Ch: 185-192
185. Locke's Photo Album
Locke originally thought the month leading up to the knowledge competition would be the most exhausting.
He was clearly too optimistic.
In these five days of preparing for the election, Locke could swear that riding a horse from one end of Texas to the other wasn't as tiring as these past few days.
And this exhaustion wasn't physical; it was mental.
"Click!"
"Good, good, good, come on, turn around."
"..."
Wearing a well-tailored suit and classic cowboy boots, Locke was silent for a moment, then silently turned around as the photographer instructed, and looked at Gwen not far away: "Do we really need to take so many photos? I feel like we've already taken at least a hundred."
Betty, holding a stack of documents, smiled beside him: "Your handsomeness is your advantage; we need to fully utilize it."
Locke's mouth twitched: "For example?"
Cindy, who had followed along, smiled beside him: "My sorority will raise ten thousand US dollars and collaborate with Betty's media department to compile these photos into an album to sell to students and girls from other schools in New York City. Trust me, it's a good business. With this venture, the student council won't lack funds after you take office; hosting a party once a month won't be a problem."
Moreover, these photos could also help garner votes from girls.
A win-win!
Locke's brow twitched as he looked at Gwen: "You also think this is a good idea?"
This was practically selling his good looks.
And... who knew what those girls would do with his photos? They wouldn't just, you know, use them for *that*, or stick his photos over their boyfriends' faces, would they?
Gwen spread her hands: "Being able to bring funds to the student council is a huge bonus point."
The reason Nina Bell became vice president last year was because she secured sponsorships from the off-campus Animal Protection Association and Human Rights Association.
Betty added: "And, I heard that these two associations announced this year that as long as Nina Bell can become president, they will increase their sponsorship funds."
This was news that had come out two days ago.
The subtext of this statement was clear: if she successfully takes office, the sponsorship will increase; if she doesn't, then whether they can maintain the current level of support is another matter.
"Because of this, most of the graduating students this year have basically sided with Nina Bell. I heard that because Nina Bell privately promised that if she's elected, the graduation ball for this year's graduates will be held directly at the Hilton Hotel's ballroom."
"So."
Cindy looked at Locke: "You must win. This small sacrifice is worth it. You don't want to see the school messed up by those two so-called associations, do you?"
Locke opened his mouth, his gaze falling on Gwen.
Gwen, in turn, fixed her beautiful, seemingly speaking eyes on Locke: "I heard Mrs. Cord yesterday say that Nina Bell is also full of confidence. Before the election even began, she already submitted a proposal to the school board, which, despite being called a proposal, was essentially accusing Midtown High of needing to immediately implement affirmative action education."
Locke raised an eyebrow!
Well, well, well.
The federal student management committee was not like the emasculated student councils in the East. The Midtown High student council could directly participate in the daily management of the school with the school's administration.
The main reason Locke was attracted to Midtown High wasn't because of its name, but because the number of a certain demographic at Midtown High was the lowest in all of New York City.
What if they implemented affirmative action there?
Damn it.
Would the air at Midtown High even be breathable then?
Wouldn't it just turn into a cesspool?
Locke looked at the photographer: "Do I need to take off my shirt for a few shots?"
The photographer, whose orientation was somewhat unclear, brightened up.
Gwen's face, however, instantly darkened.
Taking photos with clothes on was her bottom line after Cindy and Betty convinced her.
Taking off his clothes?
Don't even think about it.
Locke didn't really mind, but seeing Gwen's insistent, almost dangerous, gaze, he gave up on the idea.
In the afternoon.
In an unused office.
Campaign posters.
Campaign badges.
Everything was in place. After Gwen checked these items, Locke signed his name on the bill. The school would pay for these items.
Cindy walked in, talking on the phone: "It's done. A sister's father's brother owns a factory in New Jersey. They'll work overtime, and Locke's photo album samples will be ready by tomorrow morning. Then, for mass production, the first batch will be out by the day after tomorrow morning."
"The day after tomorrow?"
"Sunday?"
"Yes."
"Perfect. Then, I'll give one to each of my sorority sisters, and next week, when the campaign officially kicks off, we'll set up a purchase point and just wait for the profits to roll in."
Cindy said with certainty, then looked at Locke: "Now, your handsome face will appear in the bedrooms of every girl in New York between sixteen and twenty-one."
Every?
Sixteen to twenty-one?
Girls?
Bedrooms?
Betty teased from the side: "It's not necessarily just girls; some boys might like them too."
Cindy's eyes lit up: "Oh, really? So, our estimate was too low?"
Betty hummed in agreement.
The two went back and forth.
Locke's brow throbbed faintly, and then, with a hint of helplessness, he looked at Gwen.
Gwen's expression also seemed a bit blank.
It seemed... she hadn't anticipated the scene Cindy had just described.
Now?
Gwen snapped back to reality, opened her mouth, and looked at Locke, as if saying, I regret it.
Locke chuckled, then gave Gwen a look that said: "I'm just following my campaign manager's arrangements."
Gwen was dumbfounded.
In the evening.
During dinner, Helen, seeing Gwen's conflicted expression, curiously asked what was wrong.
Then... after listening, Helen seemed quite interested: "Locke's photo album, huh? It must be great. I'll pre-order one too."
"No!"
"Absolutely not."
Locke, sitting there eating lemon perch, and the two background figures watched Gwen and George almost simultaneously say no.
George nearly spat out his wine, glared fiercely at Locke, then looked at Helen: "My dear, let's not get involved in this nonsense."
Locke looked at George's glaring eyes, feeling a bit speechless.
This wasn't his idea.
Although he would get three-tenths of the final profits, the mastermind behind this was his campaign manager, Gwen, and it had nothing to do with him.
Gwen sided with her father this time, saying to her mother Helen with exasperation: "Mom, don't get involved. I already regret it."
The thought of her boyfriend's photos appearing in the bedrooms of ninety percent of female students in New York City, and the possibility of them, you know, using those photos for *that*?
If her own mother... Oh my goodness!
Gwen was completely numb.
Helen looked at the excited father and daughter and laughed heartily: "Locke is indeed excellent. If I were Locke's age, I would also li—"
Gwen snapped back, completely speechless: "Mom."
After speaking.
Gwen immediately put down her fork, grabbed Locke by the arm, and ran upstairs: "We're full, you two take your time."
If she didn't leave soon, Gwen felt that Locke's life might be in danger; her dad's right hand was already on his hip.
Gwen's room.
Thud.
After Gwen pulled Locke into the room, she turned around and, with a click, locked the door, as if something outside was trying to snatch Locke away from her.
Their eyes met.
Feelings warmed.
Just then, ding-a-ling, Gwen's phone rang.
It was Cindy.
"Hello."
"Gwen, get on the school forum. Damn it, that black b*tch is getting too impatient."
"..."
Listening to Cindy's somewhat angry voice on the phone, Gwen was slightly stunned. She seemed to think of something and looked up at Locke.
A moment later.
The computer screen displayed the Midtown High school forum interface. Among them, the most popular post was about Locke.
In this post, similar to when someone exposed Sam Malik, the description was not direct but used the same method, written from a third-person perspective.
Moreover... seemingly to indicate that this post was not targeting Locke, it was directly titled, "A Review of the Two Main Candidates for This Year's Student Council President."
The section about Locke was heavily biased. It stated that Locke was born in Texas, and when introducing Texas, it emphasized that it was a Republican stronghold. It even introduced the schools Locke had previously attended, and then, when talking about interesting facts about these two schools, it mentioned that both schools had been protested by "little black people."
Then, when it came to the New York section, Locke living in the Star Tower was also brought up. Undoubtedly, the interesting fact that the Star Tower was under litigation 300 out of 365 days a year was also mentioned.
After that came last year's chemistry knowledge competition and this year's Twelve Champions Cup. It was the same tactic used against Sam Malik, posting photos, all of a single skin tone.
When it started to review and introduce Nina Bell, it became much more interesting.
If one didn't look closely, it would seem that the poster was truly impartial, but upon closer inspection, one would find that it heavily focused on describing Nina Bell's various activities, especially the so-called affirmative action activities.
If separated, it might not be obvious, but if put together, it was clear that even though the article didn't explicitly mention discrimination.
But clearly.
He was accusing Locke of discrimination.
Gwen's face instantly turned serious.
Locke, however, smiled.
Just then.
"Ding-a-ling!"
Locke took out his phone and raised an eyebrow.
It was Sam Malik!
186. I Am From the Lone Star Republic
"Malik?"
"Locke, look..."
"I'm looking."
"...Sorry!"
Sam Malik on the other end of the phone paused slightly, then gave a wry smile: "I thought she would be sensible after I withdrew and fully supported you."
Locke curled his lips: "Obviously, she is not sensible. But when has this type ever been sensible?"
Just look at the leader, Nick Fury.
He has little ability and a lot of messy operations. What else can he do besides moral coercion? He is incompetent, and even the name he chose for his team is so cowardly.
Avengers?
To put it plainly, doesn't that mean you have to be beaten up first before you can seek revenge?
If he had named it the Defenders League, Locke would have thought highly of Nick Fury, and subsequently thought highly of that type.
"What are you planning to do?"
"What, are you planning to help me?"
"If I can help."
Sam Malik said seriously: "Because of my family, it's not good for me to get involved in these overt matters. But helping you is equal to helping me, so, yes, if there is anything I can do to help, I will do everything possible."
Locke smiled dismissively: "Thanks. If I need you, I'll let you know."
"Then what are you planning to..."
"I am from the Lone Star State!"
"..."
To be precise, the Lone Star Republic.
In 1845, Texas accepted the U.S. joining the Republic of Texas, not the other way around.
The Lone Star State is a state name that makes even White Leftists tremble when they hear it!
The previous governor was directly impeached because he talked too little about White Leftists and Texas independence.
It's the same old story.
He is a person from the Lone Star State, and discrimination is standard practice!
However... this Sam Malik is interesting.
Sam Malik's father is indeed named Gideon Malik, and he has an older sister named Stephanie Malik. Yes, that is the Malik family of HYDRA.
But.
Sam Malik seems completely incompatible with HYDRA.
Is Sam Malik, like Baron Strucker's son, completely unaware of his family's true endeavors?
Locke thought to himself.
He looked up.
What greeted him was Gwen's gaze, full of belief and unconditional trust.
Locke raised an eyebrow: "I thought there should be worry on your face."
Gwen shook her head: "No, I believe in you."
Locke looked at Gwen, who had turned into his little fangirl, opened his mouth, and pointed outside the door: "I have to go. A package was delivered to the wrong address, and I need to go retrieve it."
Gwen acknowledged: "Remember to look at the samples tomorrow."
"Alright."
Locke nodded.
He was indeed going to see Chester, rather than summoning the Peerless Assassin to enter the arena and strike from the outside.
It wasn't time for outside interference yet.
The relationship between the Peerless Assassin and Locke could not deepen. He now had a gun license, and unless necessary, anything the Peerless Assassin did would be completely separated from Locke's involvement.
Furthermore.
Sometimes, watching people court death and the process of their self-destruction is actually quite enjoyable for Locke, just like watching a movie, but one where Locke already knows the ending.
Locke found Klint Chester, entrusted him with a task, then went next door to check on Carrie, chatted for a while, and returned to Starlight Tower to sleep.
The next day.
A factory in New Jersey.
"Wow."
"Exquisite!"
"Perfect."
"Gentleman!"
"..."
Cindy and Betty exclaimed repeatedly as they looked at the Locke photo albums being bound and assembled at the factory.
Gwen watched from the side, her eyebrows twitching: "Hey, hey, that's enough, you two. Can you please wipe up your drool? You both have boyfriends."
Cindy didn't look up: "Who told you to move so fast? Locke enrolled on the first day, and you snatched him up that same afternoon."
Gwen couldn't help but say: "What do you mean I snatched Locke up? It was clearly..."
Cindy turned around and gave Gwen a 'come on' look: "Before Locke, were you ever that proactive with any transfer student? Dear, so-called love at first sight is just lust. Just admit it."
Gwen opened her mouth and immediately changed the subject: "Fine, you've looked enough. Let's talk business. Has the venue for the campaign rally been settled?"
Once this weekend passes, the half-month election period for the student council president begins.
Fifteen days of campaigning, three speeches, and the results announced after the final speech. The handover happens in May, and the official start of the term is in June.
Time is tight.
The task is heavy.
Cindy nodded: "Don't worry, the Football Team members have already set up the tables and everything. They will also come to the school tomorrow afternoon to post the posters. Locke's campaign posters will be posted at their training ground too."
There are many female students at Midtown High School who like the quarterback.
After all, some female students are quite generous with their affection. They might call Sam Malik their weekday male god, and Locke their weekend male god.
Betty also added: "Campus Media is ready. On Monday, the headline of the campus newspaper will be Locke's winning interview, and the radio broadcast at noon will also announce the results of the competition."
Then.
Betty looked at Locke: "Locke, I withstood a lot of pressure for you. Nina Bell's supporters actually threatened me."
Locke looked at Betty curiously: "Threatened you?"
Betty shrugged.
It couldn't exactly be called a threat. After all, Nina Bell is the student council vice president. When she saw that there was no movement from the campus radio, TV, or newspaper after the Knowledge Competition ended, she naturally knew that Betty had sided with Locke.
It was the same idea.
This was an overt plot.
Betty simply pushed back by saying the layout was being done, the copy was being prepared, and the video was being edited.
In fact.
Betty sighed: "For your sake, I had to reluctantly fire a beautiful female host from our media team."
It was because Betty suddenly discovered that the woman was causing trouble.
Betty investigated later and discovered, good heavens, that the woman's boyfriend was Black and supported Nina Bell because if Nina Bell promoted equal rights, he, with his poor grades, could graduate without having to miserably earn those annoying credits.
He could receive preferential treatment simply because of his skin color.
As for the exposé on the forum yesterday, neither Betty nor Cindy mentioned it.
They were about to go to war; talking about those things now was meaningless.
Moreover.
Locke's stable and confident demeanor, as if victory was already in his hands, gave people a feeling of reliability and security.
In fact, Locke thought so too.
Nina Bell could use this method to force Sam Malik to withdraw from the election. This was partly due to Sam Malik's own reasons and partly due to public opinion.
But Locke was different.
First, he is a Texan.
Second, he is the champion.
Sam Malik was worried primarily that public opinion would turn against him, damaging his reputation, especially since he likely intends to pursue a political career, and because he failed to lead the Football Team to victory.
But Locke won the championship.
Nina Bell could accuse Sam Malik of being discriminatory against Black people, which supposedly led to the loss.
But she couldn't accuse Locke.
In a competition, being weak is the original sin. If you lose, no matter what people say, you have no grounds to argue. But if you win, it's a different story entirely.
Not to mention, Locke achieved a comprehensive Grand Slam victory.
A new week begins.
Midtown High School.
"Beep!"
Twelfth grader Nina Bell, with an expectant look, drove the Ford car—which she had privately received compensation for last year after accusing the auto company of discrimination—into the parking lot.
What a beautiful day.
This would be the starting point for her to bring freedom and equality to Midtown High School.
But... the moment Nina Bell drove into the parking lot, she instantly noticed a banner already being hung up with the help of several Football Team members.
Locke Broughton, the Spokesperson for Wisdom and Courage!]
[Handsome Suit Photo!]
"What?"
Nina Bell, who is six feet tall, weighs 265 pounds, has dark skin, and wears full dreadlocks, was momentarily stunned. She slammed open her car door and walked towards them: "What are you doing? Take it down! Damn it, Locke Broughton has already withdrawn from the election."
The article she had commissioned was very clear.
If Locke didn't want to be branded a discriminator, he would obediently choose to withdraw, just like Sam Malik.
Otherwise.
If she swung her discrimination cudgel, it would lead to social death.
But now?
Nina Bell's face darkened as she watched the several White people ignore her, though her naturally dark complexion hid it well.
How dare he!
Is he crazy?
Nina Bell took a deep breath, looking at the hung banner, suppressing the urge to tear it down immediately. In her ear, the clear voice of the campus radio recounted the inspiring story of Locke Broughton's Grand Slam victory as she walked toward the rest corridor.
Her campaign manager, a Black woman of the same skin color as her, rushed up when she saw Nina Bell enter: "Damn it, didn't he see our article?"
Nina Bell's expression was poor: "Apparently, he didn't."
Based on the experience Nina Bell had gained following her parents over the years, as long as they raised the banner of discrimination, they would always succeed and move forward without hindrance.
Locke Broughton should have been the same.
"I'm giving you one last chance to beg for mercy!"
Nina Bell threw her Chanel backpack—which she had also obtained through discrimination—into her locker and looked at her campaign manager: "Where is Broughton's campaign venue set up?"
187. Nina Bell's Plan
"You're Broughton."
"..."
In the gym, Locke sat at his campaign table shaking hands with every student who came to support him. During the break, a dark blur suddenly shot up in front of him and left him dazed.
The way this black girl spoke felt almost surreal.
Since when… had black people become this arrogant?
Locke still remembered Texas. Back then, there had been black people.
Yes, there had.
But the ones there kept a low profile, faithfully obeying their 'Seventeen Rules for Staying Safe'.
There you'd never see a Black person with hands in pockets, or in a hooded sweatshirt, or in a tank top, or looking at a white girl, or wearing a hip-hop bandana—never.
It had been paradise!
But now?
Morals really were slipping; every day was worse than the last.
Thinking this, Locke already knew who the girl was.
Nina Bell.
Locke looked at the furious, corn-rowed girl reeking of the particular grime of black skin mixed with cheap perfume, and frowned. "Who are you?"
Nina Bell froze.
In an instant
all her momentum vanished.
The next second
she introduced herself: "Nina Bell, vice-president of the student council. You should call me senior, classmate Broughton."
Locke regarded her with mild amazement.
Sure enough,
someone like Nick Fury was the IQ ceiling for their kind; most probably had the same brains and EQ as this Nina Bell—
equally clueless.
"Something on your mind?""
"Yes."
Nina Bell said bluntly, "You should withdraw from this election. After I win, I'll nominate you for vice-president."
She knew that in a normal race she had no chance.
But Nina Bell knew her advantage, and, steeped in it, she understood exactly how to exploit it—her breed advantage!
So
she stared at Locke as if threatening: "I know where you live. This is discrimination!"
Locke, every inch the gentleman, looked puzzled. "Where do I live?"
Courtesy and grace are eternal.
Even against an enemy, ruthlessness didn't stop Locke's smile from being warm spring wind.
Anyone with half an ear would have caught his meaning.
Nina Bell showed no such awareness; glancing around, she said, "You live in Starlight Tower."
The reason? Midtown High isn't just for Top Students and over-achievers; some slip in through connections.
In a sense, the school held its nose to let Nina Bell in.
And though she's nominally a twelfth-grader, she's been parked there nearly two semesters—this is her third year as a senior.
The school runs on credits: finish them and you can graduate early, even from ninth grade; otherwise Tony Stark couldn't have become a Caltech honors grad at sixteen.
If your credits aren't done, you don't graduate; you drop out.
Nina Bell was one of those.
In fact
she wasn't truly stupid; if she tried, she could have graduated on time.
But she had her own calculations.
Most of her kind had repeated a grade; if she did too, she'd share their language.
And if she could plant the seeds of "safety" and "protection" at Midtown, win unconditional acceptance for more of her breed, she'd have the résumé to move to a bigger stage.
College? She wouldn't and couldn't go; for their breed, high school was already high education.
University would only create a generation gap.
All this, however, hinged on one thing: becoming student-council president.
Without that title, everything was hot air.
So Nina Bell's fat, ugly lips moved as she stared at Locke: "You'd better quit nicely, or all of New Yorkwill know what you are."
Locke gave a soft laugh.
Just then
"Locke…" Gwen walked in, glanced at Nina Bell, and said to Locke, "I'm done with class. Let's hit the cafeteria."
Locke came back to himself, looked at Gwen, then smiled at Nina Bell: "I'm looking forward to your speech, Nina Bell!"
Nina Bell? Locke would never acknowledge that species as a classmate, let alone a senior. In fact, he hadn't even called her a lady—how could something not human be called a lady?
Done.
Locke turned and left with Gwen.
'What did she say to you?'
'Asked if I knew where I lived.'
'I heard some classmates saw her planting a recorder in the bathroom, so I rushed over. I was afraid she'd provoke you into saying something you shouldn't. She didn't get to you, did she?'
'She did.'
From the moment Nina Bell opened her mouth—no, from the instant she appeared in front of him—she'd been trying to provoke him non-stop.
Gwen hesitated, on the verge of saying something as she looked at Locke.
Locke smiled. 'Relax. Whether I get angry doesn't depend on whether she can provoke me, but on whether she's even qualified to make me angry.'
Clearly,
Nina Bell had been trying to provoke him from the second she entered his line of sight.
But… she wasn't qualified to make Locke angry.
Gwen exhaled in relief. 'Tomorrow's the first speech. As long as she has no hard evidence, she can't beat you.'
Gwen realized she'd fallen into a misconception.
At Midtown High, species like Nina Bell were rare—barely five percent of the student body, far fewer than in Brooklyn or Queens.
So what if she offended them?
They'd never vote for Locke anyway. As for discrimination?
Only wage-slaves worry that discrimination will cost them their jobs.
Capitalists can still make money while discriminating.
Therefore,
Gwen faintly sensed she now understood why Locke wasn't afraid at all.
But… once again, her imagination had nothing to do with what Locke was actually thinking.
There was one point that almost aligned:
A capitalist can profit even while discriminating—or rather, a true capitalist can profit from discrimination itself.
In truth, Nina Bell knew her strengths and, naturally, her weaknesses.
In this regard, she was no fool.
After Locke ignored her, an infuriated Nina Bell cornered a classmate and laid out her plan.
She spoke with a stutter; if she had to share a stage with her rival in a speech, she'd have no chance.
But… what?
The black kid she'd cornered stared wide-eyed after hearing the plan, looking incredulous. 'You want me to report that Locke Broughton physically attacked me and discriminated against my species? Are you out of your damn mind, or did mercury seep into your brain?'
Nina shook her head. 'No, I'm sane, and no mercury's in me.'
She took her daily dose—happy and healthy—keeping her energized. Her parents had taught her: only with the drug could they devote themselves fanatically to anti-discrimination work.
The kid's eyes bulged. 'Why the hell would I do that? Do you know Locke Broughton's status at school?'
Their species barely qualified to breathe the same air as Locke, let alone interact. Most students couldn't even enter his circle. His social orbit was tiny: either Top Students or academic stars. Ordinary kids knew better than to push in.
So… "You want me to accuse Locke Broughton of species discrimination and assault? I'm not even qualified to meet him—who'd believe such a ridiculous claim?"
'Truth doesn't matter.'
'Easy for you to say—only thing elastic on you is your backside.'
The kid showed Nina Bell no courtesy; they were the same species, after all. 'You lecherous fat pig, trying to use me as your gun? Want to get me expelled?'
He knew he wouldn't graduate this year, but after one more round of make-up classes and enough credits, he'd walk next year.
How hard-won that was—his family would finally produce a high-school graduate.
Now someone wanted him to file a species-discrimination complaint?
He might be dim, but he wasn't stupid.
Nina Bell ignored his insults. 'Once that racist living in Starlight Tower becomes student-council president, do you think you'll still live so well? Still find some white girl who worships black guys kneeling in a filthy restroom to praise your big bird?'
There are always girls with twisted psyches, daddy-issues, or a taste for thrills whose aesthetics veer irreversibly off-course.
For such girls, the black kids have a special term.
Black-chasing bitches!
188. You Started It
Right.
This Little Black's current girlfriend is that flashy-looking female host from the school's Media Department, the one who was kicked out by Betty.
Hearing Nina Bell's words, Little Black was slightly stunned: "What do you mean?"
Nina Bell said directly: "You know the reason why you can't join the Football Team, right?"
Upon hearing this, Little Black's face darkened.
But then again.
For those of his kind, no matter how much their faces darkened, they still looked the same as usual.
Nina Bell said: "Sam Malik may have withdrawn from the election, but he has chosen to fully support Locke Broughton. If you help me, then as a promise, once I am elected, I guarantee I will push for reforms in the Football Team. At that time, not only will you be able to play football, but I will even replace Sam Malik with you as Captain when he enters the High School League Super Bowl. Think about it, how will the universities across the country look at you then?"
Most likely, universities across the country would think these two were idiots.
After all... university football scouts aren't fools. From the start of the season, they begin collecting data on outstanding football players from high schools everywhere. Replacing a player halfway through—do they really think people are blind?
In the restaurant.
Locke let out a snort of laughter.
Sitting opposite him, Gwen blinked: "What's wrong?"
Locke snapped back to reality and shook his head: "Nothing."
Gwen looked at Locke curiously.
Locke showed a faint smile and continued to record through the bug placed on Nina Bell while munching on the burger in his hand.
No one understands eavesdropping better than a hitman!
Playing little tricks like eavesdropping and gathering evidence with him—to be frank, although Locke had never used it before, his skills in preventing eavesdropping and tracking were all learned firsthand from Chester.
"How about it?"
Nina Bell didn't notice the tiny black dot, as small as a grain of rice, stuck to her clothes. She looked at the thoughtful Little Black in front of her: "Think about it, not only can you graduate, you could even become an outstanding The Graduate, and you might even be specially admitted to a university, as long as you're willing to help me with this small favor."
Little Black's eyes flickered, seemingly moved.
In the restaurant.
Locke felt the breathing sounds coming from the bug and shook his head inwardly: "There are always some people who like to seek their own death."
No one understood the desire for peaceful times better than Locke, and no one understood the value of life better than Locke.
In fact, every time Locke killed someone, he always felt pity for them. People die when they are killed—it seemed they completely failed to understand such a shallow truth.
Locke shook his head.
After a hurried response that seemed to indicate a decision had been made came through the earpiece, Locke pressed the pause button on the recorder and smiled at Gwen opposite him: "Are watermelons expensive nowadays?"
Gwen blinked: "..."
In the afternoon.
After school, Locke drove to the 37 Wall Street Building.
He got out of the car.
Gwen, seeing Locke drive here, looked around: "Is Lawyer Laun's TNT Law Firm in this building?"
Locke hummed in affirmation.
Twenty-ninth floor!
Ding!
The elevator doors opened.
Lawyer Laun, who had collaborated with him once before, immediately reached out with a face full of smiles when he saw Locke step out of the elevator: "Mr. Broughton, you could have just given me a call, and I would have come to you."
Locke pulled Gwen beside him and smiled: "There's a nice Western restaurant over by the New York Film Academy. After we finish talking, Gwen and I plan to go there for dinner."
Lawyer Laun nodded and made an inviting gesture: "Please."
"Alright."
Locke responded, and under Lawyer Laun's lead, he and Gwen walked into the TNT Law Firm, which had become completely famous after the case Locke had collaborated on.
In the office.
Locke unbuttoned his suit jacket, sat down, took the bourbon Lawyer Laun handed him, and smiled: "I'm still four years away from being twenty-one."
Lawyer Laun also sat down: "Mr. Broughton, please trust in our strength. We have a hundred ways to ensure you won't face any trouble from the police or the courts because of this."
Locke smiled: "I am well aware of Lawyer Laun's capabilities."
Gwen sat beside him without saying a word; she was also curious as to why Locke had come here.
As for drinking?
When Gwen was on the poseidon, she had watched Locke finish off two bottles of thunder bourbon by himself, and he seemed perfectly fine. At most, after drinking, Locke seemed to become more flirtatious.
Anything else?
For instance, all the ugly behaviors and violence after men drink that George had warned Gwen about—she hadn't seen any of it. Since she hadn't seen it, she naturally wouldn't report those merchants selling alcohol to Locke to her father.
Locke took a sip of the drink in his glass and took out a recorder from his coat: "Mr. Laun, you know I've been running for the President of our Student Council recently."
Lawyer Laun said: "Of course. In fact, I even went to watch on the day of the finals. I had originally intended to meet with you, Mr. Broughton."
"Is that so?"
Locke was somewhat surprised. He said thank you and then got down to business: "The person competing with me for this President position seems to plan on using racial discrimination to write some articles against me. I don't know if this recording can prove it, and I'm not sure if this evidence would be effective if it went to court."
Lawyer Laun's eyes lit up.
Go to court?
That meant business was coming.
Lawyer Laun looked at the recorder placed on the table and pointed to it, looking at Locke as if asking if he could listen.
Locke nodded and leaned back on the sofa.
The recording played.
The sound was clear, very clear.
The content was very unsightly, very shameless!
Gwen listened from the side. At first, she was slightly surprised, but then, upon hearing the conversation between Nina Bell and that Little Black, she became entirely furious.
Then.
Gwen looked at Locke, very curious about how this recording was obtained.
Soon.
The sound stopped.
Locke looked at Lawyer Laun sitting opposite him and asked: "How is it?"
Lawyer Laun frowned, then looked at Locke: "Mr. Broughton, were you present at the time?"
Locke shook his head.
Lawyer Laun smiled: "No, you were there, Mr. Broughton. It's just that they didn't notice you."
Locke blinked.
Lawyer Laun perfectly demonstrated the prowess of a top-tier professional lawyer: "Mr. Broughton, this recording was surreptitiously recorded by you; it was not obtained through eavesdropping. Because, without legal procedures, a recording obtained through eavesdropping is not a legal piece of evidence, but one recorded secretly is."
Yes.
The difference between eavesdropping and surreptitious recording was that one was illegal and the other was legal.
Of course.
There is a department whose eavesdropping evidence can also serve as legal evidence.
That is the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Eavesdropping data from the Federal Bureau of Investigation can be recognized as evidence in court.
But... getting eavesdropping data from the Federal Bureau of Investigation was too complicated. Moreover, given the small grudge between Locke and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, it was unlikely they would help with this.
Beside him, Gwen listened to Lawyer Laun's words with some surprise.
At the same time, she wondered if she should have her mother, Helen, change their family lawyer to Lawyer Laun's firm as well.
After all, their family lawyer mostly just provided legal consultation and services. Compared to Laun, who turned clearly illegal evidence into legal evidence in just three sentences, Gwen felt that the lawyer charging a hundred dollars an hour was practically committing robbery.
After finishing, Lawyer Laun looked at Locke: "Mr. Broughton, if I'm not mistaken, do you intend to file a defamation lawsuit against the two people in this recording?"
Locke smiled slightly: "I'm not short of money."
Furthermore, with his current appetite, those two Little Blacks probably couldn't satisfy him even if they sold themselves back to slave owners once more.
In that case, what was the point of asking for money?
Was he short of those few copper coins?
He wanted to crush them completely!
Lawyer Laun naturally understood Locke's underlying meaning. He nodded and looked at the recorder in his hand: "Very well, I'll have my assistant file and archive this recording first."
Locke drained his glass, stood up, buttoned his jacket, and shook hands with Lawyer Laun with a smile: "Thank you for the trouble, Lawyer Laun."
"You're welcome. I'll see you out."
"Thanks."
After finishing dinner.
When Gwen returned home, she greeted Helen and George and then went back to her Room.
Sitting in the living Room, Helen looked at Gwen, who seemed to have something on her mind, and glanced at George, signaling with her eyes.
George put down the newspaper in his hand and went straight upstairs.
Knock, knock, knock!
"Come in."
Sitting at her computer desk, Gwen looked at George as he pushed the door open and asked curiously: "Dad, is something wrong?"
George said: "Can I come in?"
"...Of course."
Gwen was slightly stunned. Looking at George as he walked in, she asked suspiciously: "Did I do something wrong?"
Normally, George wouldn't come to her Room.
After all, she was a grown girl.
The only person who could stay overnight here was Locke.
Mmhmm.
George smiled: "Of course not. How could my daughter do anything wrong? Even if something happened, it certainly wasn't your fault."
Gwen looked at George with some suspicion.
George looked at the daughter he was equally proud of, lowering his posture to a certain level, and said with a smile: "Locke has done some things you might not be able to understand again, hasn't he? Whatever it is, maybe I can give you some advice."
Gwen: "..."
189. I didn't plan to give a speech at all
Gwen opened her mouth.
After a moment, she still told George about Locke and her visit to the Laun Law Firm today.
George was also a bit dazed after hearing it.
They really know how to have fun.
Speaking of which, if this were ten years ago, no, if this were a few years ago, what little Black person would dare to play like this? Ten years ago... forget it.
George shook his head internally and looked at Gwen: "So, you think Locke's approach is a bit too serious?"
That phrase, 'it doesn't cost money,' already made one thing clear.
Locke intended to make a big deal out of this.
And George also believed that Locke could indeed make a big deal out of it. The Federation is a money-driven society. With money, let alone having solid evidence right now, even without it, it's too easy to get someone into prison.
But Gwen shook her head: "No."
George was slightly taken aback: "Then what is it?"
Gwen looked up at George: "I just feel like I don't have the ability to help Locke with this matter."
George: "..."
Where's my gun?
Where's the gun I just bought for hunting?
MMP.
I shouldn't have come up.
George felt a pang of jealousy. Seeing his little cabbage being carried off by a wild boar, leaving him in the dust, was one thing. But he even had to speak on behalf of that wild boar.
And... when he thought about having to pay for the wedding and even the honeymoon in the future.
George felt unwell all over.
Gwen watched George sway in place, then got up and supported him: "Dad, are you okay?"
George waved his hand, his heart still relieved.
Thank goodness.
His daughter still cared about him.
Forget it.
George sighed, his thoughts racing several times. Then, he gestured to Gwen, and after Gwen sat down again, he said: "You don't need to help him with anything."
Gwen looked at George, a little confused.
George said: "All you need to do is believe in him. Just like when I was a detective, every time I went on a mission, I knew your mom was worried about me, but she always said she believed in me."
Gwen blinked.
George opened his mouth.
Defeated.
A moment later.
Helen, with a smile, knocked on Gwen's door, then glared fiercely at George and, with a thud, came over to take over.
The next day.
Campaign speech day.
"Good morning, Locke."
"Good morning."
Locke watched Gwen, full of youthful energy, open the passenger door. He kissed her, started the car, and said as they drove towards Midtown High: "You're very happy today, Gwen."
Gwen turned her face, smiling as she looked at Locke: "I suddenly understood something."
Locke smiled: "Oh really, what is it?"
Gwen tilted her head: "I will read you carefully. I will definitely understand you."
Locke: "..."
Last night, Gwen talked to her mother, Helen. Her mother told her that it was normal for her to feel this way. After all, ever since she was little, Gwen had always liked to be in control, and Gwen's confidence was built on this foundation.
But when she encountered things she couldn't control, naturally, Gwen would have this kind of bewildered psychology.
This was very normal.
Helen said that unless you were willing to find a soft-spoken boyfriend who would listen to your every command, this was bound to happen sooner or later.
When Gwen thought about finding a soft-spoken boyfriend, she immediately shook her head. Then, she thought of her father and sought advice from Helen.
Helen also told Gwen.
You're a bit bewildered right now because you haven't read your book. Love, in fact, is giving you this time for both parties to understand each other. Once you understand each other, both parties' confidence will be established. This is called marriage.
So... Gwen's eyes sparkled, and she smiled as she looked at Locke: "I will definitely understand you as quickly as possible."
She was a straight-A student.
When it came to reading, she had unparalleled confidence.
When Helen said that, Gwen had an epiphany. It was like the first time she had an exam; she was very nervous. Then, she studied hard, and by the time of the exam, her nervousness was gone.
Locke was the same.
Right now, Gwen didn't understand because she hadn't read him. Once she finished reading and understood, Gwen believed that day wouldn't be far. She set a goal for herself.
Four years!
To spend four years understanding Locke.
By then... they would be twenty-one.
Locke looked at Gwen, whose eyes sparkled with little stars, looking as if she couldn't wait to read him right now. He felt a little flustered and laughed: "Alright, my book is open to you all day, every day."
It's over.
The father-in-law wants to understand the Peerless Assassin.
Gwen wants to understand him.
Don't panic.
Absolutely don't panic. Let alone not being exposed yet, even if he is exposed, Locke said he can control the whole situation.
After all... he's a player, and a player with cheats enabled.
Midtown High School.
In the parking lot.
As Locke and Gwen got out of the car, they saw Sam Malik, who seemed to have been waiting in the parking lot for a long time.
"Locke!"
Sam tossed his cigarette butt, walked over, nodded to Gwen next to him as a greeting, then looked at Locke, extending a hand of friendship: "I'm really looking forward to your campaign speech."
Locke smiled and shook Sam's hand: "I didn't prepare a speech."
He really hadn't prepared one.
Because after Nina Bell used a discrimination card on Sam, he knew that this discrimination card would eventually be thrown at him.
Locke had originally planned to play for a while.
But play what?
Childish games, what's the point? Finish the mission early, get the reward, and then play. It's not too late.
So... he didn't intend to give a campaign speech.
Two people need a campaign speech.
One person?
No need for a speech, just an internal appointment, and take office!
Anyway, his approval rating was already... Locke blinked and looked at his campaign manager: "What was my approval rating again?"
Gwen said: "Sixty-five!"
It was originally sixty-seven, but after the news broke that Locke lived in the Star Tower, it instantly dropped by two percentage points. After all, in this era, some students' parents teach their children to say they are mixed-race if they encounter 'breed' issues at school.
Locke spread his hands towards Sam Malik: "See, I can win without a speech."
As he spoke.
Locke seemed to think of something and looked at Sam: "Oh, by the way, thank you for that recorder yesterday."
Sam was slightly taken aback: "You're welcome."
Gwen next to him glanced at Sam Malik.
So that recorder was his.
Gwen thought to herself.
Locke smiled and said to Gwen next to him: "Let's go, let's end this farce."
Finish in the morning, give a few witty remarks at the inauguration speech in the afternoon, and by evening, the pre-ordered tens of thousands of points in rewards would be credited.
Principal's office.
When Locke and Gwen arrived at the principal's office corridor, they happened to see Nina Bell and the little Black person she had incited, also coming from the other side.
Nina Bell was slightly taken aback when she saw Locke approaching.
Locke smiled: "What a coincidence."
Nina Bell's thick lips stretched into a grin like an ape's: "If you've come to make peace, I'm sorry, it's too late. I gave you a chance."
As she spoke.
Nina Bell, like a heavy tank, lifted her hips and pushed open the principal's office door.
The principal, who was working inside, was startled and looked displeased at Nina Bell entering. But then he saw Locke and Gwen following behind and immediately broke into a smile.
Twelve trophies, a Grand Slam. The education funds for New York State in the second half of the year allocated to Midtown High were a very generous sum.
For Midtown High, Locke and Gwen were two money trees. They had spent a lot of money to buy these two money trees, and as long as they shook them, they wouldn't lose money.
As for Nina Bell and the little Black person next to her?
At most, they were dirt... no.
At most, they were black fertilizer. There was nothing to be done. Even Midtown High, in this tide, could only hold its nose and accept a few symbolic 'breeds,' treating them as black fertilizer. As long as they didn't cause trouble, whatever happened, happened.
"Locke."
"Gwen."
The principal looked at Locke and Gwen as they entered and said with a smile: "You're here. Have you encountered any problems with the campaign speech this afternoon? Just say so, and the school will try its best to solve them."
Nina Bell directly interrupted: "Mr. Principal, I came in first."
The principal waved his hand at Nina Bell behind him without turning his head. If it weren't for concerns about appearances, and if the school board considered Nina Bell a clown not worth dealing with, then one of Midtown High's school board members was a shareholder in Blackwater.
Locke smiled slightly: "Principal, actually, I came today to say that the campaign speech this afternoon is meaningless. Can it be changed to an inauguration speech?"
Nina Bell heard this and immediately laughed: "Locke Broughton, it's too late to withdraw now. I gave you..."
"Knock, knock, knock!"
The door was knocked.
The principal looked at the person standing at the door and frowned: "You are... Busen Laun?"
Locke also stood up at this moment: "Mr. Principal, this is Mr. Busen Laun, the senior lawyer of my legal team!"
The principal was slightly taken aback.
Nina Bell over there was also a little stunned.
As for the little Black person, he was even more directly dumbfounded.
Busen Laun walked in, shook hands with the principal, and then looked at the heavy tank, Nina Bell: "Are you Nina Bell?"
Nina came to her senses: "I am. Who are you?"
I am Black.
I fear nothing.
Busen Laun took a subpoena from his pocket and handed it directly to Nina Bell: "This is a subpoena from the Manhattan Upper East Side Civil Court. Please appear promptly at 3 PM this afternoon."
Nina Bell was stunned: "Appear? Appear for what?"
The principal also frowned.
But... Busen Laun took out the recorder and played it.
The principal.
Had an epiphany!
190. Solve the problem
Half an hour later, the news that Nina Bell had been temporarily suspended and withdrawn from the student council president election was broadcast directly to the entire school by Betty from the broadcast station, her voice barely concealing her excitement.
Along with the school's decision to suspend Nina Bell, the broadcast also revealed that Nina Bell had conspired with others to falsely accuse Locke.
In the principal's office.
Nina Bell's face was no longer dark, but livid, as she looked at Locke, who stood with his hands in his pockets, impeccably dressed in a suit. Her teeth were itching with frustration, and she almost gritted them as she said to the principal, "This is slander! I never said that. This is fabricated. And even if it were true, so what? I was just joking with him. He was eavesdropping; it won't be admissible."
Locke smiled.
Lawyer Laun, expressionless like a mechanical legal machine, interjected, "Correction, wiretapping is not admissible, but eavesdropping can be used as evidence in some cases, for example, when it involves the legitimate rights and interests of my client. Moreover, the court has already agreed to admit and accept this recording as evidence."
Locke also said expressionlessly, "I never joke with strangers, nor do I like strangers joking with me, especially you."
Nina Bell breathed heavily.
Suddenly, Locke had a feeling that the air quality in the entire office had become somewhat murky, even foul, in that instant.
Locke frowned and looked at Lawyer Laun, "The rest is up to you, Lawyer Laun."
Lawyer Laun nodded, "Understood, Mr. Broughton. If Nina Bell does not appear in court on time this afternoon, I will immediately apply to the court for a mandatory arrest warrant to prevent her from fleeing."
Nina Bell's eyes widened, "This is a civil case, not a criminal case!"
Lawyer Laun's expression remained devoid of emotion, "Whether it is or not is up to the court, not you."
Others might not be able to manipulate things, but he was a top lawyer!
Locke nodded to the principal, then left the office with Gwen.
Outside the office door.
Locke took a deep breath, completely disregarding whether those inside could hear him, "The air quality outside is so much better, filled with a sweet scent, unlike inside, where even the smell of a garbage dump is better than that foulness."
Inside the office, Nina Bell clenched her fists and looked at the principal, "Mr. Principal, isn't Mr. Broughton's remark a form of discrimination?"
"Is it?"
"What?"
The principal pushed up his glasses, a look of complete ignorance on his face as he looked at Nina Bell, "Ms. Bell, you have been temporarily suspended. Midtown High School will not tolerate any criminal behavior. You have half an hour to pack your belongings, and then, leave the school."
Good students.
Bad students.
Which one the school liked, and which one it chose to side with, was never a multiple-choice question.
"See?"
As they went down the stairs, Locke smiled at Gwen, "The problem has been solved."
Very clear.
Very perfect.
If you can't solve the problem, you can solve the person who raised the problem. Rounding it off, it can be considered a perfect solution to the problem.
Gwen pondered, "You must have thought of solving it this way ever since you allied with Sam Malik, right?"
Locke chuckled, "I just adapt to circumstances, Gwen."
When faced with a problem, don't panic. As our ancestors said, there are always more solutions than problems.
Gwen rolled her eyes, "You could have told me."
Locke raised an eyebrow, looking at Gwen, a little surprised, "I thought you'd already guessed?"
Gwen looked up at the faint smile behind Locke's surprised expression, "..."
What did that mean?
Are you questioning my intelligence?
Gwen watched Locke's lips curve into an uncontrollable smile. Without being taught, she raised her right hand, preparing to transform it into a pair of pliers and grab at Locke's waist.
Locke twisted his waist.
"...You stop right there."
"No."
"...Fine, you said it. I'm busy this weekend and can't come to your place."
"..."
Locke turned around, looking at Gwen, who had stopped chasing and whose face was filled with the consequences of her ultimatum. He opened his mouth, then stood rooted to the spot, unmoving.
Gwen smiled and walked forward.
The next second.
Locke sighed.
There was nothing he could do; this was an ultimate move, and a targeted one at that. How could he dodge it?
Back in the classroom.
They were met with applause from all directions.
Flasi, even more dramatically, rolled up a book into a microphone, stood on a desk, and declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, now entering is the president of our Midtown High School Student Council, Locke! Broughton!!!"
"Awesome, Locke!"
"Congratulations, Locke!"
"Fantastic."
"I love you, Locke!"
"..."
Gwen glared at a few giggling female classmates in the classroom, asserting her ownership.
With Nina Bell directly suspended, it was clear that Locke, now without a rival, was a shoe-in to become the new student council president in June.
All that remained was a necessary formality.
Just an inauguration speech.
In other words, as the winner, he would meet with his classmates and elaborate on the measures and strategies he would implement for the student council after taking office.
To put it plainly, it was his so-called political platform.
Locke had already thought this through.
If an official cannot serve their own... bah!
If becoming president meant he couldn't secure benefits for students, then he might as well step down early and go plant potatoes on Long Island.
In a word.
Exams, many exams, more exams—this would be Locke's main reform work for the student council.
In a more understandable language, it meant: achievement points, potential points. How could the position of student council president help him earn more achievement points and potential points?
It was when he understood what Nina Bell wanted to do if she became president that he suddenly realized that the position of student council president was not, in fact, a tasteless and regrettable chicken rib for him.
If handled well, this position could completely help him form a task chain that would allow him to repeatedly earn points for at least the next two years.
For example... communicating with student councils of various universities in New York City, and even with student councils of universities in rural New Jersey across the river, to jointly organize a university student council alliance knowledge competition.
Monthly competitions.
Quarterly competitions.
League competitions.
All of them would be arranged.
If this matter succeeded, then within a year, he would, out of nowhere, gain at least tens of thousands of basic point rewards.
As for how to persuade the other schools, Locke already had a preliminary idea in mind.
While smilingly accepting congratulations and blessings from his classmates, Locke silently revised the preliminary grand blueprint that had formed in his mind for earning task points.
After morning classes.
Locke was about to put his books back in his locker and wait for Gwen to go to the cafeteria together when he was stopped by Sam Malik again.
Sam Malik's expression was a bit strange.
Locke closed his locker and looked at him curiously.
"Nina Bell was escorted out by two campus security guards."
"I know."
Nina Bell had originally intended to stay in school, but she hadn't considered one problem: previously, she could act out because the board of directors simply didn't care about her. After all, a minor, no matter how much she acted out, was at most a clown.
Just like that "How dare you" girl in Europe in his previous life.
The reason she was so frantic was simply that no one cared.
Now?
Locke indicated that he cared very much and clearly had no intention of playing games with her. Moreover, Locke's legal team had directly appeared, making their stance clear, and the evidence had been given to the school. Naturally, the school would not be polite to Nina Bell.
Locke smiled at Sam Malik, "Don't worry, I'll remember my promise. But you also have to bring back a championship from the Alliance Bowl. Otherwise, I won't be able to operate the next steps easily."
Sam Malik laughed, "It's called the College Super Bowl, not the Alliance Super Bowl."
"Whatever."
Locke shrugged. He wasn't overly interested in basketball, football, or anything like that.
He was from the Lone Star State; he was a cowboy.
The youngest cowboy!
That was enough.
Sam shook his head, "I suddenly realized, did I surrender too early?"
"Why do you say that?"
"If I hadn't allied with you..."
"It's a surrender. Surrendering means losing half, but it's still a surrender."
"...Whatever. Anyway, if I hadn't come to you, you would still have used this method against that stupid fat pig, whether I was involved or not, right?"
"Pretty much."
"So I lost out?"
"No."
Locke shook his head and looked at Sam, "You would still have lost, and you would still have been accused of discrimination. And I would be the one watching the show, not you."
At that time, Locke was leading Midtown High School to defend the arena.
If Nina Bell had tried to play the discrimination card against Locke first, the school board, which had always been indifferent to her, would probably have stepped in and slapped her to death.
Sam was slightly taken aback, then chuckled, "You're right, why didn't I think of that?"
Locke shrugged, "Because you feel like you lost out?"
Sam laughed heartily, "Locke, if you ever go into politics, I believe we'd make a great team."
"I'm a Republican."
"Am I a Democrat, then?"
Locke and Sam exchanged glances, then smiled.
Democracy?
That was a trick to fool the happy masses.
In the afternoon.
Locke once again appeared in the auditorium, delivering his acceptance speech and plans after becoming president, with an overwhelming approval rating...
191. Killing the heart without shedding blood
Thunderous applause erupted in the auditorium.
On the stage,
Locke, with a smile, was officially crowned President of the High School Student Council.
At the same time!
"Ding!"
"Task Completed: 'I Am the President!'"
"Task Basic Reward: 'Achievement Points * 10,000, Potential Points * 10,000, 90% Off Treasure Refresh Card (Guaranteed to reveal a 90% off treasure)'"
"Task Final Bonus Coefficient: Twenty times!"
"Task Final Reward: 'Achievement Points * 200,000, Potential Points * 200,000, 90% Off Treasure Refresh Card!'"
"Status Refresh:"
"Name: Locke Broughton (Unique Player)"
"Profession: Assassin (Currently switchable to Witch template)"
"Achievement Points: 278,000 (Can be used to purchase items in the Achievement Mall)"
"Potential Points: 280,000 (Can be used to upgrade your skills)"
"Supreme Talent: Extraordinary (Gold Quality / Level 1: My energy is endless!)"
"Transcendent Talent: Resilience (Red Quality / Level 3: Even in battle, your stamina can be continuously restored, and your physique is greatly enhanced once again)"
"Transcendent Skill: Gun-fu (Blue Quality / Level 1: Your marksmanship is not only profound, but also unmatched)"
"Transcendent Skill: Falconry (Advanced: The hawk you train will become your eyes; where your gaze reaches, your thoughts connect, but where is your hawk?)"
"Transcendent Skill: Concealment (Intermediate: As long as you're careful, you can pull off a real-life 'empty house' trick.)"
"Faction: Land of Light (M78 Nebula)"
"Members: 1/1 (Although your energy is endless, the energy you can currently activate can only be shared with one person)"
"Name: Carrie White"
"Profession: Witch"
"Nice!"
Locke looked at his points, which had soared to nearly 300,000 for the first time, and was in a great mood.
Standing on the stage, he looked down at Gwen, who was sitting in the first row and applauding with everyone else, and showed a brilliant smile.
During this student council election, Locke basically did nothing.
Gwen arranged everything for him.
From the election posters to the election of the president, and even the proposals discussed with Betty and Carrie, his campaign manager handled it all.
Without a doubt.
A capable wife.
If Locke wanted to get married, then Gwen would undoubtedly be his wife.
One marries for wisdom!
As he stepped down,
Gwen stood up and looked at Locke approaching, "Congratulations..."
Before she could finish her sentence,
Locke had already pulled her close, lowered his head, and kissed her.
Instantly,
the applause thundered once more, accompanied by various cheers and jeers.
Several teachers who had also come to attend smiled as they watched the scene unfold.
This would be impossible to see if it were in the East.
But... youth is inherently a synonym for passion, and no love is purer or more pristine than campus romance.
What's more... both Locke and Gwen were the pillars of Midtown High School; with them around, Midtown High School couldn't protect them fast enough, let alone destroy this moment that belonged only to Locke and Gwen.
Fortunately, George wasn't there; otherwise, George's eye would probably be twitching again, and if it kept twitching like this, it wouldn't be long before he'd need surgery.
In the evening,
at Chester's Lovers' Restaurant.
Gwen, with a smile, raised her drink and looked at Locke, "Congratulations, Locke."
Locke raised his glass, which appeared to contain water but was actually bourbon, and clinked it with Gwen's, "Thank you, Gwen!"
Gwen took a sip of her drink, tucking her hair back, "So, things are finally over.
Maybe we can call Cindy and Kahn this week and go to an underage bar to relax."
Locke smiled.
"Is it over?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm in another lawsuit, Gwen."
"..."
Gwen thought of Nina Bell, whom Locke had just sued, and looked at Locke, "Oh right, the lawsuit.
What was the outcome today?"
Locke was the plaintiff, but he had a team of lawyers, and his legal team could attend court on his behalf.
As for Nina Bell?
Locke chuckled, "I heard from Lawyer Laun that Nina Bell's lawyer is a human rights lawyer from Queens."
This was a bit ridiculous.
How could they fight if their specializations didn't match?
Furthermore, even if the lawyer's specialization did match, they would probably go weak in the knees the moment they saw Lawyer Laun, immediately thinking about whether they could surrender for half, rather than attempting to compete.
In fact, Nina Bell's human rights lawyer probably said the same thing.
"What was the result?"
"She didn't accept it."
"What?"
Locke looked at a somewhat surprised Gwen and smiled, "That's normal.
After all, this Nina Bell still thinks this game follows the rules of the game as she understands them."
What a pity.
Leaving aside the benefactors, Locke always offered a glimmer of hope.
If Nina Bell could come up with ten million US dollars, Locke wouldn't mind an out-of-court settlement, but unfortunately, it wasn't Locke who refused the out-of-court settlement, but Nina Bell herself who chose a dead end.
Another fool who brought disaster upon herself.
Locke felt a bit speechless; he had already been so kind, always giving the other party a way out, but no matter who it was, they always ignored it and plunged straight into a dead end.
It seemed like everyone was rushing to reincarnate, asking Locke to help them.
Victoria Knox was like this.
Megan Vasi was also like this.
Gwen looked at Locke's clear eyes and asked curiously, "Then what do you plan to do?"
Locke came back to his senses and smiled, "Everything has a price, Gwen, doesn't it?
Admitting your mistakes and standing at attention when you're hit—that's the first thing I learned."
There was one more thing Locke had learned.
If the upper beam is not straight, the lower beam will be crooked!
However... Locke looked at Gwen and smiled, "This time it's me.
If it weren't me, if it were someone else, they'd probably be humiliated by this Nina Bell, wouldn't they?"
Gwen nodded, then said with some lingering fear, "Indeed."
If it were someone else, and they were proven to be racially discriminatory, Midtown High School would probably choose to expel them under public pressure.
Gwen smiled, "She should face the judgment of the law.
The Federation is free and equal; her skin color cannot be her shield."
Locke smiled, "Yes, I think so too."
After a while,
Locke checked his watch, wiped the corners of his mouth, and looked at Gwen, "I'm going to tell Chester."
Gwen nodded, "Okay, I'll wait for you."
Locke hummed, stood up, and walked towards Chester's office.
In the office,
Chester's right hand immediately twitched after Locke entered.
Locke steadily caught the cigar that flew over.
"Been to Cuba again?"
"You can buy anything in New York, Locke."
"So, where's what I asked for?"
Chester pulled open a drawer, took out the documents he had also just received this morning, and handed them to Locke, "Five hundred thousand, your expedited order."
Locke took them, smiling, "No choice.
He and I have a small grudge.
If I went to him, he'd probably charge me a million."
Chester shook his head, "I told you not to tease the Giant Farmer about his height.
You were fine when I took you to him, but when you went by yourself, you immediately teased him."
Locke shrugged.
The Giant Farmer, a Chinese-American, used his superb computer skills to form an organization that served government agencies, criminal syndicates, and the assassin world, spreading various fake news and messages online, even fabricating all sorts of convincing fake evidence, and profiting from it.
A few days ago, Locke had asked Chester to contact the Giant Farmer.
No choice.
He and the Giant Farmer had a small grudge.
Locke opened the special gift package prepared for Nina Bell's family and shook his head, "After I completed that guy's order, he insisted on buying me a drink.
There happened to be a height measuring device at the bar, so I thought, 'Is he 165 or 168?' and dragged him over.
He was fine then, but the next day, I found out he had blocked me."
Fortunately, he blocked him after paying the final amount.
Otherwise... Chester put his cigar aside, "Why the change in style?"
Locke looked at the call records between Nina Bell's family and al-Qaeda displayed on the documents, not even raising his head, "This time it's different.
Use unparalleled force.
They don't deserve my notice."
His notice was for sinners.
People were the key.
If they weren't even human, how could they be worthy of his notice?
"You're killing hearts without shedding blood.
Your killing intent has grown heavier."
"Heavy?"
Locke looked up at Chester, his lips twitching, "Old man, we're from the Lone Star State.
The number of people you've chopped up in the Grand Canyon, I'm afraid if I did one a day, 365 days a year without rest, it would still take me about two years."
Chester paused slightly, then laughed, "I was just saying.
For this kind of species, anything goes; no one will care.
But for others, rein in your killing intent a bit."
"Whether human or beast, I've always given them a glimmer of hope, but they never know how to seize it."
Locke closed the documents in his hand, saying so, then turned and waved his hand, "I'm leaving, old man."
Do you know why the Lone Star State has a tough folk style but is rampant with highway killers, forest cannibals, and desert devourers?
It's not because the people of the Lone Star State don't want to get rid of them.
Moreover... these killers and cannibals actually play a certain role in purifying the environment of Texas.
Otherwise, why would they say that certain species are relatively rare in Texas?
192. Klint: A Gift from the Heavens
'Goodnight, Locke.'
'Goodnight.'
Locke and Gwen shared a kiss. Smiling, he lifted a hand in farewell to Gwen, who had already reached the apartment door and turned to wave. He watched until she was safely inside.
A few days ago George had mentioned that another random killer had surfaced in New York.
The man hadn't dared copy Locke's calling card; otherwise Locke might have tracked him down and turned him into an oversized rat to keep Drug Addict Barry company at the NYPD.
Word was the rat-form of Drug Addict Barry was living the high life in the NYPD's Underground Room—getting a fresh shower of urine over his head every single day.
A short while later.
Locke saw Gwen open her apartment window and look out. Satisfied she was home safe, he started the car and drove away.
Inside the apartment.
Helen, seated at the dining table working on the household accounts, watched Gwen close the kitchen window and bounce out beaming. 'Locke gone?' she asked.
Gwen gave a soft affirmative, cradling the warmed cocoa she'd just taken from the counter. 'I'm off to my Room.'
Helen glanced up, watched her daughter dash upstairs, then rose and told George—sprawled on the sofa, eyes on the latest hunting show—'Locke's even more anxious about Gwen than you are now.'
George's brow twitched. Without looking away from the screen he said,'She's his girlfriend. Making sure she gets home safe is his job. When I was courting you I didn't leave until I saw your dorm light come on.'
If he can't even manage that much...
George would regret breaking his rule to hand the kid a legal carry permit—one he personally vouched for.
Helen settled beside him. 'I hear Locke's legal team is busy again. Know anything about it?'
George kept watching the TV and nodded. 'The bell family are regulars at the Police Department. Of course I know. This time they've kicked an iron plate.'
Did they really think Locke was just an ordinary high-schooler?
He was a high-schooler with an entire lawyer battalion.
Helen folded her arms, amused. 'I was wondering how he'd counter if someone played the discrimination card. Turns out he never even let her get it on the table.'
George shook his head. 'Locke's an orphan from Texas. Without a few tricks up his sleeve he'd never have survived. Not that it matters—clever crooks are scary; clever straight arrows are just safer.'
Helen raised an eyebrow. 'Weren't you the one who wanted to drag him off to a shooting range for a talking-to?'
George smiled, about to answer, then glanced at his phone and told her, 'I was annoyed because he stole my little girl—nothing more. The kid's polite and he steps up when it counts.'
Helen pointed at the phone he'd just checked. 'Who was that?'
'Klint.'
'The Federal Bureau of Investigation section chief?'
'Yeah.'
George said, 'Tomorrow there's a joint NYPD–FBI meeting on catching the serial killer who crossed here from New Jersey.'
'Shouldn't that be the FBI's case? It's interstate.'
'They're handing it to us as an olive branch.'
'Fair enough.'
Relations couldn't stay frozen forever.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had cracked them, but with five big shots backing the agency the FBI had to swallow its grievances and do the mending itself.
A murderer operating on their turf offered the perfect chance.
FBI Agent Klint had gone two nights without decent sleep chasing leads on the killer.
But it would all be worth it.
Klint exhaled when the target's location finally pinged on the monitor. He ordered several Agents to maintain surveillance, planning to wrap the intel as a gift for the NYPD tomorrow, then pointed to the elevator. 'I'm grabbing coffee—anyone want one?'
'Me!'
'Me too.'
'Boss, count me in!'
Klint nodded to the raised hands, tallied the orders, and headed for the elevator.
Outside the Federal Building.
The night breeze hit his face, clearing his foggy head. He pulled a cigarette, lit it, and walked toward the twenty-four-hour coffee shop.
Locke, meanwhile, had finished staging the scene at Nina Bell's place in Queens and was driving back.
Yes.
The Bells' house was in Queens, not on Manhattan Island.
True,
years earlier the family had used their NYPD settlement to buy a Manhattan apartment and put down roots.
But buying property in the U.S. is never a one-off deal.
The purchase price is only the down payment—property tax is the real killer.
And so...
In the first year, Nina Bell's family did live in a single-family house on the Upper East Side, bought with compensation from the NYPD.
But when the second year arrived and property-tax bills came due, something amusing happened.
The Bells seemed to have acquired a taste for privilege, declaring outright that, on account of their race, they ought to be exempt from paying property tax.
This time, however, the opponent across the table wasn't the comparatively soft-touch NYPD—it was the one and only IRS.
Try to hustle the IRS—and demand preferential treatment on top of it?
Even Kingpin, the overlord of Hells Kitchen, pays his taxes without protest; a handful of small-time Blacks hoping to skip the bill on racial grounds? Impossible.
When the family realized their usual tactic had fallen flat and the final notice landed, panic set in and they scrambled to borrow money.
Too bad.
The White neighbors felt the Bells were polluting the very air; rather than stay, they relocated to other properties. With no one watching, the IRS collectors kicked in the door and dumped every possession onto the curb, leaving the Bells to slink away into Hells Kitchen.
They hadn't been there two days before a few tattooed men—reportedly acting on orders from a Hells Kitchen boss—politely beat them senseless and showed them the exit.
After that detour the Bells had no choice but to settle in the very place they had sworn never to live: a Queens housing cluster that served as a transit hub for Blacks.
There, apparently having learned who could and couldn't be provoked, the Bells turned savvy. Putting down roots in the Black neighborhood, they became self-appointed civil-rights Agents for their community, partnering with a familiar activist lawyer to run a no-cost discrimination hustle.
And they actually thrived.
At the very least, the house was spacious—nine people under one roof without the least crowding.
Yes.
Nine people.
No grandparents, just Nina Bell, her parents, and six younger siblings of the same race, each a different age.
Locke arrived just in time to overhear Nina and her parents planning to bus in protesters to wave placards outside the courthouse the next day.
At the time Locke stood quietly on their second-floor landing, watching.
With an intermediate-level Concealment Technique cloaking him,
he felt he could butcher the lot of them one by one, unlocked door and all, and they would never notice an intruder.
But he didn't.
He simply finished setting things up, then turned and left.
Tomorrow?
Dream on.
Across the street from a café near the Federal Building, Locke watched a familiar figure emerge to fetch coffee—FBI section chief Klint.
He meant to hand the credit to George.
Yet the NYPD, when it came to matters of race, clearly lacked the hard-won savvy of its counterpart in his previous life. To be safe, Locke reasoned that if the family had ties to both Al-Qaeda and a few cartels, this crossed into terrorism—right in the FBI's wheelhouse.
Besides,
the Bureau and the NYPD were feuding. If the FBI could help the department settle the score by taking out the Bells, why not?
The Bureau had the expertise, the motive, and the mandate; why not let them do it?
Who says I'm not a softy?
Locke arched a brow. Spotting the section chief juggling several coffees, he flicked a gloved right hand; the folder—every fingerprint wiped clean—whistled through the air like a thrown card.
The next second—
smack!
A yelp: seeing stars, Klint crashed face-first to the pavement.
What the f—!
Scrambling upright, hand already on his unholstered sidearm, Klint shook his head and scanned the deserted street.
His gaze fixed on a folder lying nearby.
What the…?
Frowning, he rubbed the rising welt on his cheek, re-holstered his pistol, and picked up the file.
He looked around once more, then opened it.
The next moment
his pupils contracted.
With each page he turned his breathing quickened.
Ten minutes later—
Bang!
Not even waiting for the elevator doors to open fully, Klint burst into the lobby and barked at the Agents pulling overtime: "Jack, Ron, Martha—gear up, bring the riot squad, we're making arrests!"