This seemed to be a story where two old men bickered, and the only one who got hurt was the incredibly handsome young man.
After all... they walked into the gun shop together, but Locke was the only one who actually spent money. George and Hank were purely there to browse.
But two thousand three hundred dollars? Just a drizzle.
Locke smiled at Gwen and said, "Let's go hunting. The wild boars here are overpopulated. Once we bag some, I'll charter a flight to air-freight them to your grandparents immediately."
Gwen nodded, her smile radiant.
Not far away, George saw Hank looking over at him. He raised a hand, expressionless. "This time, if our count is lower than his, only one of us is going back."
Hank: "..."
What does that have to do with me?
You're a veteran officer whose marksmanship isn't even as good as a kid's. Why don't you go jump in a river? There are plenty of bodies at the bottom of the Hudson anyway; one more won't hurt.
Hank really wanted to say that to his old friend, but at the same time, he was a little curious about Locke's shooting skills.
They found a fast-food joint on the road and grabbed a meal. By the time they reached their destination, Mingo County, it was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon. George and Hank pulled up directly in front of the Mingo County Sheriff's Department.
A moment later, Locke saw the local Sheriff—who looked like a real no-nonsense type—step out of his office to shake hands with George and Hank.
Upon hearing their request to borrow weapons, the Sheriff didn't think twice. He immediately called over a deputy to lead George and Hank to the armory to pick their gear.
After all, the America law enforcement community is one big family. Moreover, George and Hank were from big cities like New York and Chicago; one was a Captain, the other a Sergeant. These were valuable connections. Lending a few guns was a way to sow good karma. Who knew when they might visit New York or Chicago and need a favor in return?
The America, in the end, is a society built on relationships. Otherwise, why would D.C. lobbyists and the recommendation letter system be so popular?
Locke, Gwen, and Helen sat in the department's conference room, sipping the coffee the local staff had warmly provided. Gwen watched Locke as he surveyed the room.
As usual, Locke was memorizing the layout of the unfamiliar environment—a habit he couldn't shake. He caught Gwen's questioning gaze and smiled. "I think this is only the third time I've been in a police station."
Gwen also looked around. "It feels just like the conference rooms at the NYPD."
Locke looked toward a case bulletin board and asked curiously, "Did we sit in the wrong room?"
The board was covered in crime scene photos and intelligence analysis. A transport van carrying a serial killer and several inmates had flipped on the interstate about twenty kilometers outside of town. The serial killer and several murderers had escaped.
'Excellent,' Locke thought to himself. Honestly, he felt no inner turmoil at all. He looked at Gwen and Helen, who had also noticed the board. "Should we drive a bit further away?"
He was here for a vacation. Seeing news of a serial killer on the loose the moment he arrived—what was that about?
An officer happened to walk in with a plate of cookies. Hearing Locke, he laughed. "Don't worry. The boys over in Wyoming County have already cordoned off the roads. That group won't be able to make it over here."
'Why do I feel like that's another flag?' Locke thought as he looked at the officer.
Helen asked curiously, "Have they been caught yet?"
The officer nodded. "We have a general location. Most of the department has gone to the neighboring county to support the search. The mountain trails leading our way are also blocked by forest rangers."
Helen nodded.
Just then, George, Hank, and Erin pushed the door open. Between the three of them, they had five weapons: a Remington 870, an M4 carbine, and some Stark Lightning A1 handguns.
Gwen looked at the handgun Erin had chosen and asked curiously, "The caliber of a handgun won't pierce a boar's hide, will it?"
Erin laughed. "I just came to hang out. I'm not really interested in hunting."
Gwen nodded. She wasn't interested in hunting either, but she was interested in Locke.
Locke, feeling Gwen's gaze, sipped his coffee. George and Hank shook hands with the local Sheriff, noticed the bulletin board, and told the Sheriff to give them a call if they needed anything. After exchanging numbers, the group left.
Their lodge was located just outside of town on the perimeter of the hunting grounds. They wanted to get there early to meet the other hunters who would be heading into the mountains tomorrow.
As for the escape in the neighboring county? George and Hank were here for tourism, not to steal glory. Unless the local police explicitly invited them, they technically had no law enforcement jurisdiction here. As for Locke, he was even less interested.
...
The lodge George had booked was right near the hunting grounds; a few steps away, you could see the winding mountain road leading up to the forest. The parking lot in front was already quite full.
The proprietress seemed to be a friend of Hank's. Seeing him step out of the car, she walked over and gave him a big hug. They exchanged "long time no sees" and even a cheek-to-cheek greeting.
But... Locke saw it clearly. The proprietress actually used her lips. Her husband was standing right there, shaking hands with George.
'Infidelity in front of the husband? This is getting spicy right off the bat,' Locke thought, momentarily stunned. He looked at the owner shaking hands with George, then shifted his gaze to Helen. Gwen probably didn't know the story, but Helen likely did.
Sure enough, Helen whispered, "Rebecca. She's Hank's first wife."
Locke froze. "First? Which one is he on now?"
"The fourth, I think."
"..."
Good grief. I didn't see that coming.
Locke watched Hank with a hint of suspicion. After the hug with Rebecca, Hank went over to shake hands with the husband like they were old pals. The whole scene felt surreal. Even Erin seemed very familiar with Rebecca.
Helen clarified for Locke: "Technically, Erin is also Rebecca's foster daughter. She was adopted while Rebecca and Hank were still married."
Locke realized the connection. No wonder.
Even though the relationships weren't that messy, Locke still had to process it. He didn't think he could ever be like Hank—chatting and laughing with an ex-wife and her new husband after a divorce. Even so, it felt like being cuckolded.
'Wait. I'm not even married yet, why am I thinking about divorce?' Locke shook his head and looked at Gwen.
Gwen looked up at him as if asking what was wrong. Locke just smiled. Gwen was so wonderful; only a fool would divorce her. And Locke didn't think anything would ever happen that would lead them down that road. In a few years, their relationship would basically be that of childhood sweethearts. It wasn't like a heroine from the sky was suddenly going to appear.
This isn't a novel!
(T/N:- But buddy, this is Marvel)
...
A moment later, Rebecca invited everyone inside. She waved to the front desk and took four keys.
One for Helen and George.
One for Locke and Gwen.
One for Hank.
One for Erin.
After distributing them, Rebecca smiled. "It just so happens there were four rooms left. I kept them specifically for you. If you hadn't called me two months in advance, I probably wouldn't have been able to clear them out."
Every June and July, the grizzlies and boars here overpopulate, so there are always many hunters.
George looked at the handsome wild boar who was about to root up his cabbage right under his nose. His brow twitched. "Wait, we're still short a—"
Rebecca blinked, then whispered to Hank: "Didn't you say Locke was Gwen's boyfriend? I..."
The look George gave Hank was dangerous. 'I brought you here to help me hunt boars, not to help a boar backstab me.'
Helen tugged at George and smiled. "No, the keys are just right. Thank you, Rebecca."
Locke looked at Rebecca with a wide smile. Even though this was his first time meeting Hank's first ex-wife, he liked her! He opened his contacts, moved Rebecca from the strangers category, added twenty points to her friendship meter, and promoted her to his friends list.
Don't look down on his friends list; there were very few people on it. The first was naturally Chester—his best friend whose loyalty was set in stone. The second was Gwen.
As for the third? It wasn't Helen, and it certainly wasn't George. It was John Rambo! John Rambo, who ran a ranch in Texas near the Mexican border, was one of the very few who knew Locke's true identity.
Anyway, getting onto Locke's friends list was no easy feat. His principle was quality over quantity. To him, friend wasn't just a label; it was a relationship that required responsibility.
George opened his mouth, staring at Locke. To him, the wild boar looked like he was thinking, Great!
George said directly: "Gwen, you stay in a room with Mom. Locke and I will share a room."
Locke: "..."
Gwen: "..."
(T/N:- Father-in-law strikes again)