They could have come early, they could have come late, but they chose the most critical moment to strike.
What was this?
Did S.H.I.E.L.D. truly believe they ruled the heavens, the earth, and the very air people breathed? That they could show up whenever they pleased?
Fine.
You want to play? Come on then. If I don't cripple you this time, I'll take your damn surname!
From the moment he was born into this world, Locke had felt a distinct lack of belonging. Carrying a Player System only heightened the sensation that he was playing a game—specifically, a single-player game where he was the only true participant.
He felt no loyalty to this world. None at all.
The fact that he had played for sixteen years without breaking the world entirely was a testament to the education from his previous life. He had restrained himself, knowing that if he played too hard and everyone died, he'd have no way to grind missions.
But this time?
S.H.I.E.L.D., is it?
You can force me into a game, but once I start playing, you don't get to decide when it ends.
*Bang!*
*Thud!*
A bullet roared from the barrel of a Silver Dancer, slamming into the windshield and ricocheting off.
"Bulletproof."
The Peerless Assassin, standing outside in his sunglasses, tilted his head. A smile played on his lips as he observed Melinda May in the passenger seat.
Melinda was also staring at the Assassin. To her, this was ironclad proof: the Peerless Assassin was indeed working with Locke.
Until...
The Peerless Assassin reached behind him and produced a man-portable rocket launcher, complete with a live warhead.
"What the... f—"
Melinda's pupils dilated. She turned and roared at the driver, "Drive! Now!"
'Is he insane?'
He wasn't here to rescue Locke. By the looks of it, he was here to tie up loose ends and kill everyone!
In truth, the driver didn't need Melinda's command. The moment the Assassin pulled out the launcher, the driver had already slammed the car into gear.
But...
*Boom!*
The Peerless Assassin watched the vehicle flee in the opposite direction. His mouth curled upward as he pulled the trigger.
*Rumble!*
The rocket trailed a long tail of fire. With a sharp whistle, it surged forward, catching up to the car—which had already covered a hundred and fifty meters—at a terrifying speed. Just as the rocket was about to impact.
Melinda May saw it through the side mirror. Her soul nearly left her body as she lunged for the steering wheel, jerking it violently to the side.
*Boom!*
The car plowed straight through the front of a closed burger joint. Behind it, the shockwave from the rocket's explosion rippled outward in all directions.
"Ah!"
"Fuck!"
Melinda cursed through gritted teeth as her forehead slammed into the dashboard, drawing blood. The driver had been knocked completely unconscious by the impact.
"Get out! Fast, get out!"
Locke offered no resistance, allowing the two remaining agents to haul him out of the wreckage.
Just then, the Peerless Assassin strolled over with a gentlemanly gait, the Silver Dancers gleaming in his hands.
However...
*Wail! Wail!*
The sirens of the NYPD were drawing closer by the second.
*Bang!*
*Bang!*
"Fuck!"
The two agents holding Locke were hit squarely between the eyes. They dropped dead instantly. Melinda's eyes shrank as she dove for cover.
*Bang!*
"Ah!"
*Wail! Wail!*
The Peerless Assassin paused. He glanced at the approaching police cars and let out a cold laugh. He looked at Melinda—the sole survivor—then shared a brief look with Locke before turning to vanish into the night.
He didn't kill Melinda, but not because he was soft-hearted.
It was because... killing her now would be too easy.
This game has just begun!
When it ends is up to me!
The NYPD arrived on the scene the moment the Peerless Assassin disappeared into the alleyway. George Stacy was among them.
George's face was thunderous. He stared at the mangled burger shop, the bodies strewn across the ground, and finally at Locke, who was still in handcuffs. He looked at Melinda. "Arrest her!"
Melinda froze. "Wait—"
But the moment she moved to resist, the NYPD officers already had their guns leveled. In the Union, the record for the fastest draw-and-fire belongs to the NYPD. An officer can draw, fire, empty a twelve-round magazine, and go to slide-lock in under a second.
Seeing this, Melinda immediately dropped her handgun. "I'm with the FBI!"
At a time like this, if the NYPD shot her, they'd get away with it.
Nick Fury was also on his way.
Soon, Melinda May was being fitted with handcuffs by the patrolmen.
And Locke?
George unlocked Locke's cuffs, his voice heavy. "Are you alright?"
Locke rubbed his wrists and looked at George with a steady gaze. "I need to call my lawyer."
George frowned.
Locke said solemnly, "I'll cooperate with an investigation, but that doesn't mean I'll let the FBI slander me like this. They took me away from a school dance as if I had already been convicted, Mr. Stacy."
In short: he was going to sue the FBI.
You want to play? I'll play. If I don't turn your world upside down, I'm not Locke Broughton.
"Most importantly..." Locke took a deep breath, his face a mask of fury. "I have nothing to do with that 'Evil Hunter.' That kidnapping is still a nightmare to me. Just now, it was obvious—because of the FBI's actions, that killer thought I knew something and tried to kill me. What did I do wrong? I'm the victim!"
There were surveillance cameras on both sides of the street. They could testify that the Peerless Assassin was clearly aiming to silence him. If that wasn't proof that Locke and the Assassin weren't accomplices, then the law had no meaning.
George remained silent. He pulled out his phone and handed it to Locke.
He was also furious. They were supposed to follow evidence. If even the police couldn't speak according to the facts, then how were they different from the vigilante "Evil Hunter"? What right did they have to judge him?
Just then.
Nick Fury arrived late, just as Melinda May was being pushed into a police car. He looked at his handcuffed agent and then at the protected Locke. He stepped out of his car and went straight for George. "Captain Stacy, this is a federal case!"
He had proof now.
Fury pointed at Melinda May. "Melinda May is a federal agent, and we have a court-issued arrest warrant."
"Where is the warrant?" George asked flatly.
"..."
Melinda May's gaze drifted toward the burning wreckage of the first car. The warrant was in that vehicle. By now, it was likely reduced to ash.
Locke finished his call and handed the phone back to George. He then looked at Nick Fury. "I'll go with you."
George was stunned. "Locke."
Locke looked at George. "They have their evidence. I need my evidence, too."
George: "..."
***
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