In America, I’m a Gearhead Who Means Business

A demon kingdom on earth, a paradise among mortals. Unfortunately, God is dead.

I am Louis. I have just arrived in the United States because I heard that people here speak in an interesting and pleasant way, and often hand out free money, so here I am.

Well, the facts may be slightly different, but people here really do sound nice, especially when they have a gun pointed at their heads. Every one of them can rap. The free money is real too. You only need to apply some black paint, and you can receive the boss's benevolent "gift."

I absolutely love this place!

Oh, and there's something else: the equipment here is incredibly abundant.

Black doctors, black cops, black dealers, black people, the Four Blacks, terrorists, and extremists appear in endless numbers. With just a movement of my finger, I can make a huge haul every day: medicine, marksmanship, combat skills, auras, psychology, charm, and so on. There is every kind of equipment effect imaginable. I feel like I am almost omnipotent.

There is just one thing I do not quite like.

I am clearly killing more and more people, so why are more and more people following me? Something is not right.

Wait, what does this cross behind me mean?

Why are you kneeling before me?

You have really made things difficult for me!