Thanks to Richard's careful explanation, Katherine finally came to terms with her identity. In the process, Richard also learned why she had been in the area in the first place.
Katherine was a university student working as an intern at a local newspaper. Bold and curious, she had heard about the chaos in the old district and, incredibly, decided to come investigate and photograph the area for a possible exposé. By sheer luck—or recklessness—she had managed to capture photographic evidence of the Hungry Wolves gang's illegal activities.
Unsurprisingly, the gang found out.
They immediately tried to capture her to silence her. What they didn't expect was that the attempt would trigger the awakening of her banshee bloodline—and everything that followed.
One of the gang's lieutenants and six of their enforcers ended up dead.
The Hungry Wolves were now in a frenzy, acting out with growing desperation. But that wasn't just rage—it was fear. They needed to appear strong. If the other gangs sensed weakness, they'd descend like vultures and tear them apart.
---
Night fell.
Richard instructed Katherine to stay in the apartment and rest. He changed clothes and stepped out into the dusky streets, where gang members still loitered and patrolled in small groups.
He slipped into a shadowed alley and, spotting an isolated thug, lunged forward with inhuman speed. One arm reached out like a striking ape, seizing the man by the throat and dragging him into the dark.
After knocking him unconscious and splashing water to rouse him, Richard cast a Suggestion spell and began his interrogation.
"Which gang are you with?"
"The Hungry Wolves," the man answered without hesitation.
"Where's your boss?"
"At Icefire Bar."
These small-time gangs had no real security protocols. Their foot soldiers lacked loyalty, and Richard had no trouble getting the bar's location, a rough layout of the interior, and a description of the boss.
Satisfied, he knocked the thug out again and set off.
In America, only high-end neighborhoods had consistent surveillance. Places like the old district were basically off the grid, and none of the gang members hunting for enemies had seen his face. No one was looking for him.
Richard arrived at Icefire Bar, but didn't enter through the front. He circled around to the back entrance and slipped in quietly—his goal was simple: eliminate the boss.
In gangs like this, once the leader fell, chaos would erupt. The rest would turn on each other for power, or simply get absorbed by another group.
---
Picking the lock with ease, Richard stepped into the building.
The third floor was sealed off from customers. It served as the personal den of the gang boss—Kurtz, also known by his street name, the Hungry Wolf. With the gang still in disarray from the recent raid, there weren't many people inside.
Just as Richard reached the third floor, fate played a hand.
He turned a corner—and walked straight into a group of about a dozen enforcers coming the other way.
For a moment, everyone paused.
Richard smiled politely, if a little awkwardly. "Is your boss around?"
"Get him!" the lead thug shouted.
Without another word, he swung a metal baton at Richard's head.
Richard didn't flinch. He raised a hand and caught the weapon mid-air, effortlessly twisting it from the man's grip.
The thug stared in disbelief. Where the hell did my stick go?
Before he could react, Richard brought the baton down squarely on his head. Blood splattered from his now-shiny skull. The other gangsters rushed in, but the narrow hallway only allowed three or four to attack at once.
Richard moved like a storm. Wielding the baton like a warhammer, he cut through them in a brutal blur. Cries of pain filled the corridor as limbs and skulls were battered. In under a minute, the hallway was littered with bodies—some unconscious, others less fortunate.
Without pause, Richard silenced the survivors with precision. Then he noticed a security camera watching from the corner of the ceiling. With one swift swing, he shattered it.
---
Inside the boss's office, Kurtz had seen everything unfold on the monitors.
"Holy sh*t... Who the hell is this guy?!" he blurted in terror.
The men around him looked equally stunned. "Boss, what if we can't stop him?"
"You all have guns, don't you?" Kurtz snapped. "I don't care how strong he is—he's not bulletproof. Just shoot him down the moment he walks in!"
He yanked open a drawer and pulled out his own pistol.
---
Meanwhile, outside the office, Richard hefted one of the unconscious gang members and approached the final door.
Without hesitation, he threw the body at it.
The instant the door cracked open, a storm of gunfire erupted.
Bullets shredded the body mid-air. It hadn't even hit the ground before it was reduced to pulp. Inside, the shooters were frantic, unloading every bullet they had—desperate to take down what they thought was a monster.
But as the smoke cleared and the corpse slumped to the floor, realization dawned.
They had just emptied their magazines on their own man.
"Sh*t—reload!" someone shouted. Panic spread as they scrambled to change clips, hands fumbling with trembling fingers.
But Richard had no intention of giving them the chance.
He stepped through the door and emptied his own stolen clip into the room.
The gunfire ended quickly—and permanently.
---
Richard entered the room, confirming all hostiles were dead before beginning his sweep. First, he pulled the surveillance hard drive. Then he searched the office and quickly found a safe.
It was locked, but the key taken from Kurtz slid in smoothly. To his surprise, the lock turned without resistance—no security code, no misdirection. Just convenience.
Inside were twenty to thirty bundles of cash, several passports and firearms, and beneath them, gold bars, thick gold chains, and other valuables—totaling at least several hundred thousand dollars.
Richard stuffed the cash and gold into a backpack without hesitation.
More funds for his future floating city.
The firearms, he left behind. But among the other documents, he found drug ledgers, property titles, and other evidence clearly showing Kurtz had been preparing for a possible escape.
Richard took those as well. Another blessing from nature.
---
With his loot secured, Richard exited Icefire Bar. The building was eerily silent now. The earlier firefight had sent everyone fleeing—customers, bartenders, low-level gangsters.
As for the rest of the gang? Upon seeing the pile of bodies inside, they scattered like rats. The idea of dying for a gang that paid them barely enough to live wasn't exactly appealing.
"How much are they paying you? Worth dying for?" Richard muttered to no one in particular.
Let the dust settle. The survivors could join another gang later.
He was done here.