Minkland's customs office, night.
Tyrone's hand dripped blood as he clutched his g*n, striding forward with a steely gaze.
Behind him, a group of burly men followed, clearing the path ahead.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sharp cracks of gunfire rang out.
They fired their weapons as they advanced, gunfire echoing incessantly behind them.
Hot on their heels was a squad of professional mercenaries who had been hunting Tyrone since he touched down.
Tyrone's gaze was glacial.
The Fourth District served as the Black Eagle's primary arms trading hub.
Tyrone's network of trading channels had always been rock-solid, never faltering over the years.
But this time, something went wrong.
A mole had leaked the location, and the notorious foreign g**g, the Serpents, had caught wind of it, stealing his
