Chapter 46: A Ford Mustang & Dom's Efficiency
January 11
It took Hunter a while to process what had just happened after leaving Dom's place.
"So... I passed the test?"
He looked down at the key in his hand. It was for a Ford.
Having worked at the garage, Hunter knew Dom's fleet well.
Dom owned several cars, mostly bought with the proceeds from the highway heists over the last few years.
His favorite, of course, was the 1970 Dodge Charger R/T he inherited from his father.
He had dumped hundreds of thousands of dollars into that beast, rebuilding and upgrading it multiple times. He had turned a decades-old muscle car into one of the highest-performance vehicles on the West Coast, capable of smoking million-dollar supercars in a straight line.
Aside from the Charger, Dom had about six other cars: Ford, Chevy, Volkswagen, Toyota, Honda, Mazda.
None were luxury exotics. Just standard coupes and sedans.
But Dom had modified every single one of them.
The key Hunter held likely belonged to the Ford Mustang.
Hunter knew the car. Or rather, his predecessor did.
It was a 4th Generation Ford Mustang (2001).
While purists debated whether the 4th gen was a "true" muscle car, it had the Mustang DNA: big displacement, high horsepower, and aggressive styling.
Dom had bought the coupe version and spent at least $100,000 modifying it.
In the US, where cars were cheap, $100k was enough to buy a base model Ferrari Roma. Spending that on a Mustang meant it was a monster.
"If it's really the Mustang, Dom is being incredibly generous."
Hunter hadn't expected his first car in this life to be a gift.
But thinking about it, he accepted it without guilt.
Dom wasn't stupid. That bald head held a sharp mind. The car was payment for intelligence that could save his "Family" from prison or worse.
Hunter found a secluded spot, pulled his motorcycle out of his Inventory, and rode to the garage warehouse.
It was locked for the night.
No problem.
Hunter's Lockpicking was Level 2.
He pulled out his lockpicking kit. The warehouse lock was simple. A few seconds later, the door clicked open.
Inside, he found it immediately.
The Ford Mustang.
He unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat.
As he turned the key, the engine roared to life with a deep, throaty rumble.
The moment his hands touched the steering wheel, a feeling of absolute control washed over him.
[Driving Lv 4] was no joke.
When he leveled up, his brain had been flooded with techniques—drifting, cornering, engine management.
Hunter had driven in his past life, but this was different. He wasn't just driving; he was communing with the machine.
Vroom!
The modified engine purred like a predatory cat.
Hunter skillfully steered the car out of the warehouse with one hand, locked up behind him, and vanished into the night.
The next day, still no calls from Old Parker or Charlie Croker.
Hunter spent a few hours grinding at the Boxing Club and Shooting Range, then went fishing and swimming at the beach.
As evening approached, he grabbed a new compact camera.
He stealthily tailed Brian as he left the parts shop.
He snapped photos of Brian loitering near Mia's cafe.
Then, he got lucky.
To his surprise, on the very first night of tailing him, Brian drove straight to the FBI Field Office.
Hunter captured clear shots of Brian entering the building.
That was the smoking gun.
Hunter knew Dom already believed him, but Dom needed concrete proof to convince his crew.
The "Family" wouldn't stop the heists just on a hunch. They needed to see the heat. If one of them went rogue because they didn't believe the danger, they could bring everyone down.
Hunter got the photos developed in Chinatown.
He planned to wait a couple of days before delivering them to build suspense.
But on the third day, his phone rang at noon.
It was Dom.
His cold, deep voice cut straight to the chase.
"I found the woman you're looking for."
Chapter 47: Meeting Dom Again
January 11
"You found her already?"
"Okay, I'm coming over."
"I actually found something too. I was planning to bring it to you."
Dom's efficiency was higher than Hunter expected.
Hunter knew Dom had deep connections in the West Coast underground racing scene, so checking on a local locksmith company would be easier for him.
But this was fast.
After hanging up, Hunter rode his bike straight to the Toretto house.
He had originally planned to wait a few days before handing over the proof of Brian's FBI status.
He figured his warning alone would be enough to make Dom pause the heists for a while. Without caught-in-the-act evidence, the FBI couldn't do much.
But since Dom had delivered, Hunter would too.
Hunter arrived at the house.
He scanned the perimeter cautiously, just like last time.
Seeing no anomalies, he knocked.
Dom opened the door quickly.
Perhaps because of their previous deal, the big man's face was less hostile this time. The coldness was still there, but the animosity had faded.
"Come in."
Dom stepped aside.
With his stats nearly double that of a normal human, Hunter's senses were sharp.
Even in this creaky wooden house, he picked up a faint sound and a scent distinct from Dom's musk.
A woman was hiding somewhere in the house.
"Beer?"
This time, Hunter got the VIP treatment.
Dom opened the fridge and handed him a Budweiser.
"Thanks."
Hunter took a swig, then placed the manila envelope on the coffee table.
"Here. The proof you asked for."
Dom didn't hesitate. He tore open the envelope.
As he flipped through the photos, his stoic face darkened visibly.
When he reached a specific photo, his grip tightened so hard that veins popped on the back of his hand. The photo crinkled under the pressure.
"Thanks."
After a long silence, Dom tossed the envelope back onto the table.
He looked at Hunter and thanked him solemnly.
Dom now fully believed the warning.
The FBI was watching.
Dom knew his crew's habits. They were reckless. Gambling, drugs, illegal racing. All expensive vices.
Despite stealing millions in electronics from truckers over the years, none of them had savings. They spent it as fast as they stole it.
Even Letty, the most level-headed one, had eventually succumbed to the lifestyle because Dom was confident they wouldn't get caught.
But now, the bubble had burst.
Dom needed this evidence to convince his crew to stop. Without it, they—addicted to the easy money—might have ignored him or gone rogue, exposing everyone.
Even Dom himself had been secretly hoping Hunter was wrong so the money train could keep rolling.
Now, that hope was dead.
Hunter didn't care about Dom's internal conflict.
Since realizing this world wasn't just Fast & Furious, his interest in joining the "Family" had evaporated. He was only helping Dom for Mia's sake.
"Dom, I've got other things to do," Hunter said, breaking the silence.
"Can I get Stella Bridger's info?"
Dom looked at him for a moment, then pulled a slip of paper from his pocket.
Hunter unfolded it.
Just a single address.
He looked up, but Dom offered no further explanation.
Hunter nodded, finished his beer in one gulp, and stood up to leave.
As he walked out the door, he felt eyes on him.
From the second floor.
He glanced up and saw a figure vanish from the window.
"Mia?"
He couldn't be sure. He paused for a moment, then shook his head and left.
Inside, Letty walked into the living room after the front door closed.
Seeing Dom sitting on the sofa in silence, staring at a beer, she asked, "Dom? Is it confirmed?"
Dom didn't speak. He just pointed at the manila envelope.
Letty picked it up. A few photos in, her face went pale.
Brian lurking near the cafe. Brian entering the FBI building.
It was undeniable. He was a fed.
Hunter's warning was real.
They had to face reality: The FBI was hunting them.
Now they had a choice.
Stop and lay low?
Liquidate the last shipment and flee the country?
Or pull one last, insane job before the net closed?
Silence filled the room as they weighed their fate.
Chapter 48: Stalking Stella
January 11
Early the next morning, Hunter followed the address Dom had given him.
The destination was in one of the busiest districts of Los Angeles, less than three kilometers from South Coast Plaza.
Hunter rode his motorcycle through the crowded streets.
This was his first time venturing into downtown LA since his reincarnation. He had been too busy grinding skills at the beach or the clubs to visit the tourist traps like Hollywood or the city center.
But he didn't regret it.
His System was a once-in-a-lifetime gift. A little hard work now meant he could be a god later. Once his skills were maxed out, he could play however he wanted.
After winding through the streets for a while, he found it.
A three-story building facing the street in the commercial district.
Bridger Locksmith Co.
Hunter looked up. Surrounded by branded retail stores, the locksmith shop seemed unassuming.
But owning a storefront in this prime location meant Stella was making serious money.
Hunter unwrapped a stick of gum, popped it into his mouth, and leaned back on his parked motorcycle, watching the entrance.
This had to be Stella Bridger's company.
The blonde beauty was the daughter of John Bridger, a master safecracker and Charlie Croker's old friend.
John Bridger had an uncanny talent for locks. From ancient Chinese mechanisms to modern digital vaults, nothing could keep him out for more than a few minutes.
Eighteen months ago, John and Charlie had pulled off a legendary heist in Venice, stealing a ton of gold bullion from Italian gangsters.
It would have been the perfect crime if Steve, the traitor, hadn't betrayed them.
Stella inherited her father's gift. She was a prodigy.
But because her father had spent so much of her childhood in prison, she chose a different path. Instead of becoming a thief, she opened a legitimate business, helping the police and banks test their security.
She likely resented Charlie Croker.
Her father had been ready to retire. Charlie convinced him to do "one last job," and it got him killed.
In the Italian Job movie, she eventually agrees to help Charlie steal the gold back from Steve—not for greed, but for revenge.
Oddly, her idea of revenge was just stealing the gold, not killing Steve. Hunter found this western "moral high ground" confusing. In his book, a blood debt required blood payment.
But he didn't need to understand her philosophy to learn from her.
And if he got a chance to... get to know the blonde beauty better? He wouldn't say no.
Hunter waited for over two hours.
Finally, a woman walked out.
Stella Bridger.
She got into a small car parked nearby—a MINI Cooper.
In the US, cars like the MINI were cheap, costing around $15,000 for the base model. Their small size made them perfect for navigating LA traffic and finding parking, making them popular with urban professionals.
It was one of BMW's best-selling models in the States.
Hunter grinned. Target confirmed.
He didn't approach her yet. He had no leverage to make her teach him.
Instead, he decided to tail her.
His goal wasn't just to learn lockpicking; it was to find Steve.
In the movie, Charlie uses Stella to get to Steve. Hunter planned to cut out the middleman.
Even if Steve had sold some of the gold, most of that one ton haul should still be sitting in his vault.
For the next few days, Hunter became Stella's shadow.
He used his [Disguise] skill constantly, changing his clothes, hair, and even skin tone.
He leveled up [Intel Gathering], [Disguise], [Surveillance], [Acting], and [Driving] simultaneously while trailing her.
Four days later, his patience paid off.
Stella led him; unknowingly; straight to Steve's fortress.
Chapter 49: Steve's Villa
January 11
Around noon, Hunter was hiding carefully in the branches of a large tree.
His motorcycle was already stashed in his Inventory.
Thanks to his Inventory, he had been able to stalk Stella for days without being detected. With his amateur tracking skills, he would have been caught long ago otherwise.
He raised his new binoculars and pushed aside the leaves.
He focused on a vehicle parked about twenty meters away.
It was the Dodge Ram 3500 Van—the one he had modified himself.
There were at least two people inside. Maybe more.
But Hunter was certain of two: Charlie Croker and Stella Bridger.
They were observing a massive villa dozens of meters away.
That had to be Steve's fortress.
"Finally found it."
Steve's villa was located northwest of LA, about twenty kilometers from Hollywood.
It was an upscale residential area, forty to fifty kilometers from downtown.
Nestled against the mountains and overlooking the ocean, it was prime real estate. Top five in the greater LA area.
Most villas here started at several million dollars.
In contrast, Hunter's predecessor's parents had worked for decades to buy an apartment worth just over $100,000. And the inheritance tax alone would cost Hunter $70,000 to keep it.
He had never planned to pay that tax. He'd rather buy a new place when he got rich.
Charlie and Stella observed the villa for a while, then drove off.
Hunter didn't follow them. He stayed behind to study the target.
"I know where he lives now."
"Next step: How to get in."
"And how to get the gold out."
With his Inventory, getting the gold out was easy.
He didn't need Stella's lockpicking skills to crack the safe on-site. His Inventory was now the size of half a room (54 cubic meters).
He could just touch the safe, store the whole thing, and walk away. He could crack it open at his leisure later.
His only problem was infiltration.
Steve's villa was a fortress.
It sat halfway up the mountain, surrounded by dense vegetation, providing excellent cover—for defenders.
Armed guards patrolled the perimeter 24/7.
High walls topped with electrified razor wire encircled the property.
Two vicious American Bullies roamed the grounds.
Hunter didn't know if there were internal sensors or cameras.
"Paranoid bastard."
"He's expecting Charlie."
Steve had betrayed Charlie's crew over a year ago, killing John Bridger. But since he only saw John's body and the others fell into the icy lake, he likely suspected they survived.
Even after all this time, he was still waiting for their revenge.
Hunter climbed down from the tree after Charlie left and began to circle the property, looking for weaknesses.
Charlie had a team. They had Lyle, a top-tier hacker who could shut down LA's traffic grid, tap Steve's phone, and loop his security cameras. Getting in was easy for them. Their problem was moving a ton of gold while escaping Steve.
Hunter had the opposite problem.
Moving the gold was trivial. Getting in alone, without a hacker or backup, was the nightmare.
But luck was on his side.
After circling the mountain for hours, he found a path.
Steve's villa was surrounded by electrified walls on three sides.
But there was a gap of about ten meters on the side facing a sheer cliff.
The cliff dropped forty to fifty meters straight down.
Hunter went to the bottom of the cliff to inspect it.
It was nearly vertical. 90 degrees. Bare rock with only a few patches of weeds.
If he could climb this, he would emerge less than twenty meters from the villa itself.
The guard dogs and the main gate were over two hundred meters away on the other side.
Climbing from here would bypass the electric fence, the gate guards, and the dogs.
The only variables left were the internal guards and Steve himself.
"This is the safest route."
"The only problem is... how the hell do I climb a 50-meter vertical cliff?"
Hunter looked up at the daunting rock face.
He needed to figure this out.
Chapter 50: Two Weeks, Preparing for Action
January 11
The cliff bordering Steve's villa was nearly vertical—a sheer ninety-degree drop.
There were barely any protruding rocks or trees to anchor a rope.
Climbing it would be a nightmare.
Clearly, Steve had studied the terrain carefully before buying this place. Even a professional climber would struggle to scale this wall without safety gear. And Charlie's team didn't have anyone with that kind of physical prowess.
If they did, a paranoid man like Steve wouldn't have left this one side exposed without electric fences or walls.
Hunter stood at the base of the cliff, frowning as he looked up.
Even with his "Golden Finger" and stats nearly double that of a normal human, and even with his newly acquired [Climbing] skill, this cliff made his scalp tingle.
Fifty meters of vertical rock. No safety net.
One slip meant death, or at best, permanent paralysis.
But the alternative was worse. The other three sides were guarded by three-meter walls, high-voltage nets, cameras, and armed men.
Charlie's team would need elaborate plans and tech to breach the front. Hunter couldn't do that solo.
The cliff was the only way.
"Looks like I need to grind my Climbing skill."
"And boost my stats while I'm at it."
For the next two weeks, Hunter was a machine.
Charlie remained passive, only occasionally scouting the villa with Stella. Once, Hunter even saw Lyle (the hacker) and Left Ear (the demolition expert) tagging along.
The legendary thieves were still scratching their heads over Steve's defenses.
Their hesitation bought Hunter time.
Every morning and night: One hour of running.
Daytime:
Disguised surveillance of Steve.
Stalking Stella for intel.
"Accidentally" bumping into Lyle to chat and boost [Computer Science].
Boxing, Shooting, Swimming.
But his main focus was [Climbing].
Two weeks flew by.
Several skills leveled up. Hunter earned another 17 Free Attribute Points.
He distributed them evenly.
[Current Stats]
Intelligence: 23
Strength: 21
Agility: 21
Constitution: 20
Endurance: 20
All five attributes were now more than double the average adult male's.
His Personal Inventory had expanded to 71 cubic meters.
He was becoming a monster.
But with power came anxiety.
As his skills leveled up, the EXP required for the next level skyrocketed.
And it was expensive.
Aside from a $5,000 chop-shop job Old Parker threw his way, Hunter had zero income.
Living in LA, grinding skills, buying gear... his savings were evaporating.
In a capitalist paradise like America, being broke was a sin.
If he didn't secure Steve's gold soon, the great "Transmigrator" would have to go flip burgers.
"Time to go."
8:00 PM. The apartment.
Hunter finished a hearty dinner.
He checked his climbing gear one last time before storing it in his Inventory. Every tool was inspected.
He was nervous. Excited. This was his first major heist.
He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
His expression shifted instantly.
Standing in the corridor of the sixth floor were two burly white men in leather jackets.
Tattoos on their arms. Cold, predatory eyes.
Gangsters.
They glanced at Hunter as he emerged from 6A, then looked away, dismissing him.
But Hunter felt another gaze.
Léon?
The sixth floor had four units.
6A: Hunter.
6B: An elderly couple.
6C: Mathilda's family.
6D: Léon.
The hitman rarely left his apartment. Hunter had tried to say hello a few times, but Léon only responded with a nod and a cold stare.
Hunter realized Léon was watching the gangsters through his peephole.
Hunter didn't react. He kept his cool.
With his enhanced hearing, he could hear faint noises coming from Mathilda's apartment (6C).
Something was going down.
Chapter 51: Cliff Climbing in the Rain
January 11
"...This is Stan's stash. Keep it here for now."
"We'll come back for it when the heat dies down."
"Remember, keep your mouth shut."
It was a stern voice, speaking English with a proficiency Hunter was now very familiar with.
But there was a distinct Italian accent.
Living in this neighborhood for a while, Hunter had interacted with plenty of Italian immigrants. Their accent, like the French and Japanese, was distinctive and easy to recognize.
Soon, another man's voice came through the thin walls.
"Paul, you know me!"
"I always handle your business seriously."
That was Mathilda's father. A sleazy, greedy, middle-aged white man.
A low-level gangster and, apparently, a DEA informant.
The plot of Léon: The Professional kicked off because this man got greedy. He skimmed drugs from Norman Stansfield, a corrupt DEA agent ("Stan"), who was stashing his supply here.
Because of his greed, he would soon get himself, his wife, his stepdaughter, and his young son killed.
Mathilda would be the only survivor, escaping by the skin of her teeth.
Hunter didn't like the man, but he didn't hate him either.
Why? Because the guy was never home.
And his wife—Mathilda's stepmother—was... exceptional. Very hospitable. Very moist. Hunter had verified this personally.
"Stansfield is stashing drugs at Mathilda's place?"
"Looks like the Léon plot will kick off in a month, tops."
Hunter hadn't decided if he would intervene.
He chatted with Mathilda occasionally, but they weren't close. Ever since she saw her stepmom leaving Hunter's apartment with messy hair a while back, the kid had been giving him the cold shoulder.
Whatever. She was just a brat.
If this were the adult Lady Thor, he'd be all over her. But right now? No thanks. He wasn't a pedo.
Still, if he could save her family... maybe he would.
Her stepmom was too good a "training partner" to lose. She was the reason his [Reproduction] skill was pushing Level 4.
If she died, he'd be mourning the loss of a great asset.
Thoughts raced through his mind, but he pushed them aside.
It was raining outside.
Perfect.
Hunter went downstairs calmly. He found a secluded, camera-free street, pulled out his modified motorcycle, and rode towards Steve's villa, sixty kilometers away.
An hour later, after a detour and a disguise change, he arrived at the base of the cliff in the pouring rain.
He looked up. The cliff seemed to pierce the clouds.
Worried about being spotted, he only brought cheap glow sticks instead of a flashlight.
But with his enhanced senses (double that of a normal human), the faint green glow was enough.
He approached the rock face.
From his Inventory, he pulled out pitons, carabiners, and a hammer.
He had already mapped out a route during his scouting trips.
He began to hammer the pitons into the rock, creating a path upwards. He also set anchors for a rappel line, ensuring he could descend from the villa in seconds once the job was done.
Hammering metal into rock is loud.
But Hunter was prepared. He had wrapped the hammer head in thick cloth.
Combined with the sound of the rain, the noise was dampened enough to avoid alerting Steve or the guards above.
It was grueling work.
Climbing a wet cliff while hammering pitons from the bottom up was a nightmare.
Even with his mapped route, some rocks cracked or crumbled under the hammer.
Despite his caution, it was messy.
He worked for seven or eight hours.
As dawn approached, Hunter drove the final piton into a large rock at the top of the cliff.
"Phew!"
He rappelled down quickly using the rope he had just installed.
Then, he climbed back up.
He needed to test the route's safety.
Over the past two weeks, he had poured effort into his [Climbing] skill.
He had taken lessons at a gym and practiced on coastal rocks.
His [Climbing] was now Level 3.
With the pitons in place, scaling the fifty-meter cliff was almost easy.
Hunter moved like a monkey, nimble and fast.
Minutes later, he reached the top.
He peeked over the edge.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, mixing with the rain, but he grinned.
"Success."
He rappelled back down one last time.
Exhausted, he decided not to push his luck.
He would go home, rest, and recover his stamina.
The gold heist would happen tomorrow night.
Using a special technique, he retrieved his rope from the bottom, looked up at the cliff one last time, and vanished into the rain.
Chapter 52: Mission Start
January 11
Hunter slept soundly until 1:00 PM.
He woke up, drenched in sweat from the summer heat, and took a shower. June in LA was getting hotter by the day.
Freshly cleaned, he was about to make lunch when a knock echoed through the apartment.
Surprised, he opened the door.
Standing there was his "Good Neighbor," Maggie, dressed in a revealing outfit that left little to the imagination.
"Hi!"
She greeted him enthusiastically, her eyes practically devouring him.
Hunter felt a surge of pride. His looks were top-tier, and his physique, enhanced by his maxed-out stats, was nearly perfect.
Unlike Dom, whose muscle mass was intimidatingly bulky, Hunter's build was lean, proportionate, and aesthetically flawless. When he took his shirt off, few women could resist.
And it wasn't just for show.
Ever since Maggie first came over to complain about the noise, every visit ended with her needing to support herself against the wall just to walk home. She would collapse into bed and sleep for hours.
Hunter smiled.
"Hi."
Thanks to her, his [Reproduction] skill was now Level 4. He never turned away a dedicated training partner.
"Aren't you going to invite me in for coffee?"
Maggie's attitude towards her young, handsome, and incredibly capable Asian neighbor was worlds apart from how she treated her sloppy husband.
Hunter saw the fire in her eyes. He smiled knowingly and gestured for her to enter.
She walked in without a second thought.
She didn't notice her stepdaughter, Mathilda, standing in front of their own door, watching them with an expressionless face.
Hunter noticed.
He didn't care. He just nodded politely at the kid and closed the door.
Several hours later.
The door opened again.
Maggie walked out, leaning heavily against the wall. Her face was flushed with satisfaction and exhaustion.
"What a beast..."
"To be young again..."
Her legs were trembling as she shuffled next door. She savored the memory of the past few hours. She knew Hunter was barely eighteen, and the experience had shattered her worldview.
She entered her apartment and saw Mathilda watching TV with her little brother. Her older daughter was nowhere to be seen.
Too tired to care, Maggie barked an order. "TV dinners in the fridge. Make whatever you want. Don't stay up too late."
Too lazy to shower, she went straight to her bedroom.
Her husband had been busy lately—distracted, anxious, and rarely home at night. She wasn't worried about him finding out.
She fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.
"Ah, that hit the spot."
Hunter finished a plate of Kung Pao Chicken and downed a glass of homemade lemon soda.
He burped in satisfaction and walked to the window.
The sky was darkening. The stars were coming out.
"Surprisingly good weather."
Excitement bubbled in his chest.
Last night, he had spent hours in the rain hammering pitons into the cliff below Steve's villa.
Tonight, he would climb that cliff, infiltrate the villa, find the safe, and walk away with a ton of gold.
He was broke. He needed this win.
With the gold, his financial troubles would vanish. He could fund his skill training without worry.
And since Steve stole it from the Italian mafia (after betraying his own crew), Hunter felt zero guilt about stealing it from him.
As for Charlie Croker... well, sorry, bro.
Just as he was feeling a twinge of guilt, his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He answered.
"Hey, pal."
"Got a new job. You in?"
It was Charlie.
After twenty days of silence, he finally called.
Tonight was the night Hunter planned to rob Steve.
Without hesitation, Hunter agreed.
"Sure thing. I'm wrapping up some loose ends right now."
"If it works for you, give me an address. We can talk details tomorrow noon."
Charlie had no idea Hunter knew about Steve. Or the gold. Or that Hunter had been stalking him and Stella for weeks.
Hearing Hunter's quick agreement, Charlie sounded pleased.
"Great. Meet me at the diner tomorrow noon."
"Done."
Hunter hung up, grinning.
"Sorry, Charlie."
"I'm taking the gold."
"I'll settle your grudge with Steve for you."
"As for Stella... let's just say may the best man win."
He left his phone on the table. He didn't want it tracking him or distracting him during the heist.
He checked his gear one last time.
8:00 PM.
Hunter walked out of the apartment. He retrieved his motorcycle from a dark alley and rode toward Steve's villa.
Mission Start.
Chapter 53: Successful Infiltration
January 11
Late at night, at the base of the cliff below Steve's villa.
Hunter fought the urge to light a cigarette.
He looked up. The villa above was pitch black.
Whether the owner was asleep or the angle simply hid the lights, Hunter couldn't tell.
Doesn't matter.
He reached into his Inventory and pulled out a bag of magnesium powder (chalk).
He coated his palms, then slung a climbing rope across his chest.
Finally, he took out two glow sticks—one in his mouth, one in his breast pocket.
He began to climb.
He followed the pitons he had hammered in the night before. As he ascended, he threaded his rope through the carabiners he had pre-installed, creating a secure line for a rapid rappel later.
Without his superhuman strength (double a normal human's), doing this solo would have been nearly impossible.
He moved cautiously.
He was terrified of a guard patrolling the perimeter above.
Ten minutes later, he reached the top without incident.
"Phew."
Hunter exhaled softly. His heart, which had been in his throat, settled back into his chest.
No time to waste.
He didn't know if there were guards inside.
In The Italian Job, Steve; paranoid and trusting no one after betraying Charlie and killing John Bridger, lived alone in this fortress.
But Hunter knew better than to trust the movie blindly.
His presence had already derailed the Fast & Furious plot.
He had checked the parts shop recently. It was trashed. Looted. Brian was gone.
Hunter suspected Dom had handled it.
Brian would never be "family" now. The timeline was broken.
So, Steve might have hired mercenaries for all he knew.
Hunter secured his rope and double-checked the anchor.
He pulled a balaclava from his Inventory and pulled it over his face.
He was already wearing disguise makeup, but you could never be too careful.
He crouched low and crept toward the villa.
Suddenly, he froze.
The System chimed in his head.
[System Notification: New Skill Acquired — Stealth]
[Trigger: Detected host performing covert infiltration.]
Hunter ignored the notification for now.
Steve's villa was riddled with cameras. Most were concentrated at the front gate and along the perimeter walls.
But Steve was a ruthless, calculating survivor.
Hunter doubted he would leave his rear undefended.
As he neared the cliff edge, Hunter stored the glow sticks back into his Inventory.
Total darkness.
He crawled on his belly, hugging the ground.
Four meters from the villa's rear wall, his enhanced hearing picked up a faint mechanical whir.
Servo motor.
He scanned the darkness.
There. A camera mounted on the wall, scanning the backyard.
Hunter scanned again. Another camera covering the blind spot of the first.
"Close call."
He watched them for a minute, timing their rotation cycles.
There was a gap. A small window of opportunity where both cameras faced away.
3... 2... 1...
Hunter exploded from his crouch.
In a single breath, he crossed the gap and pressed his back against the villa wall, right in the blind spot between the two cameras.
"Safe."
He scanned the wall.
His eyes lit up.
Nearby, a ground-level window was slightly ajar.
It looked like a basement vent. Small, but big enough for him to squeeze through.
He waited for the camera cycle again.
Counting down in his head.
Go!
He dashed to the window and slithered inside like a snake.
Chapter 54: Locating the Safe
January 11
"I'm in."
Slipping through the basement vent at the back of the villa, Hunter relied on his superhuman stats (more than double that of a normal person) to enter Steve's stronghold.
The basement was pitch black.
He hung upside down, hooking his feet onto the window ledge, his hands probing the darkness below.
His fingertips touched nothing.
He waited for his eyes to adjust.
The basement ceiling was about three meters high.
It looked like a garage. In the distance, he saw the rectangular outline of a vehicle.
"Height is roughly 2.8 to 3 meters."
"With my current stats, I can drop."
He calculated the distance, released his feet, and fell.
His hands hit the floor first. As gravity tried to slam him down, his arms—packed with explosive power—flexed instantly. He somersaulted and landed silently on his feet.
"Phew."
No time to rest. He crouched and moved behind the vehicle.
Earlier, he had heard the servo motor of a surveillance camera. He scanned the room and spotted it near the garage entrance.
It was pointing away from him.
Safe.
He pulled a glow stick from his Inventory, cracked it just enough to emit a faint light, and inspected his surroundings.
It was a spacious underground garage, about fifty or sixty square meters. Big enough for three or four Chevy Suburbans.
Currently, it housed two cars.
One was a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. A high-performance off-roader. Base price $50,000-$60,000, but often customized with bulletproofing and engine upgrades by the wealthy.
The other was a Bentley Continental GT.
Hunter recognized it immediately. The second generation, produced after Volkswagen acquired Bentley. A luxury grand tourer. Base price $170,000-$180,000. A true rich man's toy.
"Steve knows how to enjoy life," Hunter mused.
Aside from the vehicle ramp, there was a pedestrian door leading into the villa.
Hunter stored the glow stick and approached the door.
Locked.
He frowned, glancing back at the camera. He had to try.
He pulled out his lockpicking kit.
[Lockpicking] was one of his first skills. At Level 1, he could open simple locks with keys to grind EXP.
At Level 2, keys no longer gave EXP, but he could now use professional tools to pick most commercial locks.
He wasn't sure about this one, though.
He inserted the tension wrench and pick. He pressed his ear against the door, utilizing his enhanced hearing.
Click.
The lock wasn't complex.
A few minutes of fiddling, feeling for the pins, and it gave way.
Hunter grinned.
He taped the latch so it wouldn't lock behind him, then pushed the door open.
A short corridor lay ahead.
It was unlit, but his eyes were adjusted.
To one side was a storage room filled with wine racks. Hunter ignored the expensive liquor and kept moving.
At the end of the corridor was a spiral staircase.
He crept up the stairs.
Another door at the top. Unlocked.
He pushed it open.
Jackpot.
He was inside the main villa.
The villa had a massive footprint but only two floors above ground.
It was decorated with antique floors and tiles imported from Europe—a common affectation for American nouveau riche trying to buy culture.
Surprisingly, some lights on the first floor were on.
Hunter tensed.
He moved silently through the ground floor.
In the movie, Steve kept the gold on the first floor because moving a ton of metal upstairs was a logistical nightmare.
Hunter searched the living room, kitchen, laundry room, gym, and study.
No guest rooms. No maid's quarters.
And apparently, no guards.
Steve really was living alone.
But Hunter couldn't find the safe.
He had checked everywhere except one spot: a locked door in the hallway next to the living room.
Based on the villa's layout, the space behind that door should be tiny—maybe three or four square meters. A closet.
Hunter had dismissed it earlier because it was too close to the front entrance.
But after clearing the rest of the floor, it was the only option left.
"Don't tell me he hid a ton of gold in a broom closet."
Hunter approached the unassuming wooden door.
He pulled out his lockpicking tools again.
This lock was even simpler than the garage door.
Click.
He opened the door.
His breathing grew heavy.
Behind the wooden door sat two massive, reinforced steel safes, sitting side by side.
Hunter knew immediately.
He had found Steve's gold.
Chapter 55: Steve's Anxiety
January 11
Late at night, Steve lay in bed.
It was past midnight, but he couldn't sleep.
"Strange. What is this restless feeling?"
"Is something bad about to happen?"
Steve was a veteran. He served in the first Gulf War and was stationed in Haiti.
After being discharged due to injury, he met Charlie.
They worked together for five or six years, hitting drug lords, gangsters, and wealthy targets, netting over $100 million.
Charlie always insisted on splitting the loot evenly.
But easy money corrupted Steve. Greed took root.
It culminated a year ago in Venice. They stole a ton of gold from the Italian mafia.
That gold was the tipping point.
Steve betrayed them. He took the gold, killed John Bridger (his mentor and friend), and left the rest to die.
But owning the gold didn't bring peace.
He had to eliminate his own henchmen who wanted a cut.
Now, he trusted no one.
He lived alone in a massive villa. No live-in staff. No guards inside. Just cleaners he hired occasionally.
He fortified the walls and installed cameras, but he refused to let anyone stay inside. He was terrified his own men would turn on him.
Because he knew the power of that gold.
He visited the safe multiple times a day just to look at it.
He didn't believe anyone could resist the temptation.
"Wait. The gold!"
A terrible thought struck him.
Cold sweat drenched his back. He sat up, his face pale.
Recently, he felt like he was being watched. Everywhere he went.
It was a soldier's instinct. The same instinct that had saved his life on the battlefield.
His first suspect was Charlie.
He knew Charlie's team. They were principled but dangerously competent.
If it weren't for the gold, Steve wouldn't have dared to cross them.
But the bridge was burned.
It had been eighteen months since the betrayal.
Steve had left false trails in Europe to keep them busy, but he knew it wouldn't last forever.
They were coming.
And with this recent feeling of being watched... they might already be in LA.
"Those damn ghosts."
Steve's anxiety spiked.
He rushed to the adjacent room—his security hub.
A wall of monitors displayed over twenty camera feeds.
He scanned them.
The perimeter was clear. The main gate was secure.
He grabbed the radio. "This is Steve. Status report."
He could see the guard in the monitor, standing diligently at his post.
But Steve knew Lyle, Charlie's hacker, could loop video feeds. He needed audio confirmation.
The radio crackled.
"This is the gatehouse, Mr. Frazelli. All clear. Get some sleep."
"We promise, no one's bothering you."
The guards were from a private security firm serving the neighborhood. They weren't his men, which ironically made them safer. They didn't know about the gold.
Their annoyed tone reassured him. A looped recording wouldn't sound irritated.
Steve sighed in relief.
"Thanks."
He turned off the radio.
He was about to hang it up when—
One of the monitors flickered and went black. Static filled the screen.
An instant later, a piercing alarm shrieked through the room.
Steve's face went black with rage.
He lunged for the wall and grabbed an AK-47.
He knew exactly which camera had gone dark.
It was the hidden camera inside the "broom closet."
The room with the safes.
The alarm meant his trap had been triggered.
"Someone's inside. They found the gold."
Panic and fury exploded in his chest. Veins bulged on his grip as he clutched the rifle.
He stormed out of the bedroom, sprinting down the stairs.