Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia

It had been awhile since he had a hit squad gunning for him. They were fairly common back in his warframe for a few decades there, but they slowed down more and more as Arasaka's competitors slowly realized that nothing they could send would be able to take him down.

It took Morgan Blackhand ready with a nuke to even slow him down, and that was decades ago. A city center reduced to radioactive rubble and millions dead as collateral from the clash of two legends. Adam had only been getting better chrome and more experience as he went along. He knew in his gut that Blackhand was doing the same, wherever that asshole was these days.

And in the off chance some punk with a vehicle-grade gun got a lucky shot off on him? They always aimed for the head. His biopod was in the torso. His frame had lost its sensor-suite a few times over the years, they never anticipated that the headless borg would reach over and strangle them to death after they dropped their guards. Kagekaze called them possum-tactics, he called them effective.

He made a note to do that if he ever met that lucky punk again, professional pride and all that.

So a return to form with opposing corporate assassins with heavy weaponry waiting in ambush? It was downright nostalgic.

Granted, these meatbags were aiming for his wallet, not his life. That dampened the excitement a tad. That, and he knew for a fact they hadn't come ready to take down Adam Smasher, so whatever preparations they made weren't going to be enough to make it a fair fight.

A shame, but that would change in time, as his rep increased in these parts. Give it a few years and rival corporations will start having strategy meetings specifically about how to take him down again. He couldn't wait for the opportunities to break through their walls while they were happening again.

Still, they might not be enough, but that was no reason to get sloppy. "Strengths and weaknesses?" He asked the foxbrat as they walked back from the day of slaughter, bags of supporters behind them abrim with cores and his own bag abrim with monster parts. Scrappy and Swordmeat (he needed to come up with a better name, if he started using other weapons too) had similarly full bags, as did the three brats who volunteered to carry things about halfway into the second shift.

So he paid their share in cores, thus saving him the need to write checks later. Seven ant cores each was enough to pay them for the information and tip them extra, cores that they kept checking on with enthralled expressions. Scrappy and Swordmeat were having a conversation about drop items behind him, which he tuned out as unimportant for the moment.

Foxbrat blinked, looking up after a moment, then replying. "Umm… Tanuki is pretty strong, yeah, he can pick up and toss people around with one hand!" He could do that too, so not that impressive. He also already knew how strong from grappling the meat earlier, but 'enough to bruise the palm' wasn't too much.

"He's also really sneaky! You can go somewhere, close the door, and turn around to see him already standing there! He just shows up outta nowhere!" Bunnybrat chimed in with a serious look on her face. Something to watch out for, but potentially a non-issue depending on angle of approach.

"He's a coward. If he doesn't have a magic sword with him, he's probably going to run away." The Halfbrat finished up with an actual weakness, albeit one he had no intention of actually using. Letting targets get away didn't sit well with him, he preferred to wrap up loose ends like that. Then again, he could always chase him down afterwards, he had ranged weapons for a reason.

"Allies?" He rumbled, mentally mapping out their return and taking note of potential ambush spots. There were a few that he would use along the way, but he didn't know how clever these meats were or not, no guarantee that they would use any of them. Still, best to assume they would and plan appropriately.

"Umm… Weasel is there too, probably. He's not as sneaky, but he's really quick and has a sword!" Foxbrat warned. He had armor, so that sword probably wasn't going to be very useful against him unless they went for the gaps and weak points correctly. Bait an attack then counter?

"Any armor?" Not that it would make a difference against panzerfaust, but it was always good to know.

The three brats had to think about that for a moment.

"Uhm… Tanuki has a shoulder-pad, I think?" Bunnybrat replied after a few moments.

"Leather and chain then?" He growled with a raised brow.

Another long moment. "Do belts count as armor, Bushi-han?"

"No." He grumbled out the very obvious.

"Ah… No just the shoulder-pad. They just wear normal clothes except that."

Adam resisted the urge to be disappointed. It was normal for meatbags to not measure up. Besides, they might have come with better equipment than normal this time, so it was entirely possible they would survive more than one hit.

He would refrain from getting his hopes up.

"Ano… One last thing…" Foxbrat began nervously.

"Hmm?"

"We uhh… He's in the Soma familia too, so…"

They had betrayed their corporation in order to bring him information. They had done this because, as far as he could tell, they thought he was Japanese and no greater reasoning. He looked nothing like a Japanese man. They had that assumption based on him being able to speak the language and essentially nothing else.

Proved that this was an Arasaka-made world, at the very least.

"So you don't want to be caught having betrayed your familia." He rumbled out. The three of them flinched at that.

"Betray is a harsh word… No one likes Tanuki! No one!" Foxbrat insisted.

"Or Weasel!" Bunnybrat added.

"No one likes anyone in the Soma familia." Halfbrat finished with a despondent tone. "Everyone hates each other, and steals from each other, and no one trusts anyone else." Halfbrat looked up at that. "Don't worry about us getting in trouble for this, I don't think captain will even notice, let alone care."

"It's not true. I like you Coco-han!" Foxbrat nodded emphatically, matched by Bunnybrat.

"What about your god, surely Soma would care about his familia hating each other?" Scrappy chimed in with a troubled tone of voice.

"Soma only cares about making Soma. So long as he has ingredients and space to work, he doesn't pay attention to us at all." Halfbrat continued. "...I don't like Soma very much…" She quietly admitted, deliberately not specifying what Soma she was referring to. The other brats glanced away, but notably didn't argue that.

So internal disputes? He could act without much fear of reprisal, but his message would also be less effective. He rumbled in consideration.

"...Hey, why not join our Familia?" Scrappy offered. "I'm sure Hestia-sama would be happy to meet you! We can always ask if you want."

Adam groaned even as the three of them started excitedly chattering. "Goddamnit Scrappy-"

"Blasphemy!" Scrappy scolded lightly.

"-The fuck did I say about picking up strays?"

"Oh come on Adam, didn't you mention expanding earlier as a good thing?" Scrappy attempted to use his words against him. "We're getting plenty of valis every day, so we can probably afford to grow our familia pretty soon."

"We have better prospects for recruiting than three brats, I'm sure." He growled. He was fairly confident none of them were older than fourteen and had less combat experience than he did when he was ten. Late bloomers by any definition.

"We can be useful!" Foxbrat interrupted with determined fists raised before her face. He very much doubted that, her only redeeming feature thus far was a targeting function of unknown specifications. "I'm a spellcaster! A-and we can share a room! We don't take up much space!"

Adam audibly groaned as the three pubescent girls started chirping about their positive traits in hopes of recruitment. Scrappy was smiling and Swordmeat was chuckling. The SS each had a mask of quiet professionalism on their faces, which meant that they were now his favorite meatbags.

—

They ended up using chokepoint three. Not the one he would've chosen, too many alternative routes, but not a bad choice by any means. "Flank route on left side, watch out for it." Adam commanded quietly as they approached, the room at the end of the hallway being interposed by a familiar raccoon and two other meatbags. One with a dumb looking afro and the other with a forgettable, roundish face. True to the earlier description, the Raccoon was wearing a shoulder pad, and that was the sum total of armor among all three.

"Oh? Fancy meeting you down here in the Dungeon, and with some of my own familia with you, why-" Raccoon started, swaggering forwards with his hand on the hilt of the overly fancy garbage on his hip. He was attempting to ease into the daylight robbery with smooth talking, setting the tempo of the conversation.

"You're trying to rob us." Adam interrupted the bullshit with a blunt accusation. "You're trying to rob us because you got your little feelings hurt the other day." Insults and honesty were usually pretty effective at cutting through the posturing.

There was the halfmeat behind them, deeper into the room. Little hooded girl with a bag that could probably fit him in it, it looked comical. She looked like she wished to be somewhere else at the moment.

Note to self, preserve that one if possible, he needed a corroborating witness for the 'story' here. Just in case. He could safely bribe her if needed. If all else failed, it was just another loose end to wrap up.

Raccoon stared blankly for a moment, before replying. "You're smarter than you look, being honest. I was going to be generous and only take half, but honestly you piss me off. Drop your bags and run off, will you?"

"Counteroffer, meat." Adam raised his hands, cracked his knuckles through his gauntlets, and cracked his neck with audible pops. "How bout I beat you into a fucking pulp, and you pray I drag you out afterwards."

"Ah, ah, ah." Raccoon waggled a finger. "See I'm a pretty jumpy man, if you scare me too much I might swing Nagashima here. See she's a pretty special-"

"Magic Sword." Adam interrupted again, breaking his tempo with deliberate interjections. Raccoon paused again with a frown as Adam continued. "And you're not going to swing it."

"Oh? Why is that?" Raccoon asked, tilting his head back and glaring. You look ridiculous, try actually wearing armor for once.

Adam shrugged off his bag, pointed it at the trio obstructing them, and opened it by one belt-buckle. Inside were all the drop items that they acquired from today's haul.

All twenty-five. Today was a very profitable one, especially since he knew to head for the pantry immediately instead of secondarily and started a slightly more efficient means of farming valis.

"This is all the drop items gained from today, acquired from monsters from the sixth, seventh, and eighth floors." Adam calmly explained, before going through the motions of buckling up his bag again and shouldering it once more, strap across his torso. "All the bags we have are full of cores. In total, today's haul is worth one-million four-hundred and twenty-five thousand valis, plus whatever we can auction off the drops for."

Adam tilted his head disdainfully. "That magic sword probably doesn't cost more than one-hundred and fifty thousand. You swing and you destroy the loot on our backs, loot enough to buy nine more magic swords and leave enough left over to binge on your sin of choice for weeks."

"That knife on your belt is an empty threat." Adam finished, spreading his arms apart in an arrogant manner. "Now stop wasting my time, and let's get to the part where I shatter your limbs already."

Raccoon stared for a few moments longer, before sighing and shaking his head. "Man, you're just the worst huh? Least fun robbery I've had in a long time. I got a question for you, though."

"What's that?" Adam rolled his shoulders and started walking forwards.

"Did you really think a Magic Sword is my only preparation?" Raccoon glowered out, his fellow deadmeats walking up to stand on either side of him.

"On our flank!" Halflead called out. Something was thrown behind him.

He didn't check behind him, keeping his eyes on the Raccoon in front of him. Said Raccoon was developing a wide, smug smile as whatever behind him unfolded. "Report!"

"Wounded Ant!"
"Kill it!"
"It's too late!"

He made a note to lecture Scrappy about fast reactions later. He could hear monsters start to spawn from the walls. The sound of his own group moving into defensive positions around the supporters.

Killer Ants, when wounded but left alive, released a pheromone that summoned more ants from the walls. As many ants as the walls could support, summoned all at once. One of the main reasons they were considered newbie killers, because newbies didn't kill them fast enough.

"Nice throwing, Ged!" Raccoon called out with a grin of vicious camaraderie.

From the flank route on the left, one that connected to a tunnel slightly above and separated by a ledge, an arrogant voice called out. "Took you long enough to give the signal, the little bastard was about to call them down on me!"

"It's Weasel!" Foxbrat called out with worry. Good to know that one was accounted for.

They were expecting the ants to kill them, after which they would lead said ants into the room nearby at chokepoint and wipe them out with the magic sword. After which they would be free to come grab the bags off their corpses at leisure and move along. Not a bad tactic to use, if he was being objective here.

Of course, they weren't accounting for one thing. "Scrappy, Swordmeat."

"Yes?"
"Yeah?"

"Make sure to capture the flanker after you're done with the swarm." He rumbled out, continuing his steady approach towards the three suddenly slightly-nervous meatbags.

They had been using this tactic all day.

Ant swarms were very good for earning valis, if you could handle them. He knew that they could from extensive field testing, it wasn't that hard once you figured out the trick to it. They were going to do just fine.

In the meantime…

Adam began to run forwards, making sure to stomp in the way that made his steps as loud as possible, swinging his arms with furious tempo and rushing in dauntlessly. Three-hundred odd pounds of metal and lean meat on a direct collision course with meatbags a foot shorter and without any armor. The three meatbags flinched, two of them stepping back and wavering already.

Halfbrat was right, they were cowardly little shits. Then again, fighting unenhanced meatbags was always like this. Their morale was usually shit, and morale was nine tenths of what kept them in the fight.

…He had a slaughter to participate in.

AN : found a good place to stop, this is a complete chapter.