Chapter 247: The Bloodline Rangers Arrive
Three men had burst through the front doors with a loud crash, stepping confidently into the room as if the chaos already brewing was merely a welcome party. Each of them wore the same sleek jacket, midnight black and unmistakably tailored for more than fashion. Yet there was one subtle distinction: the color of the lining on the inside of their jackets.
Out of all of them, one man stood out immediately, the one whose inner lining shimmered silver beneath the overhead lights. He was clearly the leader, and he stepped forward with effortless calm, commanding the room without saying a word.
"What is happening today?!" the manager shouted, his voice already strained. "Did everyone take a crazy pill this morning?!"
As if on cue, the kitchen doors swung open behind the bar, and a new wave of tension washed over the room. The kitchen staff emerged, still dressed in crisp white uniforms, but in their hands, they held long, sharp kitchen knives.
Just as Max and Dud had suspected, the staff weren’t ordinary chefs, they were Black Hounds.
"I know Max gets himself into some really, really dangerous situations," Joe muttered under his breath, "but this... isn’t this a little too dangerous?"
Steven, standing beside him, gave a wary nod. "We half-expected this. After all, Max called everyone he could before coming here. He knew what might go down."
Joe’s heart pounded in his chest. These weren’t just school delinquents carrying bats or pipes, these were fully grown adults, broad-shouldered and heavy-handed. Some of them were just as big as Steven. And those blades they held? They weren’t bluffing. If Joe were stabbed, he wasn’t sure he’d even make it to a hospital.
From above, Max watched everything unfold. He let out a breath of relief as he recognized the silver-lining jacket. Earlier, he’d seen the message confirming they were en route. And now, they were finally here.
Despite all the unknowns, despite all the unpredictable elements of this operation, Max had always believed it would come down to one thing: fighting.
He hadn’t expected Dud to be such a significant variable in the equation. Still, in the back of his mind, Max had imagined this exact outcome, that he’d need help. He had simply hoped to squeeze out a bit more cash into his account before the chaos erupted.
"What are you idiots doing just standing there?!" the manager screamed at the staff. "Those intruders weren’t invited! Deal with them!"
The knife-wielding kitchen staff began to charge forward.
Without hesitation, the silver-lining man, Aron, reached for his waist, his hand moving with precision. In one smooth motion, he pulled out a collapsible baton and snapped it open with a satisfying metallic click.
As the first attacker lunged toward him, Aron brought his arm down in a swift arc, targeting the wrist. The strike was clean, surgical. Pain exploded in the man’s forearm, forcing him to drop the knife immediately.
Before the attacker could recover, Aron spun and slammed the baton across the man’s face. The force sent him twisting to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor.
A second attacker didn’t flinch, he rushed in without hesitation, thrusting his blade toward Aron’s ribs. But Aron spun again, smoothly dodging the attack. And this time, from the other side of his jacket, he pulled out a compact stun gun.
He jammed it against the back of the man’s neck and activated it. A violent crackle of electricity lit up the air as the man seized up and dropped, twitching and unconscious.
Ordinary stun guns wouldn’t have done the job. But this was no ordinary tool. Modified and upgraded for high-threat situations, it delivered pain, and results. Steven, watching from the sidelines, knew that agony well.
Just like that, Aron had neutralized two grown men in a matter of seconds, with barely a scratch on himself.
"The Bloodline Rangers?" Dud muttered to himself.
His eyes narrowed as he watched the display. The name was familiar. The silver-lining man’s technique, calm demeanor, and sheer efficiency, Dud hadn’t seen anything like it since his earliest gang days.
Where had he heard that name before?
And then it hit him. A conversation long ago, a group that had come up in whispers and warnings. A name: The Bloodline .
’Is this them? But what reason would they have for being here?’
The questions flooded his mind. Yet something else gnawed at him too. There was a strange familiarity about these men. Their faces didn’t register immediately, but something about them, maybe their auras, their energy, felt recognizable. Still, Dud had never paid much attention to people unless he deemed them worth noticing.
Before he could dwell on it longer, the manager shouted again, this time with urgency.
"You two, Hawk! Sniper! Take care of them! And you, Elephant! You’re supposed to be Dud’s opponent, handle them!"
Elephant, the towering figure meant to square off against Dud, turned toward the newcomers. The tension escalated as more guards began shifting their attention toward the intruders.
Now, the Bloodline Rangers weren’t just up against kitchen staff, they were about to face seasoned enforcers.
Joe’s palms were clammy. His eyes darted between the fighters. There were three of them. Only three . And now they were surrounded.
Even Aron, as impressive as he was, couldn’t take on everyone, could he?
But then, a voice rang out.
"Don’t worry!"
A blur leapt through the now-broken entrance and soared across the room. The newcomer landed atop a table with a heavy thud , launching into a spinning kick that connected squarely with a bartender’s face. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"When the Rangers are in trouble," the newcomer said with a grin, "they always need help from a special ally."
He stood tall on the bar, clearly part of the same crew. He wore the same jacket, but just like Aron, his inner lining was different.
"I’ve brought in the reserves," he announced boldly, stretching out his arms. "And it’s time to create chaos." Wolf announced.
And the inside of the jacket, this one glowed gold .
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