So...
This is the true meaning of the mission No Escape?
Lorraine Broughton causes a disaster, dies, and that's it, it's over for her. But in the end, I'm the one left holding the bag?
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Regarding the International Contract Agency, or the ICA, from a certain perspective, his understanding of this organization was actually about the same as Mr. Nobody's.
But looking at it from another angle, if he combined the information he knew in this life with the knowledge from his previous life, Locke estimated that he probably understood this International Contract Agency just as well as he understood Hydra.
Put it this way.
The hitman business was a high-turnover industry. Every day, hitmen died because of failed missions, and every day, new ones were brought in to replace them.
However, this approach was not conducive to certain hitman organizations that wanted to make money while remaining strictly confidential.
After all, a crowd breeds loose lips. With too many people constantly coming and going, sooner or later, no matter how confidential your hitman organization claimed to be, your headquarters would eventually be exposed.
Therefore, a great genius curiously asked. "Since hitmen are consumables, why don't we produce them ourselves?"
And so...
From then on, the world gained hitmen who were practically cloned from the same mold, sporting bald heads, barcodes on the backs of their necks, and a preference for wearing suits with red ties.
Locke recalled the International Contract Agency behind Agent 47, of which he had limited memory. He stroked his chin while looking at the final documents regarding Lorraine Broughton in his hand.
To be perfectly honest.
If the reward for this mission weren't so generous, and if he were being forced to take the blame for absolutely nothing, he would have had half a mind to go to the cemetery, find Lorraine Broughton's corpse, and vent his frustrations.
Wait, no.
She didn't even leave a corpse.
Locke paused slightly. Looking at the final summary report in the files, he couldn't help but shake his head and let out a laugh.
"Forget it, consider it payback for the favor of giving me life. You were heartless, but I can't be unrighteous."
He had been kind-hearted since childhood.
Most importantly.
[Ding!]
[Mission Completed: "Lorraine Broughton!"]
[Mission Reward: "100,000 Achievement Points", "100,000 Potential Points", "1 Treasure Discount Coupon"]
[Status Refreshed!]
[Name: "Locke Broughton (The Sole Player!)"]
[Identity: "Assassin" (Can switch to Witch form, Progenitor Vampire form)]
[Achievement Points: "390,000"]
[Potential Points: "400,000"]
...
Once Locke gained full insight and finally pieced together the entirety of Lorraine Broughton's experiences, this mission—which had plagued him for a week and stubbornly refused to conclude—finally displayed as completed.
The next second.
[Ding!]
[Generating Mission: "No Escape!"]
[Base Mission Reward: "3,000 Achievement Points", "3,000 Potential Points"]
[Mission Bonus Rule: "Movie Mode!"]
[Mission Bonus Coefficient (Max): "100x" (Using extraordinary powers caps the bonus at 50x)]
[Mission Description: Looking up to the sky and roaring, my heart is desolate. I made a pact with heaven, there is no escape.]
[Mission Note: No escape—for whom is this meant?]
[Accept / Reject!]
"Accept!"
Without a second thought, Locke chose to take the mission. A base reward of three thousand with a maximum one-hundred-fold bonus meant three hundred thousand Achievement and Potential points.
Without a doubt.
If this were a game, then this mission would be what they call an annual expansion update mission.
Though...
No escape?
Who the hell can translate that? What exactly does 'no escape' mean? Is it talking about me?
Locke was slightly taken aback.
He had settled Lubyanka, whom Lorraine Broughton had offended, and he had even agreed to join the CIA, which basically counted as handling MI6.
But this ICA wasn't settled?
So...
Where am I supposed to find this ICA?
Locke stroked his chin. This ICA was an organization that, even in the eyes of the CIA, existed but lacked evidence of existence. Its status in the assassin world was practically the same.
However.
Locke pulled out his satellite phone and found his intelligence supplier.
"Red!"
The moment the call connected to the Red Reddington, Locke went straight to the point, "ICA, the International Contract Agency. How much do you know about them?"
On the other end of the phone, Red, who was enjoying red wine under the setting sun, seemed to pause. Then, wiping his lips, he stood up and walked onto the sandy beach, looking out at the ocean
"Does that organization really exist?"
Hearing the tone of those words, Locke smiled.
"Red?"
Red laughed heartily on his end, then shook his head, "Alright, my friend, just a joke. But may I ask, is this official business or personal business?"
Official business meant a notification slip.
As for personal business...
With a series of sharp crunches.
Locke with a smile fed the documents concerning Lorraine Broughton into the paper shredder. He looked up, his tone flat.
"You know the kind of person I am. I'm very kind-hearted."
Red let out two dry chuckles on his end before stating directly, "I don't know much about this organization. After all, those they deal with are usually government agencies."
"Langley claims they have no knowledge of it."
"Who? Who did you get that from?"
"..."
Red burst into loud laughter on the other end of the phone, shaking his head.
"Oh, my dear friend, heavens, I thought you already understood Langley well enough. I didn't expect... Langley knows far too much. It's just highly likely that the informant you approached simply isn't aware of this matter."
Locke's eyelids twitched.
He felt like Red was mocking him.
Though...
Red's words were also correct. Langley was a massive institution, and moreover, it was an agency where the people inside answers to no one. To put it plainly, the directors inside run their own independent fiefdoms.
As for the Director of the CIA?
Heh.
A new president appoints one, and when the president steps down, the Director of the CIA changes right along with them.
For the country, the only real purpose of the Director of the CIA was to serve as the designated scapegoat to be thrown under the bus whenever Langley messed up.
But if that was the case.
Then...
Locke glanced at the documents that had been completely reduced to shreds, his eyes flickering slightly.
If someone in Langley knew about this ICA, then it could only mean one thing: Lorraine Broughton hadn't accidentally walked into that booby-trapped apartment. It was highly probable that she had been set up by someone to walk into that trap.
[Ding...]
"Ding your ass!"
Feeling the system popping up, Locke directly forced it back down."I have no interest in Lorraine Broughton's cause of death. Don't give me missions."
System: "..."
Locke snapped back to reality and picked up the phone again. "Can you help get in touch with them?"
"Apologies."
"Hmm?"
"They never accept orders from individual clients."
"That arrogant?"
Red laughed heartily.
"Furthermore, aside from not taking orders from individual clients, they also do their utmost to avoid collateral civilian deaths outside of the target. Third, they do not accept assassination contracts targeting former clients. So, I initially thought you were one of the ICA's men, but because of this third rule, I knew you weren't."
Locke: "..."
You might as well just call me money-grubbing.
Back when he was in Texas, he wasn't that particular about taking contracts. As long as it wasn't an innocent bystander, killing the previous employer caused Locke absolutely no psychological burden.
Red then added, "Back when I was still working with the government, I dealt with them once."
Locke raised his eyebrows, "Their organization is based in the States?"
"No."
Red shook his head, "The only thing I can confirm is that the ICA has a London background."
"MI6?"
"There are connections, but for the specific details on whether there's a direct relationship, you might have to go ask M."
"Will she tell me?"
"You could try letting her see you with your sunglasses off."
"..."
Locke did not consider Red's suggestion. However, the fact that the ICA had some connections with MI6 was both outside of expectations and yet exactly as expected.
After all...
If the ICA had an MI6 background, then it would explain a few things. For instance, why the KGB was still thinking about revenge after all these years, while MI6 seemed entirely indifferent.
Locke had originally assumed it was due to the shift in the parent-child relationship, which was why MI6 hadn't planned on taking revenge.
But now?
It seemed MI6 had already successfully exacted their revenge.
But...
Since MI6 had already successfully taken their revenge—after all, Lorraine Broughton was dead—what were they coming to find him for? If it were said that he wanted revenge, that would make sense, but he had no intention of seeking revenge.
Then what the hell did this 'no escape' refer to?
Locke frowned slightly.
London.
Inside a large room that wasn't particularly dark, from which the River Thames could even be seen, the third M sat in her office. She hummed in assent a few times, put down the phone in her hand, her expression somewhat serious.
After a moment.
M picked up the phone once more and dialed a number.
Very quickly.
The call connected.
"Hello."
"That Nobody unsealed the file on Lorraine Broughton's final mission and made a copy."
"They don't have any leads."
"I know."
"It's been verified. He went to the Star Tower. Locke Broughton, Lorraine Broughton's son. It seems the son is taking up the mother's trade. Do you need me to handle it on my end?"
"No need."
M said in a deep voice, "Lorraine Broughton is already dead. We have already completed our revenge. Her son has not provoked us. Without my orders, no one is allowed to act without authorization. Do I make myself clear?"
Back then, because of the Berlin Wall mission, the ones who suffered humiliation weren't just the KGB. MI6's prestige had also been completely wiped out, and the previous M had died in depression because of it.
After all, he was the one who had recruited Lorraine Broughton in the first place.
On the other end of the phone.
Hearing M's stern words, that person let out a relaxed chuckle, immediately after, pressed a button, and then said.
"Of course. Crystal clear."
Paris!
The airport.
A bald man wearing a suit and a tie looked at his suddenly ringing phone. He pulled it out to glance at it, and immediately spoke to the staff member behind the counter, "Change my ticket."
The counter lady gave a sweet smile, "Certainly, sir. May I ask what your destination is?"
"New York!"
"The earliest flight available."
"..."
***
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