In the end, they met in mid-air.
Coincidentally, it was exactly where Blaine had tracked the signal.
It was a U.S. President's chartered plane, flying toward a dock. The paper crane slipped inside, where President Ellis, his secretary, and several high-ranking officials were seated.
Blaine hadn't expected Killian's ambition to be this bold. Wasn't he afraid of choking on more than he could chew?
It didn't matter. Even if the King of Heaven himself were on this plane, Blaine would vent his fury.
As for the Vice President—today, no one could save him. Not even Jesus, as Blaine the bounty hunter declared.
Now that he had locked onto his target, Blaine dispersed the paper crane's tracking. As the crane dissolved into light and vanished, he launched himself into the sky.
Because the plane happened to be along his path, within half an hour a massive jet marked with the American flag appeared before his eyes.
In the next second, Blaine materialized outside the hatch.
He grabbed the door and yanked. It tore away as if it were paper.
After all, with 325 points in physique, his strength was monstrous. A casual pull carried the force of several tons.
"F—squid! What's going on? What's happening?!"
"Where's General James Rhodes? Someone's hijacking the plane—!"
When Blaine forced his way aboard, panic swept through the officials.
Though all of them were political elites, none had ever seen such a sight. Only President Ellis kept his composure as he shouted for help.
But at this moment, the Iron Patriot armor was no longer controlled by James Rhodes—it had been hijacked by Killian's men. No matter how loudly they cried out, no rescue would come.
"Don't worry. I'm here for one person only."
Blaine's cold gaze silenced their pleas.
"You—you're the Bounty Hunter. The one who fought off the alien invasion by himself..."
Recognition spread. The black-clad figure in the hood and coat was indeed the bounty hunter who had shaken New York just days ago.
Even those who didn't fully understand his reputation knew who he was.
"You should already know why I came. Since you dared betray, you must be prepared to die."
Blaine ignored the others. His eyes locked only on one man.
"Die."
With that, he drew the Cursed Blood Knife and leveled it at Vice President Rodriguez.
"D-Don't kill me! You're a bounty hunter—you want money, right? I'll pay! A fortune! Just let me live!"
From the moment Blaine appeared, Rodriguez had known his fate was sealed.
But after years of clawing his way to power—so close to the presidency—he couldn't accept death. The higher the rank, the deeper the fear of losing it.
"Please... I beg you... everything can be—"
"Too late."
Watching him kneel, trembling, the stench of urine spreading, Blaine sneered. This was the so-called Vice President? He dared betray yet couldn't face death? Such men deserved the blade.
He raised his knife and brought it down. Before Rodriguez could finish his plea, his head hit the floor.
The cabin fell silent. Even President Ellis slumped to the ground, staring in shock at his Vice President's corpse.
What... what just happened?
The group could only watch as Rodriguez died, powerless to resist, too afraid even to breathe. No one dared raise their head, let alone meet Blaine's eyes. At any moment, his blade could claim another neck.
When they blinked, he was gone. Only the heavy stench of blood remained. The bounty hunter had vanished as if he'd never been there.
Only the headless body testified otherwise.
Isn't Blaine part of the Avengers? Isn't he with S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Didn't he kill the Abomination, fight aliens, act like a superhero? Why had he executed the Vice President?
No one could make sense of it.
That confusion was exactly Blaine's design.
For so long, S.H.I.E.L.D. had hired him, forcing him into the public eye. People naturally assumed he was their man—a government hero, a counterpart to the Avengers.
Because of that, no underworld leaders dared approach him. Not Kingpin, not HYDRA, not even the Red Skull's remnants. These were killers and conquerors, but none had dared recruit Blaine.
At least, that's what Blaine believed.
Which made killing the Vice President a move that killed two birds with one stone.
First, it was payback. Blow up his home, and there would be a price.
Second, it was a declaration: Blaine was a bounty hunter—not a government pawn. He could kill villains, aliens, even the Vice President of the United States. If the price was right, nothing was off-limits.
A warning to all: Blaine worked only for money, not loyalty.
When he tore open the hatch earlier, his terrifying aura had held the air in check. Now that he was gone, the pressure shifted violently.
Air roared out of the cabin. Ellis, his secretary, and the entire delegation were dragged toward the opening.
At thousands of feet in the sky, a fall meant certain death—and perhaps chaos for the entire country.
But Blaine didn't care. He hadn't come to save anyone. He only wanted to make a spectacle. Killing was killing. Worrying about consequences and cleanup was not a hunter's concern.
"Mr. Hunter! Mr. Hunter! Help us—we'll pay! We'll hire you!"
As expected, President Ellis grasped Blaine's true intent quickly—he had executed the Vice President not for politics, but for profit.
But Blaine was already gone. After killing Rodriguez, he teleported away. He never heard Ellis's cries.
Even if he had, he might not have accepted. To swoop in as their savior after establishing his reputation? That would only undermine him.
No—this was Tony Stark's turn to appear, according to the way the plot unfolded.
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