From Bullets To Billions

Chapter 158: I Just Want To Talk about Your..

The captain had always thought Aron was a little off. A screw loose. Too calm, too collected, like a man who didn’t register danger the way normal people did.

But now?

Watching him charge straight in, running directly at a mountain of muscle that barely resembled a man?

Yeah. No doubt about it. Aron was absolutely insane.

They’d already seen rubber bullets bounce off this guy’s skin like foam pellets. Multiple tasers had fired, full contact, full voltage, and it had done nothing. Sure, every now and then you heard about someone resisting a taser, but not like this. Not all of them. Not every time.

This wasn’t resistance. It was immunity.

The rest of the squad was trying to regroup, trying to fall back, anything to avoid being steamrolled.

Then one of them pulled out a heavy-duty net launcher, a high-powered model designed to immobilize wild animals, even tigers. The steel mesh net was laced with tension lines, strong enough to crush someone if fired right.

But before the man could pull the trigger, Hercules moved. Fast. Faster than anyone expected.

He lunged forward, closing the distance in a blink, and grabbed the barrel of the launcher with one hand. His fingers squeezed, metal groaned and bent like tinfoil.

Then, with his other hand, he raised an open palm. It wasn’t a punch. It was a slap.

But judging by the wind-up, the size of his hand, and the tension in his shoulders, it was a slap that could remove a head from a neck.

The squad member winced, frozen in place, knowing full well this wasn’t going to be an ordinary hit.

And then,

BANG.

A sharp crack echoed through the clearing.

Hercules stopped mid-swing. His eyes twitched. His arm jolted slightly off course, and the slap missed its mark entirely, swiping through nothing but air.

Pain bloomed in his upper arm, deep in the joint. He turned his head, slow and steady. A man was approaching him at a confident jog, a handgun raised.

Aron.

“My name is Aron!” he called out, his voice echoing through the trees. “And I’m here on behalf of a client. We’re not your enemy. We wish to talk, calmly and peacefully, if that’s possible!”

But peace wasn’t in the air.

Not yet.

As Aron drew closer, Hercules clenched his massive fist, pulled it back, and aimed to drive it through Aron’s chest.

But Aron was faster than they expected. He fired again. And again. And again.

Each shot hit precisely at the same point, right at the throat. Right on the Adam’s apple. A cluster shot, perfectly aimed.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Three hits in less than a second.

Once again, Hercules’ swing cut through nothing but air.

In the same fluid motion, Aron dropped low and slid across the wet grass. Mud streaked his tailored suit, but he didn’t slow down. He dove straight between Hercules’ legs and emerged cleanly on the other side.

Mid-slide, he popped the magazine from his pistol, slammed in a fresh one, and had the gun raised and leveled right at Hercules’ face before his feet even found the ground again.

“What the, !?” the captain barked. “When did he take my ammo belt? I didn’t even feel it leave my waist!”

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“Sir,” one of the squad members said, eyes wide. “You saw those shots. Those moves. That’s not a civilian. He’s not normal.”

No one could deny it anymore.

Aron was not an ordinary man.

“Your client wants to see me?” Hercules asked, his gravelly voice rumbling as his sharp eyes locked onto Aron. “Then why aren’t they here themselves? And what kind of greeting is this, bringing a damn army to my doorstep?”

He didn’t wait for a response.

With a roar, Hercules surged forward.

Aron stood his ground, firing clean shots, aiming for the throat again, but this time Hercules raised his massive hand and blocked the bullets mid-run, the rounds thudding uselessly against his palm.

Aron backpedaled, quick and light on his feet, still firing. He changed aim, two rapid shots toward the knee, hoping to buckle his target. But Hercules kept coming, relentless.

A living battering ram.

They broke through the edge of the forest. Trees flanked the path now, and Hercules threw a wild punch.

Aron ducked low.

The punch smashed through the air and slammed into a thick trunk, ripping a chunk out the size of a cannonball.

Aron weaved, dodged, slid behind another tree, then peeked out just enough to fire another shot.

“I understand we’ve invaded your personal space!” Aron shouted between movements, breath tight but steady. “I get that this looks bad, but I need you to listen!”

He kept ducking, weaving between trees, using the terrain to slow down the monster of a man chasing him.

This wasn’t a field anymore. It was a maze.

And in a maze, speed and skill could hold up against brute strength, at least for a while.

“We were only worried about our own men’s safety, that’s why we reacted the way we did!” Aron shouted, his voice strained as he dove and rolled, dodging yet another devastating blow. “Just give me a moment to talk!”

Behind him, the sound of splintering wood cracked like thunder. He glanced back.

Hercules had clapped two trees together, crushing their trunks like cardboard. The splinters rained down like shards of glass.

That wasn’t brute strength. That was something else entirely. Something beyond human.

Aron’s stun baton was useless, and tasers? Laughable. Rubber bullets were his only option, but even those had no effect unless they hit just the right spot.

“Do you think I live out here because I want visitors like you?” Hercules growled. “Your request is denied. Keep pushing, and you’ll see what happens when I lose patience.”

He swung again, fast.

The punch missed Aron by inches. Instinct kicked in. He planted a foot on Hercules’ knee, springboarded off it, and drove his own knee straight into Hercules’ chin, snapping the man’s jaw shut with a brutal jolt.

Aron landed in a crouch, flipped backward, reloaded his gun mid-motion, and kept breathing, ragged but still steady.

From the edge of the field, the soldiers were frozen in awe. They had moved into position, ready to extract Aron at the first sign of real injury… but now?

He wasn’t just holding his own.

Every move Aron made had purpose. He used the forest like a shield, like a trap. He was redirecting Hercules’ power, not absorbing it.

And he hit him. A clean, calculated strike.

“They’re both monsters…” the captain muttered, barely believing what he was seeing. “But one of them’s clearly the bigger monster.”

“I apologize for hitting you,” Aron called out, chest rising and falling. “But you left me no choice. Now will you listen?”

Hercules didn’t answer.

Instead, he stepped toward a thick oak, wrapped both arms around it, and hugged it tight. There was a groaning sound, deep and violent, as roots snapped from the earth like bones breaking.

The ground trembled. Then Hercules lifted the entire tree clean out of the soil.

“Here’s my answer.”