Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Once again Tristan was glad that he not only had fame and publicity of his pop-star career but also human resources of his criminal one.

Tristan had placed surveillance on Frederic—one of his people was going to trail him 24/7, with shift changes every six hours.

He also prepared to raid the planned meeting of Gospel with his "apostles". There was a chance that the recent bans would spook him and make him cancel everything, but Tristan had high hopes of the opposite.

The shitstorm online had calmed down a lot since Tristan deleted Gospel's account. To his surprise and delight, the actual administration and owners of the social network claimed the bans came from them, and that Gospel's posts really went against the website's policies.

As if the website didn't allow plenty of personal attacks on people in the past.

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Clearly, it was easier for the administration to say that everything went as planned than to admit that someone seriously hacked them and could've stolen any amount of sensitive data.

Gospel didn't show himself again, but Tristan was sure this won't last forever—unless Tristan captured him in real life, that is. Nevertheless, Tristan was confident that he will be able to counter future online attacks.

With 10000 Pop-star Points he got for his last tasks, Tristan bought Remote Hypnotic Voice talent.

His shameless gathering of sympathy was great already, but with that, it was going to become ten times more effective. It was going to be so effective that Tristan was keeping this trump card unused for now.

He still had enough on his plate. Even with the online drama quietening, there was still the matter of terrorism. The city government was putting extra effort into sniffing out more terrorists, and many public events were canceled because celebrities involved in them went sick earlier.

Most celebrities were gradually recovering by now, but the events were still on hold, and people were still angry with the world about it.

***

Five days later.

There were ten people gathered near two nondescript white vans parked in a private parking lot. Only similar cars, made for getaway, raids, and trafficking, were parked there. The setting sun painted their boring whites and grays into beautiful oranges and yellows.

Each of these people was dressed like a special ops soldier, but lacked any identifying signs. Right now, they were counting their tear gas grenades and checking their equipment for the last time.

One of these people was Tristan, who had already checked everything and now was leaning on a van, waiting. Another was Damien, who walked up next to him and pulled out a cigarette.

He lit it up and took a drag, blowing a puff of smoke away from Tristan.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit this out, boss?" Damien asked. "I will bring the son of a bitch to you only—only slightly battered, as you asked. Your sergeant can lead the second team. The targets are just some civilians, anyway."

Tristan shook his head.

"Don't underestimate them. At the very least, they are fanatics. Better check again that everybody's earplugs work."

Damien tsked.

"It's gonna be a pain in the ass to coordinate people with these things. But yeah, they work. If we meet a real-life siren, it will be just a bird woman with huge tits. And Gospel won't have a chance to use his silver tongue on us before I cut it off."

Tristan frowned.

"Keep your enthusiasm in check before it makes you do something stupid, Damien. And better kill Gospel than follow his tune."

His tone ended the conversation there. Damien smoked the rest of his cigarette in silence, while Tristan watched the preparations.

A short while later, the people packed into vans. Five people into each van, with drivers already being inside.

One van belonged to Tristan's team, another to Damien's. Only their people were on this raid, since Tristan didn't want the entire gang to know about this raid.

Damien, at least, had a vested interest.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

They weren't driving, though—just waiting for the signal. And it came in the form of a message from the man trailing Frederic.

The message said that Frederic left his house and was moving in the direction that coincided with the location of the meeting.

"It's time," Tristan announced. "Start moving, slowly. Our time of arrival should be in forty minutes. Better not be too early."

"Got it," the driver replied from his spot.

When Tristan's van moved out, Damien's followed naturally.

***

The meeting place Gospel picked was a basement under an abandoned unfinished building. It was really a perfect place for meeting with your cult—at the very least, it had a fitting ambiance.

Judging by the amount of empty cans and bottles, and old syringes, the abandoned building above was popular among the local junkies. But it was quiet right now.

Tristan's van made a circle around the place. From the window, Tristan saw no sentries placed—either Gospel wasn't here, or he was sure about his safety.

But the man who tailed Frederic said that his target entered the basement door. The observer didn't notice any sentries around, either.

Tristan commanded the driver to stop near the exit and turned to address his teammates.

"Okay, last go through the plan, then everybody puts on the earplugs and we will converse only with gestures."

His men nodded and squared their shoulders, showing that they were listening. They only knew basic military gestures, but it was going to be enough.

'I should invest into even better training for my troops… but this takes at least a few months, and Victor already works hard on that,' Tristan thought.

"The basement has only one entrance. Our team will go in first, with me on the point. I will breach with a tear gas grenade and tell the people inside to surrender. If they do, we handcuff and gag them—all of them. If they don't, try to shoot at the legs. I'd prefer Gospel alive, but I'm fine with him dead. But first, I'd like to know who he is."

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