined with vintage, hand-painted wallpaper and expensive oil paintings. The floor was covered with a custom, cream-coloured Persian rug that cost more than most people made in a decade.

He had barely taken three steps when the massive floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the hall violently shattered inward.

CRASH!

Four heavy, steel grappling hooks smashed through the glass, digging deep into the expensive mahogany window frames.

Four Corporate Oversight mercenaries in full, heavy tactical armour swung through the broken windows on thick black ropes. They landed perfectly on the Persian rug, their boots crunching on the broken glass. They raised their suppressed submachine guns, their red laser sights slicing through the dusty air.

"Target acquired on the second floor!" the lead merc yelled into his radio. "Engaging!"