Quick Transmigration Cannon Fodder's Record of Counterattacks - Chapter 9: Pink Skeleton

Who said that Hollywood is the six gangsters in the world?

Who said that big stars are high above?

Who said that independent filmmakers can only survive in the cracks?

Dunn Walker, who likes to wear sunglasses, declares war on Hollywood!

“I want to single out Hollywood!”

Dunn raised Gal Gadot’s white chin with one hand, his eyes like torches.

- Description from novelbuddy

An experiment gone wrong, or possibly right? A Nascent Kaleidoscope opens his eyes.

A reincarnated Zelretch story. Previous Fate-series knowledge recommended.

A Fate/DxD/Multi Crossover.

In Light of the horrendous new update, know that I do cross post on Fan Fiction dot Net.

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Su Xiaoxiu failed the college entrance exam and was admitted to a private university instead. Looking at the expensive tuition bill, her whole family was worried about how to pay for it. Should she take a gap year and retake the exam?

Just then, she suddenly got a progress system that gave her money every time she walked somewhere?! Looking at the large amount of money in the system, she was determined to improve herself and contribute something useful to society.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”