For the past three days, Adam had donned the uncomfortable pressure suit and breathing attachment and scouted his target. His name was Kunnlar Bundnet, and he was a high-level gang leader who had offended an even higher-level gang leader — and now had to pay the price. As it was back on Earth, most gang hits were within and between the gangs themselves. Adam didn’t really care. As long as they paid, he would kill. After all, it was the only thing he was really good at.

Satisfied that all was in order, Adam packed up the tools of his trade and placed them in one of the backpacks on the bed, while reserving the ’47 for this oiled leather holster. He then strapped the clear plastic breathing cup over his nose, and scooped up the other knapsack from the bed. Lastly, Adam Cain placed the camouflage boonie hat atop his head — the trademark of his SEAL persona — and cinched up the cord under his chin.

It was game time.

His target lived in a fortified compound on a hill about thirty klicks outside of town. Adam drove the rented transport to within a kilometer of the house, and after applying streaks of black grease to his face, slung the flash rifle across his back and secured four slide grenades to the MK’s utility belt. Then with the small knapsack secured across his left shoulder, he set off for the compound, covering the remaining distance in about a minute, through a combination of jogs and long leaps in the weak gravity.

In fact, gravity was an integral part of his attack plan. Rated at just. 69 of standard, Adam estimated the gravity of Hildoria to be a little less than half that of Earth’s. That was one of the reasons the atmosphere was so thin and the air pressure too low for him to function without the light pressure suit. It also produced natives who were all well-over two meters tall with huge, barrel chests. Apparently it required large lungs to inhale enough oxygen to survive…