Swimming City, slum district.
At the city's outermost edge!
Inside a dilapidated recycling plant.
A man, as if gone mad, tore off his tattered, patch-covered clothes and changed into a black trench coat, then dashed straight into a beat-up Mercedes!
Engine roared to life, foot slammed on the accelerator!
In an instant, the car vanished down the street.
Thick, acrid smoke lingered in the air.
Damn it, German cars really do burn oil.
If you didn't know better, you might think a monster had just passed by.
"Are you blind?!"
"Trying to get yourself killed?!"
Along the way, several pedestrians narrowly avoided getting hit.
The more hot-tempered ones immediately pulled out firearms and opened fire.
The slum was chaotic; it wasn't out of the ordinary for everyone to carry a weapon.
But the man paid no mind.
His face was ashen, an aura of murderous intent enveloping him!
He was nothing like the kindly middle-aged scrap collector he had been before!
