My Lethal Company System

Chapter 7 : Why am i always getting the misfits ?

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"Why am I so unlucky?" Victor pondered as he attempted to converse with the woman before him. They hadn't even managed to exchange a few words before hitting the language barrier.

Victor knew a couple of English words but didn't even understand their meaning in French. Needless to say, an English conversation was out of the question, and the woman understood this instantly.

She extended her hand and introduced herself:

"**Shirley**."

'What does that even mean? Is it a greeting or her name?' Victor had no clue, but he shook her hand anyway. The woman appeared slightly disappointed, probably expecting him to kiss her hand instead. Nonetheless, she quickly recovered, pulled out her phone, and launched an instant translation app. She started typing before turning the screen toward Victor:

"Hello hand, I will take your hotel." Victor shifted his gaze from the phone to look at her with suspicion. She continued typing on her phone with a slight smile:

"If you'd follow me, we'll go on my car." Victor glanced again at the woman in front of him.

'I hate to say it, but I'm getting the feeling this woman isn't crazy. It must be the automatic translator acting up,' he thought as he followed her out of the airport. Surrounding them were the iconic yellow taxis of New York and their drivers trying to attract tourists amidst the general commotion. It seemed the perfect spot to park a taxi, yet the woman did not slow down. She headed towards the parking area reserved for those picking up relatives.

Inside, there were all sorts of vehicles from city cars to German sedans and, of course, American pickups. They were, in fact, walking towards one of these pickups. Victor couldn't understand how anyone could buy something so large and tall when even he, who was not short, couldn't reach the top.

But at least he felt reassured. He had had his fill of German sedans and preferred getting into something, admittedly more imposing, but with less horsepower. However, he had forgotten one detail.

He was now in the United States, the land of drag racing from one traffic light to another, and the first step to winning these races was to make your opponent believe they had a chance to beat you.

Americans were willing to do anything to win these races, even if it meant putting over 1000 horsepower in an ordinary pickup that had never asked for anything. Victor only had a short moment to sense the danger and consider fleeing when the engine started, as it was surprisingly two to three times louder than sports cars.

But he still went in and they set off.

The woman gave off the perfect impression of being civilized. She drove within the speed limit with admirable smoothness, somewhat offset by the roar of the engine. But so far, so good. The airport was outside the city, so they took the ring road.

Still no issues.

Victor even began to get comfortable in his seat and closed his eyes. They left the ring road and entered an avenue. And then, disaster struck.

A traffic light appeared ahead of them.

As Victor was resting comfortably in his seat, hell broke loose behind him. It was the sound of a demon that had been chained for far too long and was finally freed after several minutes on the road. Victor slowly opened his eyes to look pleadingly at the woman beside him. She was the human embodiment of the devil, barely containing an inhuman smirk and a demonic gaze that sent shivers down Victor's spine.