"Excuse me, miss, is this seat taken?"
Jericho Rosales asked what he believed to be a gentlemanly question. Nikki merely glanced at him and replied with a blank expression, "Sorry, my boyfriend will be back shortly..."
Nikki had no intention of giving this guy any opening. She'd seen plenty of men like him—overconfident, delusional. If you didn't shut them down firmly, they'd just take it as a sign of encouragement and keep hovering like cats that smelled fish.
Jericho was taken aback; he hadn't expected to be rejected so swiftly. Still, he shamelessly sat down at her little table.
"Hello, let me introduce myself. I'm Jericho Rosales. May I buy you a drink? I just graduated from Columbia University last year. You must be American, right? I love America—it's such a land of freedom and democracy..."
Nikki saw him sit down after she'd already rejected him and shot him a withering glare. Just from his appearance, she could tell he was a useless playboy. She didn't even bother speaking to him, only wishing he'd get lost on his own.
But of course, Jericho lacked that kind of self-awareness. He kept rambling on about his background, as if it were some impressive achievement.
"Sorry, sir, please leave now. I'm not interested, you're not my type, and by the way, my boyfriend's coming back any minute. He's violent. If he sees someone harassing me, he might break their ribs..."
Seeing he still had no intention of leaving, Nikki interrupted him directly and firmly.
"Uh…"
Jericho was caught off guard and didn't know how to respond. He couldn't stay, but leaving felt embarrassing too. Foreign women were usually blunt, but Nikki was on a whole other level.
"Okay then, sir, feel free to stay here. I've got things to do, so I'll be going. Oh, thanks for the coffee."
Since he said he'd buy her a drink, Nikki didn't feel the slightest guilt. She packed up her laptop and left the café, leaving Jericho Rosales glaring with resentment.
Jericho was frustrated. He felt humiliated but couldn't do anything about it. After all, Nikki was probably American, and he didn't want to make a scene and embarrass himself further.
"Owen, I need to step away for five minutes..."
Outside, Nikki crossed the street to the hotel, planning to get a room—hopefully a quiet place without annoying distractions like Jericho. But first, she had to inform Owen.
"Sugarhead, what's going on over there?"
"Nothing. The café environment sucks. I'm getting a room across the street. Be quick."
"Alright."
Moments later, Nikki was in a newly booked room. Her computer reconnected quickly, and the data stream resumed.
"Alright, Owen. Support is back online. Everything looks normal for now."
"Got it."
…
In a narrow street in Manila, Jenny was out again—this time in full "sun-phobic" disguise. A headscarf covered her head, large sunglasses obscured most of her face. Aside from being identifiable as a beautiful woman, she had no easily distinguishable features.
She was driving her Peugeot hatchback slowly through a narrow street cluttered with parked cars. The two-way road had effectively been reduced to a single narrow lane. With pedestrians and scooters weaving through the gaps, it was an accident waiting to happen.
Jenny drove like a nervous newbie, which wasn't hard to fake. A long line of honking cars trailed behind her. Then, as if flustered by the pressure, she veered and sideswiped a van coming from the opposite direction—completely blocking the road.
Her car had hit the van at an angle. Clearly, it was her fault. Jenny stepped out looking like a panicked tourist. The van driver, clearly annoyed, got out and began yelling at her in English. Jenny babbled back in French, acting completely confused. Neither could understand the other.
Behind her were two black Mercedes-Benz sedans. Beyond them, traffic backed up for blocks. Horns blared. People yelled from car windows.
In front, Jenny continued gesturing wildly at the van driver. He was getting flustered, unable to comprehend her broken gestures and foreign tongue.
"Go help her. Get her to move the car,"
said the man in the backseat of the first Mercedes to his aide in the front.
The aide, in a black suit, stepped out and spoke to Jenny in French. Her face lit up—finally, someone who understood! She quickly began explaining. The black-suit aide translated to the van driver.
After a few exchanges, the van driver nodded. It seemed like the situation had been resolved. The black-suit man turned to walk back to the Mercedes, Jenny calling out "Thank you!" repeatedly behind him.
Just when everyone thought it was over, Jenny suddenly pulled something from her bag. She bent down and tossed two small objects under the Mercedes vehicles.
No one even registered what they were—just a sudden, horrible feeling. Jenny ducked behind her own car's tire to shield herself.
The two grenades rolled precisely under the Mercedes sedans.
Boom! Boom!
Explosions lifted the vehicles into the air.
Jenny whipped out a UZI submachine gun from a thigh holster and ran to the first car, yanking open the door on the side where the helpful bodyguard had just been.
A burst of bullets tore through the front seats. The driver and guard were killed instantly. The VIP in the backseat was hit but still managed to return fire.
Jenny didn't risk opening the rear door. Instead, she pulled the pin on another grenade, tossed it inside, and slammed the door shut.
Boom!
The confined space magnified the blast. Though the car's bulletproof glass didn't shatter completely, it bulged outward and sent a burst of powdery debris through the cracks.
Jenny knew her job was done. Even if the shrapnel didn't kill the target, the shockwave surely did.
Her lightning-quick assault left no room for response. The second escort vehicle hadn't even reacted before a burst of UZI fire forced the guards back into their seats.
They tried to fire from the windows, but such blind shots had little effect. Jenny retreated calmly.
The narrow street had erupted into chaos. People farther away were running in panic. Those closer crouched inside their cars, trembling.
The van driver who had collided with Jenny was huddled on the ground, hands over his head, yelling over and over, "Please don't kill me! Please!"
(End of Chapter)
[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Mutter"]
[Every 50 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]
[Use Code D8986 for 33% Off on All Tiers — Valid Until October 5th]