Filed to story: A Bullied Boy Died: A Mafia King Woke Up In His Body
Kyle did not focus on that right now, instead glancing around at the frightened gang members. “Anyone else want to try me?”
The gang members shook their heads rapidly, including Damian. While Ulon was a slob and a lazy leader, there was no doubt he was well-defended and had a solid constitution. The number of hits Kyle had to deliver to kill Ulon was a testament to that. Kyle didn’t even look tired, his eyes still staring directly at them with rapt attention, while his pipe still had beads of blood trickling down its length.
“No, leader.” Damian bowed immediately, a slight hint of fear showing on his face as he realized that Kyle could beat all of them up without breaking a sweat.
If I couldn’t beat Ulon in a duel, I certainly can’t beat Alvin now!
“Good. From now on, the gang is under me. The name shall remain the same. Who’s the oldest gang member here?” Kyle asked.
Damian and the gang members looked at one another, completely confused about Alvin’s apparent memory loss.
Does he really not remember anything about the gang? “I’ve been here the longest, about five years now, Alvin.”
“Okay. The rest of you dump him into the nutri-recycler or the airlock and get out of this room. Throw that ‘Riker’ guy into the cells. You stay. Also, from now on, my name is Kyle. Got it?” Kyle motioned to the corpse of Ulon and the unconscious Riker with a dismissive tone.
The gang members were clearly confused. They began to whisper among themselves, wondering if Alvin had finally gone senile or had been pushed to the edge by the near-death experience, developing a completely different personality out of nowhere.
More importantly, though, what the fuck is a nutri-recycler?
A loud and clear snap rang through the room again. “I said, ‘Got it?'” Kyle stared them down with a stern expression, causing the rest of the gang members to nod their heads vigorously, exiting the room while carrying the dead Ulon and unconscious Riker, leaving Damian alone with his new leader.
Kyle kicked the broken table apart, retrieved the somehow structurally sound chair, and sat down on it before staring right at Damian. “Name?”
“Alvin, do you not remember me? What happened to you in that fight? I swear, I didn’t mean to abandon you; it’s just…” Damian rambled before looking up into Kyle’s eyes, seeing that he was extremely serious and not in a joking mood. The blotches of blood that stained Kyle’s hair, clothes, and face only made it more apparent.
“My name is Damian, Leader,” the man formally replied after a few seconds, to which Kyle finally nodded.
“I’m going to be asking some questions. You will answer immediately and directly to the best of your abilities.”
Damian nodded.
Did he lose all his memories, and another personality took over?
“Good. I only need to know four things. First, economic factors. What is the current state of the economy? Average debt per person?”
“Eco-what?” Damian was already lost.
Kyle took a long, deep breath, slowly exhaling in exasperation. Damian rubbed his hands nervously as he saw a glimpse of irritation cross Kyle’s face.
“Fine. What is the population of the city?”
“Yes, sir. The city of Raktor is home to approximately eight million people. We are currently in the South Sector.”
He did lose all his memories.
“What is the level of technology here?”
“Level of technology…? Well, most of the new stuff runs on arctech, machinery, and so on. I’m not sure how to explain it.” Damian scratched his head, completely confused as to what Kyle was asking.
Kyle frowned visibly, causing Damian to tense up before asking another question. “How does this city make money? Do you have a currency system?”
“Make money? Alvin, now you’re talking like some strang-” Damian caught himself, aware of Kyle’s increasingly frustrated glare. “Ah yes, the city is a big trade hub, so most of the money comes from trading and services. We’re at the edge of the empire, bordering two other nations. There are a good number of factories in the South Sector, but they are still fairly new and not scaled up yet; mostly research. The currency is rakels.”
“So a nascent industrialization society…”
“Na-sce-nt?”
“Ignore that. How do the Seven Snakes make money now?”
Damian was familiar with this, having been in the gang for nearly five years.
Something Alvin should be familiar with too. “Oh, the usual. We provide protection services to traders and stall owners in this district as well as other shops. We also trade in alcohol and own a few brothels. Or at least we used to.”