As usual, Blaine had to rest for a while after each shot.
In the early morning, the villa's surroundings were quiet. The horse farm and golf course seemed deserted, unusually empty for the day.
Blaine speculated that some big shot must have reserved the grounds. This wasn't the first time—it just wasn't common for someone to rent out both the horse farm and the golf course together.
The villa area in Queens, where Blaine lived, was sparsely populated but home to hidden tycoons and elites—business magnates, political heavyweights, even underworld godfathers.
Still, Blaine was curious. Who could afford to rent out such expensive land? Even the nearby bowling alley and bar were shut down. Leisure and entertainment across the entire district had been reserved.
Tens of thousands of hectares of horse farms, thousands of square meters of golf courses—such a package deal wasn't cheap. For just a day, hundreds of millions might not even cover it.
Most importantly, whoever could arrange this—and silence so many powerful figures without complaint—must be someone with hands reaching into the heavens.
But it didn't concern Blaine. He hadn't yet reached the point of limitless wealth, and as long as no one bothered him, he had no objections. Their money, their business. Still, he couldn't shake a sense of a storm approaching.
"Maybe it's just the danger sense from mind control being too strong. I'm making myself nervous," Blaine muttered.
He changed into sportswear and planned his day: first a ride at the racecourse, then bowling—he recalled the new girl at the alley was beautiful. After that, golf. It had been days since he'd humiliated that rookie player; time to laugh at him again.
A carefree schedule. But reality was rarely so obliging.
Since outdoor activities were off-limits, indoor entertainment would do.
He picked up his phone, scrolling past several unspent in-game purchases, and opened a mobile game.
To his amusement, it was truly a paradise for pay-to-win players.
"Five thousand…" he muttered, grinning.
As a big spender in real life, Blaine had to maintain his dominance in-game. Crushing weaker players, buying power to bounce back from near-death, escaping at the last second—this gave him a satisfaction words couldn't describe.
The morning passed unnoticed. Games really were a good way to kill time.
"Hungry…"
He patted his growling stomach. Absorbed in the game, he hadn't realized it was already noon.
All because of pay-to-win's seductive charm.
Bread didn't satisfy him, and since he couldn't cook, he'd have to buy food instead.
What a waste, he thought, to live in such a big villa and only use a few fixed rooms. Maybe he should learn some cooking skills.
"No, what am I thinking? I'm a bounty hunter. What bounty hunter cooks for himself? Better to make money and hire ten top chefs. Every day."
He shook his head, clearing the thought.
If he ever did learn, it would be for Gali. To control a woman, start with her mouth. With good food, even a universe-level boss could be kept close—becoming his personal bodyguard.
Blaine grinned wickedly at the thought.
After a decent lunch at one of the restaurants in the villa district, he returned to his games.
But as he passed the golf course on his way home, his danger sense flared.
"Hmm?"
Instinctively, Blaine reached out.
A golf ball. It had been aimed straight at his face.
If he'd been an ordinary man, his skull might have cracked open.
"Who?"
"Bounty Hunter, sharp as always…"
A bald man approached from the distance.
The arrowhead tattoo on his forehead was unmistakable.
Bullseye.
"Are you looking to die?" Blaine's eyes narrowed.
"Don't get me wrong," Bullseye said with a smile. "My boss just wants a word. Please come with me." He gestured invitingly.
"Get lost. Not interested."
Bullseye's boss was none other than Wilson Fisk, a.k.a Kingpin—the undisputed ruler of the global underworld.
But Blaine had no intention of humoring him. If he ignored aliens, why should he bother with Fisk?
"I really don't want to drag your corpse there," Bullseye warned. "The boss won't be pleased."
"Try me," Blaine said coldly.
The idea of an ant challenging an elephant nearly made him laugh.
Swish, swish…
Bullseye's expression hardened. Two throwing darts appeared in his hands and shot toward Blaine's eyes.
As expected of Fisk's assassin, Bullseye had skill—but only against normal men.
Blaine didn't dodge. Raising one hand, he caught both darts between his fingers.
"You striked first, now it's my turn to strike back."
He flicked them away, adding a twist of Absolute Hit.
Bullseye dodged instinctively, but his face went pale as the darts curved midair, homing toward him like missiles.
Pfft!
The blades pierced both his arms clean through, pinning them to the ground.
"Remember this— there some people you cannot even think to mess with."
Blaine stepped forward, ready to finish him. Kill while the enemy is weak—threats demanded a price.
Clap, clap, clap…
"Wonderful! Extraordinary! Bounty Hunter never disappoints."
Applause rang out, halting Blaine's strike.
"Wilson Fisk," Blaine said flatly. "You rented out the entire district just to put on this little play for me?"
"Hahaha! As expected of you—keen, wise, and formidable. You already saw through my intentions. Admirable, truly admirable!"
In truth, Blaine had only guessed it at that moment.
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