Ch: 193-200
One Hundred and Ninety-Three, Locke 2.0 Version Update
Soon.
One black Chevrolet after another drove out of the Federal Building's parking lot like a long dragon.
Behind them, two armored vehicles followed.
Locke, hidden in the darkness, chuckled at the sight, then chose to leave, his deeds done and fame hidden, turning and departing.
Stardust Tower.
As usual, Locke had his clone, who had driven him back, come down. While buying pizza for a late-night snack, he swapped places with the clone, then took a box of pizza back home.
After a while.
Locke dried his wet hair with a towel, turned off the bathroom light, and went to his study.
On the desk in the study, there was an odd book.
Locke had seen this book on the desk in Nina Bell's master bedroom when he visited her home.
The book had no cover, and its pages were crinkled, giving one the impression that it was made of human skin.
In fact.
The book was indeed made of human skin.
Locke hadn't expected such a pleasant surprise on this visit.
Thinking that Nina Bell's entire family, and anyone connected to him, would soon be rounded up by the FBI, his civil lawsuit against Nina Bell would certainly be put on hold. So, he simply took the book, considering it compensation for his emotional distress.
Moreover.
It had cost Locke half a million to put on that show for Nina Bell's family.
One book for half a million, plus ten million in emotional distress compensation—no matter how he looked at it, Locke felt he was at a loss, and the Nina Bell family had made a huge profit.
But... Locke sat in his computer chair, opened the book he had taken, and after reading a few pages, he felt he had truly lost out.
"Shit!"
"Voodoo?"
Locke frowned as he read the contents of the book, and after a few pages, he immediately identified its origin.
Voodoo, also known as Vodou, is a cult that specializes in various dark arts related to revenge, harm, hatred, and curses. Its most common practice is summoning evil spirits, embedding them in dolls, and performing bloody rituals at night.
It can even... enslave corpses, forcing them to serve.
This is a typical cult, but in Haiti, Voodoo is actually the de facto national religion. The most famous Voodoo dolls come from the Voodoo religion.
Locke raised an eyebrow, flipped through a few pages, and seeing the various dark arts described, he simply shook his head and closed the book.
His house was quite large, and if he read too many scary things late at night, Locke worried he wouldn't dare close his eyes.
After he obtained infinite energy, he had spent a long time searching for any method to activate it. Naturally, he had also read up on Voodoo.
Voodoo practitioners call themselves Voodoo mages.
But... they should really be called servants of hell.
Just like other superhumans whose powers require a rental contract with a dimension, Voodoo mages' rental objects are from hell, ranging from the weakest evil spirits to yellow-eyed demons. These are all entities with whom Voodoo mages sign contracts.
The evil spirits and demons of hell lend their power to Voodoo mages, and in return, after the Voodoo mages die, their souls are taken by the evil spirits or demons who lent them power.
So... Locke gave up after he understood this.
In a word.
In hell, there are only lies and deceit.
Those who deal with demons either have brains full of mercury or an IQ not exceeding thirty.
And that's indeed how it is.
Anyone who dares to call themselves Voodoo is of the same ilk.
In fact, even dealing with Mephisto would be better than dealing with these evil spirits and demons.
If you deal with Mephisto carefully, at least you can borrow ten and get five dollars.
Dealing with those Voodoo demons?
Heh heh.
If you borrow ten and get fifty cents, that's already pretty good.
Locke thought to himself, smiled, looked at the Voodoo book on the desk, and with a thought, put it directly into his inventory.
He lost out.
But perhaps not by much.
He'd find some time to look for the Jin family and see if anyone wanted Voodoo secret arts. He should be able to recoup his costs.
Locke stood up, opened the bookshelf, and took out bourbon and a glass.
He poured a glass.
And drank it in one gulp.
The trivial matters were done; it was time for the main event.
"System!"
Locke poured himself another drink: "Use the 10% off treasure refresh coupon, refresh!"
Come on.
Time to make a push.
[Ding!]
[10% off treasure coupon used successfully!]
[Treasure Mall refreshed successfully!]
[Ding!]
In an instant.
Locke's eyes lit up. This time, discounted items and tools appeared one after another in his line of sight.
The first one was at the forefront.
This was the 10% off item guaranteed to be refreshed this time.
[Talent Sublimation Card (10% off): Price 100,000 Achievement Points, original price 1,000,000. Can sublimate talent and improve quality!]
[Talent Upgrade Card (30% off): Price 50,000 Achievement Points. Can upgrade talents of Golden quality!]
[Talent Fusion Device (30% off): Price 100,000 Achievement Points, original price 3,330,000. Can purify skills and items, turning them into your own extraordinary talent!]
[Demon Jester Box (40% off): Price 5,000 Achievement Points. Once placed, it becomes a trap and enters an invisible state. When someone touches the trap, an unconscious demon jester will jump out and ferociously attack the first target it sees.]
[Dancer (50% off): Price 1,000,000 Achievement Points. The dancer is the embodiment of darkness and charm. She moves nimbly on the battlefield, earning the reputation of having a vibrant dance of death. Perhaps you can develop other uses?]
[Sandman Bloodline (60% off): Price 300,000 Achievement Points. A terrifying bloodline created by a failed experiment, possessing formidable strength.]
[...]
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Talent sublimation?
Talent upgrade?
Talent fusion?
Was this a talent special?
As for the dancer who could be summoned for companionship, or the Sandman bloodline, Locke didn't even look at them.
In a word.
Only when he had too much money and nowhere to spend it would he buy those flashy but impractical things.
As usual.
Locke directly bought the small health potions and stamina potions that were refreshed in the discount store this time, replenishing his stock.
Then.
Locke's right hand flickered.
A shimmering golden card suddenly appeared in his right hand.
Talent, Sublimation Card!
It could sublimate one of his talents and improve its quality.
This was what he wanted.
"Sublimate! Resilience!"
[Ding!]
[Choose to upgrade Resilience / Red Quality / Level 3 to Steel Body / Gold Quality / Level 1. Do you want to consume a Sublimation Card and 100,000 Potential Points for fusion and sublimation?]
[Confirm / Cancel!]
"...Confirm."
Locke looked at the Steel Body that popped up and chose to confirm without hesitation!
[Confirmation successful!]
[Fusion!]
[Sublimation!!!]
Buzz!
Locke, sitting in his computer chair, suddenly trembled violently. With a bang, the computer chair beneath him instantly shattered.
The next second.
A golden light suddenly appeared on Locke's forehead, and then, starting from his forehead, countless streaks like swimming dragons rapidly coursed over his entire body.
Sour!
Itchy!
Exhilarating!
Locke felt his whole being had sublimated.
The next second!
[Ding!]
[Sublimation successful!]
[Supreme Talent: Steel Body (Gold Quality / Level 1): Your body will be as strong as steel. Ordinary firearms will not even tickle you.]
Locke was ecstatic.
It's here.
Superman!
However... Locke looked at the description of this Steel Body, smacking his lips. Although it seemed unrelated to Superman, at least the name was very similar, so he couldn't say he wasn't happy.
After all, Locke lowered his head and clenched his fists.
Power!
The renewed surge of power made Locke feel that he could now, with his bare hands, effortlessly overturn a car.
Right.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
The Talent Upgrade Card had also been purchased by him and appeared in his right hand.
Celestial Maiden Scattering Flowers.
Bang!
Instantly.
A clear, cold female voice seemed to echo in Locke's ears.
"More!"
"I can take more!!"
[Upgrade successful!]
[Supreme Talent: Extraordinary (Gold Quality / Level 2): Your energy will be endless. In fact, your energy has found a void and is stirring, seemingly intending to open up a dimension that belongs only to you!]
"...Dimension?"
Locke raised an eyebrow. For some reason, he suddenly had the illusion that he didn't need the Sun God bloodline or the Superman bloodline anymore.
I can become a god through my own efforts!
But... Locke shook his head.
What a joke.
One is a Supreme God, and the other is a Dimensional God. The difference between them cannot be said to be small; it's like the difference between heaven and hell.
I finally transmigrated. I won't be a Supreme God, only to become the lowest-tier Dimensional God?
How is that possible?
Locke shook his head.
However... the increase in energy still made Locke feel that in his sea of consciousness, the endless energy seemed to be slowly exploring a certain spatial location.
If his estimation was correct, it was likely that with one more level-up, the dimension could be created.
But... this was with the Talent Upgrade Card.
If there were no Talent Upgrade Card, heh heh, then upgrading would probably require a massive amount of potential points.
Especially for Supreme Talents.
Ordinary skills, a fixed 1,000 potential points per level.
Extraordinary skills, 10,000 for level one, 20,000 for level two, 40,000 for level three... As for Supreme Talents and skills?
Heh heh.
[Status refreshed!]
[Name: Locke Broughton (Unique Player)]
[Identity: Assassin Witch, None for now]
[Achievement Points: 100,000 (Can be used to purchase items in the Achievement Shop)]
[Potential Points: 120,000 (Can be used to upgrade your own skills)]
[Supreme Talent: Extraordinary (Gold Quality / Level 2): Your energy will be endless. In fact, your energy is stirring, seemingly intending to open up a dimension that belongs to you.]
[Supreme Talent: Steel Body (Gold Quality / Level 1): Your body is as strong as steel. Ordinary firearms are basically ineffective against you.]
[...]
[Faction: Land of Light, Nebula M78]
[Members: 1 / 2]
[Name: Carrie White]
[Profession: Witch]
[...]
Chapter 194: Locke's Money-Making Plan
"Morning."
"Good morning, Locke."
On this new day, Locke, having completed another iteration and upgrade, felt that the entire Worldseemed different.
Gwen, sitting in the car, gave a smiling greeting and then curiously remarked, "You look very happy today."
Locke smiled and said, "Because I am the student council president now."
He actually wanted to share his joy with Gwen.
But... if nothing went wrong, he would keep his core secret to himself until the end of time.
Gwen nodded. "Yes, President Broughton, congratulations."
"You too."
"Huh?"
"I plan to invite you to be the new student council assistant."
Locke said with a smile. A student assistant and a student council assistant were different, and as the new student council president, President Broughton could appoint a student council assistant.
It was just like how the Secretary of State is usually chosen and appointed by the President.
Again, the same old saying.
Locke had no interest in how to build a good student council, but he was very interested in using the student council's name to help himself rake in money... bah, rake in points.
But if he only raked in points and ignored the student council, Locke felt he would probably be impeached and ousted by next year.
So... Locke needed a Secretary of State of his own, and without a doubt, Gwen was the best candidate.
Gwen blinked. She wasn't surprised by Locke's proposal and nodded, readily accepting the invitation. "Sure."
Her academic performance was enough to make her a buyer, looking at the offers from various federal colleges and waiting for the best price.
But school is school; days in school are all to pave the way for leaving school and entering society.
Gwen was very clear about her future plans, which was why she served as a student assistant at school while also working as an intern for Dr. Connors at Osborn Industries.
Excellent academic performance could let her wait for the best price from universities; similarly, excellent school experience could help her maintain her advantage after entering society.
Locke saw Gwen agree, smiled slightly, and started the car.
But just as he was about to start the car, he noticed George, wearing White clothes, getting straight into a police car after coming down the stairs.
Locke watched the whistling police car drive away, feeling a bit puzzled.
That's not right.
Nina Bell's family and their organization had connections to the Base, and he had given the Federal Bureau of Investigation the information about them even receiving donations from the Base's secret accounts.
Also... "George is home? I remember George usually leaves at six o'clock?"
"Dad has a meeting with the Federal Bureau of Investigation today, but this morning, that Klint from the Federal Bureau of Investigation said it would be delayed for a bit, so Dad didn't leave so early."
"Oh."
Locke nodded and started the car, heading towards Midtown High School.
He understood.
This should be Klint planning to organize things first and then give George and the NYPD a big face-saving gesture during the meeting with George.
Look, we've made up for the face you lost, so for the sake of us avenging you, shake hands and make up.
Locke thought to himself.
Half an hour later.
After Locke's audi drove into the parking lot, Gwen, sitting in the passenger seat, poked her head out and saw Cindy and Kahn waiting nearby, along with Kem and Matt.
They got out of the car.
Cindy's eyes lit up and she walked straight over, looking a bit excited. "Gwen, have you heard?"
Gwen was confused.
Betty also walked over with Carrie. "I heard that last night, the Federal Bureau of Investigation raided Nina Bell's house and took her whole family away."
Gwen was slightly stunned. "What happened?"
Kem said indignantly, "It's said that their family accepted donations from the Base. No wonder they were jumping around so happily."
The Base?
It had only been four years since the year Zero-one. September four years ago was a scar in the hearts of New Yorkers; naturally, they were no strangers to the Base that gave them this scar.
Sam Malik, who had also just arrived at school, got out of his car and walked over, joining in just as he heard this news. "I heard the Washington Congressman who gave them their green cards was also taken away to Quantico."
The Federal Bureau of Investigation headquarters is located in Quantico, just as people like to call the CIA headquarters by its location name, Langley; the alias for the Federal Bureau of Investigationheadquarters is also directly called Quantico.
The few of them looked at Sam as he joined them.
Because Sam Malik was the first to surrender to Locke, the others did not reject Sam Malik's joining.
Kem looked at Sam with some surprise. "Really?"
Sam nodded. "I heard it from my sister."
Coincidentally, this Washington Congressman who gave Nina Bell's family their green cards had several legitimate projects from the Malik family that needed the vote in his hand during this period.
Originally, the Malik family was really wondering whether to invest. As a result, the news was known immediately. If the Malik family had invested, they would be thinking of ways to get him out now, but since they hadn't invested, it was none of their business.
Betty patted her chest. "Fortunately, she has been temporarily suspended by our school. Otherwise, the Federal Bureau of Investigation might have surrounded our school."
However, although it wasn't surrounded, it could be seen today that several students of the same kind who were close to Nina Bell's family and came to the school through welfare connections had not yet arrived.
Locke's wave was precise AOE damage.
Of course.
All the evidence was fake.
But... could Nina Bell find an expert who could identify the authenticity of the evidence?
Do they have the funds?
Obviously not. If they couldn't find an expert to help them identify it, then it was real. Even if the Federal Bureau of Investigation itself discovered it was fake evidence in a few days, they wouldn't admit it.
Carrie, Gwen, and Betty were also chatting and discussing, their peripheral vision glancing at Locke.
Locke, with his hands in his pockets, felt Carrie's gaze, looked over, and smiled slightly.
Let's put it this way.
Most of the people chatting here were from the Republican camp, none were from the Democratic camp, and Carrie was naturally no exception.
Naturally, everyone's views on certain matters were relatively consistent.
They entered the classroom.
Locke's phone rang.
No doubt.
It was Lawyer Laun.
Just now, the Federal Bureau of Investigation decided to file no fewer than three federal felonies and five federal misdemeanor charges against Nina Bell's family.
But this also meant one thing.
Locke's civil lawsuit might be delayed. Conservatively estimated, if Locke still wanted to sue, this civil case might have to wait until a hundred years later.
In Lawyer Laun's words, he had never seen any Federal Bureau of Investigation case handled so vigorously and swiftly.
And there wasn't even a bit of The Message. Even the federal court had passed the prosecution from the District Attorneys Office, which meant the Federal Bureau of Investigation had full evidence and confidence.
Lawyer Laun chuckled on the phone, "It feels as if the CIA made a deal with the Base, and the Baseorganized all the evidence and sent it directly to the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
I'm not the Base.
After Locke finished chatting with Lawyer Laun, he looked at Gwen on his right, Betty who turned her head in front, and Carrie on his left who was also looking over. He looked at the phone in his hand and said with a flat expression, "Criminal proceedings take priority. My civil lawsuit will probably have to wait a hundred years for a court date."
The three girls had different expressions.
Locke turned his head to look at the empty desk behind him, his expression also somewhat dazed.
Speaking of which... if that transfer student who hadn't come yet really was Wanda, and she happened to sit behind him, tsk tsk, Locke felt like he was surrounded.
Gwen on the right.
Carrie on the left.
Betty in front.
Wanda behind.
Goodfellas, this is going to be a Fire-red rhythm.
But... until June was almost here, those two students who were said to be transferring from Sokovia still hadn't shown up.
Locke checked through Peerless Assassin's exclusive channels. It seemed like a plague had broken out in Sokovia, and Callum Lynch's daughter was hospitalized, so they might return to New York a bit later.
This made Locke a bit lost, and he became more and more curious about whether Callum Lynch's daughter was Wanda.
But... no information could be found online, and Callum Lynch was an excellent assassin. Locke hacked into the surveillance in Sokovia and spent a whole day specifically searching but didn't find any Spider Silk or tracks.
Forget it.
Locke thought to himself, stood up, shook hands with the Trinity High School student council presidentwho came over to have a drink with him, and then watched the other party leave in a red sports car.
After Gwen and Locke walked out of the cafe, she said, "Trinity is settled. Your High School Student Council Knowledge Competition Super Cup platform can be considered established."
In these two months, Locke had not been idle.
While confirming he would take office in June and starting the handover process, he directly began to turn the blueprint in his mind into reality.
Choate Mary High School.
St. Paul's High School.
Maria High School.
Brooklyn High School.
Trinity High School.
Locke directly looked up the phone numbers of various student councils and began promoting his High School Student Council Knowledge Competition Super Cup plan.
The other student council presidents were very interested in this.
After all... connecting a Knowledge Competition platform jointly created by high school student councils in New York State, once it became famous, it would all be political achievements.
Especially this time, the student council presidents of several major high schools had just taken office.
They desperately needed a successful start...
195. The Seeming End of Nina Bell
So... after several phone calls, the online contact during the weekends of these two months transitioned into offline meetings.
Everything was settled perfectly.
Only the president of Holy Trinity had a small issue.
But Locke still satisfied his request.
However, Gwen had a different view on this.
After getting into the car.
Gwen frowned and said, "This is your proposal, why include him? Even if Holy Trinity doesn't participate, the plan won't be affected, right?"
The Holy Trinity student council president's request was actually quite simple.
He needed to be a co-promoter of Locke's plan; otherwise, he wouldn't join.
Locke agreed.
The reason?
Locke started the car and smiled, "He wants prestige, I want the benefits. We're both getting what we need. Besides, you can't deny that Holy Trinity's financial resources are very substantial."
Compared to the Holy Trinity student council, the Midtown High School student council was practically a nouveau riche.
And.
Locke smiled, "He also privately promised to help Midtown High School secure the Hilton Hotel as the venue for this year's graduation prom."
Gwen frowned, "How come I didn't hear him say that?"
Locke handed his phone to Gwen.
Gwen took it, scrolled through, and then smiled, "When this year's The Graduate finds out you've secured the Hilton Hotel for their graduation prom, they'll probably be thrilled."
Locke chuckled.
The other party wanted fame.
Locke wanted the benefits. He only ever looked at results, not the process. As long as the result was what he wanted, he didn't care about the process.
He didn't need fame, nor did he intend to have it.
Locke's original intention was to use the student council's name to earn points for himself. As long as this platform could be built, his guaranteed income of over a hundred thousand points over the next two years would be secured.
Not to mention, the president of Holy Trinity really did offer a lot.
He personally contributed fifty thousand to the prize pool, and their collective contribution wouldn't be a penny less. He even privately promised to get the Hilton ballroom for Midtown High School's graduation prom, which in a way, was returning some of the fame he was taking from Locke.
So, why not agree?
In the evening.
Locke and Gwen, who were having dinner at Gwen's house, had their phones start chiming incessantly at the same time.
The three background characters in George's family looked curiously at Locke and Gwen as they pulled out their phones.
Helen also looked at Gwen, somewhat curious, "What's wrong?"
Gwen looked at the Graduation Prom Planning Group chat, where all sorts of excited messages were hailing Locke as a hero. She smiled and answered Helen's question, "It's about the graduation prom."
George sipped his whiskey and looked at Locke, who had directly muted his phone. "Aren't you guys not involved in the graduation prom?"
After all, they were in different grades, and after Locke officially took office, he hadn't chosen to interfere with The Graduate's graduation prom. The members of the prom planning committee were still twelfth-grade graduates.
Gwen also put away her phone and smiled, "Locke helped them move this year's graduation prom to the Hilton Hotel. The news probably just reached them, and they're expressing their gratitude in the group."
Locke smiled.
George raised an eyebrow, "The Hilton Hotel? Are those photos of yours selling so well that they can cover the costs of the Hilton?"
Locke's mouth twitched.
The moment that Photobook was mentioned, he regretted it.
He had been too hasty back then.
Gwen laughed, "Dad, this money isn't coming from the student council. Although we do get a lot of dividends from the Photobook sales, this money was privately paid to the Hilton Hotel by the president of Holy Trinity."
As she spoke.
Gwen briefly explained the project Locke had been working on for the past two months and the deal with the Holy Trinity student council president.
But George's focus was on the Photobook.
"Hiss."
Hearing Gwen say the dividends were enough to book the Hilton, George couldn't help but suck in a breath. "How much did Locke's Photobook sell for?"
Locke opened his mouth to speak.
Gwen cut in, "Dad, that's a trade secret."
George looked directly at Locke.
Locke made a helpless gesture. "To be honest, I don't know how many sold either. I just authorized it to Cindy and her Sorority."
"And your cut?"
"About eighty thousand."
"..."
George was silent for a moment. "How much?"
Gwen looked at George's stunned expression and smiled, "Dad, it's not just high schools. Universities and high school sororities in other states have come to Cindy to be their local agents."
George was dumbfounded.
Not just New York City?
They've fucking sold the Photobook nationwide?
Jesus Christ.
Wait, that's not right.
George had an illusion; it seemed that with Locke, he realized making money was actually such an easy and simple thing.
Taking a few photos, and in less than two months, there's eighty thousand in income?
What the fuck?
Actually... it really wouldn't have been possible to sell nationwide, but Nina Bell's case has been the focus of the entire country lately. Especially after the Federal Bureau of Investigation disclosed information proving the Nina Bell family was related to the events of September 2001, it received even more attention.
Naturally, the school Nina Bell attended, as well as Locke and the campaign Photobook, were also broadcast as sidebar news.
As a result, after TV stations in various states broadcast it, everyone wanted to lick the screen.
So, the factories that were planning to shut down their machines powered up again at full speed.
Locke wanted to say it was enough, but he had already given his authorization, and there was a contract. From a legal standpoint, as long as Cindy's side paid Locke's dividends as agreed, Locke had no reason to call it off.
That's why Locke said he felt he had made a mistake.
Listening to Gwen's explanation, George was also a bit dazed and shook his head speechlessly. "Girls nowadays don't look at talent, they just look at looks."
Gwen was unhappy. "Dad, isn't Locke's talent just as high as his looks?"
George: "..."
Is this still my sweet little girl? I was just making a comment, is there a need to undermine me like this?
Damn wild boar.
George didn't dare to strike out at Gwen, but he wasn't polite with Locke. "Tomorrow I'll take you to the shooting range to see if the shotgun feels right, so you don't fail to hit a single rabbit when we go hunting later."
Yes.
Hunting.
Locke didn't plan to participate in the graduation prom preparations at the end of June. Moreover, the student council's Knowledge Super Bowl Competition would only be implemented when school started in the second half of the year.
So, George planned to meet up with his old comrades and go hunting together.
Destination: West Virginia!
Locke nodded and smiled, "I'm looking forward to hunting with you."
He had it all figured out.
If George came up empty-handed while hunting, he would quietly find a rabbit while camping and have it knock itself unconscious against George's tent, so George wouldn't lose face by coming home empty.
"By the way."
Helen saw what was on her husband George's face and immediately changed the subject. "The case of Nina Bell's family, didn't it go to court yesterday? How did it go?"
To be precise.
Yesterday was the final court session, but even now, no verdict has been released.
George said, "The jury couldn't reach an agreement."
"What?"
Helen frowned, "They won't be acquitted, will they?"
"How could that be?"
George laughed, "The District Attorneys Office's chain of evidence is very clear. They found a computer specifically used to contact the Base in a hidden compartment in their house, and fingerprints were extracted from that computer."
Helen asked, "Then why hasn't a verdict been reached?"
George shook his head, "The jury is stuck between the ultimate penalty and the death penalty."
The ultimate penalty, naturally, is ascending in the electric chair.
The death penalty is lying down for a lethal injection.
Simply put, death is certain; now the jury is just having some dispute over the method of execution. After all, the electric chair is a bit too cruel.
George said, "However, the Federal Bureau of Investigation isn't in a hurry. Anyway, the result will definitely be that. Besides, the number of people the Federal Bureau of Investigation needs to prosecute this time—settling one case a day—will take a month."
It's just that Nina Bell's family were the masterminds; the others seem to be accomplices, though those people insist they were just making money through equal rights activism and weren't Terrorists at all.
But... several businesses in New York City don't think so, and neither do the ledgers found at Nina Bell's house or the flow of money in those people's bank accounts.
As for those so-called Equal Rights Organizations and Animal Protection Associations?
They haven't even made a sound.
Locke and Gwen listened to George and Helen's conversation without choosing to interject.
After returning to the Room.
Gwen finally sighed.
Locke looked at Gwen curiously.
Gwen shook her head, "Nina Bell is only eighteen."
Locke hummed, "I heard that over at the Base, eight-year-olds can already carry AKs."
Gwen glanced at Locke, "I'm not sympathizing with her, Locke."
Locke smiled, "I know. After all, Nina Bell is someone we know, isn't she?"
Gwen nodded, "Yes, that's what I meant, nothing else. I just didn't expect—Mmph!"
After a while.
Gwen caught her breath and rolled her eyes at Locke, "What are you doing?"
Locke shrugged, "Comforting you."
Gwen: "..."
A few days later.
When Locke, Gwen, Cindy, and Kahn went to the library to study, the federal court's verdict on Nina Bell was finally reached after nearly a week of deliberation by the jury.
Nina Bell's parents were found guilty of three federal felonies and five federal charges.
Sentenced to the ultimate penalty!
As for Nina Bell?
Given her age, the jury eventually softened their hearts and sentenced her to life imprisonment, to serve her time in the New York Women's Prison... Monthly Ticket!
Chapter 197: George's Colleague/Friend
Soon.
Because Helen and Gwen were traveling, there were a total of four suitcases.
And they were the extra-large kind.
Originally, George planned to drive his own car and leave Locke's car behind, but in the end, two cars drove toward Kennedy Airport, one following the other.
"Gwen?"
"Hmm?"
Locke maintained a steady speed, closely following George's car ahead, and asked curiously, "Why do I feel like Grandpa doesn't seem to like George?"
Gwen put down her phone: "You noticed?"
Locke nodded.
How could he not notice? The way George looked at him was basically a replica of the way Grandpa looked at George, like it had been woodblock printed.
Gwen smiled and said, "It's simple. Back when they first got married, Dad was just a regular Police Officer. And once, Grandpa committed a traffic violation. When he saw it was George, he thought he could get off the hook, but..."
Locke raised an eyebrow: "George mercilessly slapped the ticket onto Grandpa's face?"
Gwen nodded, then shook her head.
"Grandpa thought Dad had let him go, so he just drove away. As a result, Grandpa committed a hit-and-run that day and was fined five hundred U.S. dollars."
"..."
Locke fell silent.
Gwen shrugged: "If it were you, would you do that?"
Locke shook his head: "No!"
He wasn't just talking nonsense.
He had proof!
That night last year, according to the nature of the Peerless Assassin, anyone who stood in front of him, pointing a gun at him, was an enemy.
But what did Locke do?
He let George go.
Why?
Because George might be his father-in-law!
Killing captives brings misfortune.
If he killed his father-in-law, needless to say, it would definitely be an ill omen.
But George?
A model for our generation?
Gwen shook her head and said, "I heard from my mom that when they got married later, Grandpa was so angry he said he wouldn't give them a single penny."
Locke was engrossed: "And then?"
"So Dad worked as a Police Officer during the day, and a bodyguard at night clubs at night, taking escort jobs with a few old Police Officers. Then he went to find my Grandpa and told him he wanted to propose to Mom."
"...Grandpa didn't slap him out of the room?"
"Dad told Grandpa that if Grandpa hit him, it would count as assaulting a Police Officer, because Dad was on duty and wearing his uniform at the time."
"..."
Locke was utterly astonished.
Then he suddenly felt it was completely illogical.
After all that.
Could George still marry Helen?
That wasn't reasonable.
Locke felt like he was watching a suspense drama, following George ahead as they drove onto the main road leading to Kennedy International Airport: "And then?"
Gwen shrugged: "Mom said that later, Dad had a good talk with Grandpa. Dad said that he was a Police Officer, and if he were Grandpa, he wouldn't want his son-in-law to be an unprincipled Police Officer. If a Police Officer loses his principles, his destination is definitely prison."
Locke blinked: "That's it?"
Why don't I believe that?
"It definitely wasn't just that. Mom also said a lot of things beside him. And Dad spent two months, working day and night, doing various part-time jobs to earn the money needed to support the wedding."
"Later, Grandpa saw Dad's sincerity and softened."
"He took out Mom's wedding fund and gave it to her. Then, Mom and Dad used that money, saved for another five years, and bought that apartment."
"..."
Gwen said this, looking at Locke: "Although Grandpa still finds Dad an eyesore, it's just a habit now, and Dad has gotten used to it too."
Understood.
George is a masochist.
Wait.
Both of them are masochists.
If it were him, and someone dared to send him to traffic court, and then shamelessly said they wanted to marry his daughter.
Heh heh.
Locke guaranteed he would twist that person's head off right there.
Wait.
Wrong!
As long as someone dared to tell him they wanted to marry his daughter, Locke would immediately fly into a rage.
Kennedy Airport.
Locke arrived just in time. He and George stood in the hall, glaring at each other, pushing two pieces of luggage.
Gwen and Helen went to collect the tickets.
However... Helen looked at the four first-class tickets Gwen had retrieved and frowned: "Didn't we buy economy class?"
Gwen said, "Locke bought first class. He originally bought first class for me first, but then he thought, if he bought it for me, he had to buy it for you, so he just bought it for everyone."
Helen seemed to catch a key point: "What about your dad?"
Gwen didn't speak, she just looked at Helen and countered, "Is it true that all of them are like this?"
Grandpa and Dad don't get along.
Dad and Locke also seem not to get along. Although it's not obvious, the signs are there.
Helen pursed her lips and chuckled: "Men care about face. Unfortunately, whether it's your Grandpa, your Dad, or Locke, they all care about face. And Locke cares about face even more than the other two."
If it weren't for face, how could Locke hire a team of lawyers to sue the Federal Bureau of Investigationand the Department of Homeland Security?
And even sue Nina Bell?
It couldn't possibly be for fun, or some other reason.
Locke isn't a sociopath.
Smart, sensible, polite.
A complete gentleman.
Helen thought this to herself, then looked at Gwen: "How much is the difference in price? I'll give it to you, and you give it to Locke later."
Gwen smiled: "Don't worry, Mom, you don't need to pay. I already paid him."
Seeing this, Helen nodded.
Locke initially said no need, but Gwen was very insistent about it during dinner a few days ago. As everyone knows, Locke is very adept at compromise; since Gwen insisted, Locke naturally compromised.
Mainly, if he hadn't compromised then, it would have been very uncomfortable to hold it in and not let it out.
George took the ticket, glanced at it, and then looked at Helen with a hint of complaint: "Why..."
Gwen interrupted, hugging Locke's shoulder: "Dad, Locke upgraded your seats."
George opened his mouth, let out an 'oh,' and pushed the luggage toward the security checkpoint.
He didn't even turn his head. After all, seeing the person his precious daughter was hugging out of the corner of his eye was already making his blood pressure spike. If he looked back, George feared that out of the four people today, only three might make it onto the plane.
On the plane.
George and Helen sat on the left.
Locke and Gwen sat on the right.
Gwen was flipping through the introduction to their travel destination, and then, remembering something, she nudged Locke, who had his eyes closed as if preparing to sleep.
Locke opened his eyes and looked at Gwen.
Gwen whispered, "We shouldn't encounter anything strange this time, right?"
This time they were on land.
The ocean?
Not only had Gwen been strictly forbidden from going on any cruise ships, but George and Helen had also tacitly removed all sea activities from their entertainment options.
Locke's expression stiffened.
That sounded like she was tempting fate again.
But... Locke carefully recalled the customs and culture of the destination in his memory, and shook his head: "No, probably not."
Gwen nodded: "That's good."
After all, the poseidon incident hasn't truly ended yet.
However... the lawsuit for compensation regarding the poseidon is not easy to fight; there are over three thousand people involved. Although the media has moved on after exploiting the hype, the parties involved are still continuing the struggle.
If nothing unexpected happens.
At the earliest, three more years for the court to successfully pronounce a judgment is the fastest scenario. As for when they will receive the compensation money?
Let's put it this way.
Locke, Gwen, Kahn, Cindy, Dylan, and Maggie have already received their compensation.
This was all thanks to Pepper.
The cruise company that operated the poseidon was secretly transferring assets, but while they could fight hard against the general public, they had no choice when facing Pepper Potts.
The compensation was 2.3 million per person.
This was already very good. If they had gone to court with everyone else, each person might only have received tens of thousands.
After all, building the poseidon had practically bankrupted them. Even if they wanted more, the company needed to have the funds.
The Federation has bankruptcy laws.
It's not uncommon for some people to mess up, declare bankruptcy, suffer for a few years, treat it as a reflection on past hardships, and then transform into a rich person.
Moreover, Kahn, Cindy, and Dylan don't plan to pursue it further.
Locke naturally didn't care either.
It's still the same principle.
Locke is only serious when bonus points are involved; whoever dares touch his points, he dares touch their head.
But in other situations, Locke is a very easygoing person.
By the time they reached their destination, it was almost noon.
They got off the plane.
At the parking lot.
Locke took the audi key from the rental company employee.
"Didn't you say you wanted to rent a pickup truck?"
"No need."
Locke opened the trunk, looked over, and saw George walking over, holding a Ford Pickup key. He smiled slightly: "We can just drive George's pickup into the mountains later."
George's eyebrow twitched. He glanced at the audi Locke had rented: "You seem to really like this car."
The Peerless Assassin also seemed to like driving a silver audi whenever he acted.
Locke put Gwen's suitcase into the trunk, closed it, and smiled: "Mainly, I'm just used to driving them. Plus, I already ordered a pickup truck from the audi company. I thought it would arrive in time, but it seems it won't."
"Orde..."
George's mouth twitched. He stopped talking, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.
Let me say this again.
His annual salary is only eighty thousand.
This wild boar earned his entire year's salary in just two months by selling his charm.
No comparison.
Furthermore.
Why should I compare financial strength with a wild boar?
George thought this to himself, and once the call connected, he immediately changed the subject: "Hank, I'm here. Where are you?"
198. Locke's reputation in Chicago
Hank Voight.
He's the detective sergeant of the Gang Crime Investigation Unit at the Chicago Police Department's 21st District, known for his integrity, extensive criminal experience, and case-solving expertise.
Erin Lindsay.
Hank Voight's adopted daughter, and also a member of the Gang Crime Investigation Unit at the Chicago Police Department's 21st District.
Inside a gun store not far from the airport parking lot.
Hank and Erin were choosing guns.
Shotguns.
After all, guns aren't banned by the federal government, so a gun store near an airport parking lot isn't unusual. In Texas, you can buy a gun at any airport without even leaving the premises after you land.
This place... was still a bit too conservative.
"Hank."
George walked in and immediately saw his old friend, a big smile on his face. They embraced, completing a long-awaited reunion.
Locke, curious, asked Gwen, "George and this Voight..."
"Classmates."
"Old classmates."
"They were classmates when Dad was at the police academy. They often made time to chat. Once, Mom misunderstood Dad for getting up in the middle of the night to talk on the phone, thinking he had a lover."
Gwen said, smiling as she hugged Erin Lindsay, who had just hugged Helen: "Long time no see, Erin!"
"Long time no see."
Erin, who had a beauty mark on her left cheek, smiled and hugged Gwen. Then she noticed Locke, and as if remembering something, she looked down at Gwen.
Gwen was poised: "Broughton, Locke Broughton, my boyfriend."
Erin suddenly understood. She looked at Locke, extended her hand, and seemed to recall something: "The main character of Chicago's best-selling contraband lately. I've heard a lot about you."
Locke and Erin shook hands. Like everyone who shoots, Erin's hand was a shooting hand.
But... "Contraband?"
"Yes."
After letting go, Erin smiled and said, "Two weeks ago, we got a tip that a shipment of contraband had arrived at Chicago port. The recipients were college drug dealers, so we prepared a raid. It was successful, but when we opened the boxes, they were all your photo albums?"
Locke looked at Erin's half-smile, his lips twitching.
Gwen, next to him, asked curiously, "How did Locke's photo albums become contraband?"
Erin laughed and said, "We found out after interrogation that the informant's information was leaked by the drug dealers themselves. But this 'contraband' wasn't drugs; it was defined as contraband by the student management committees of several major universities. Drug dealers, they'll sell anything that makes money. Apparently, these photo albums were worth two hundred dollars each."
Gwen's mouth fell open.
Two hundred dollars?
They had only priced them at sixty dollars.
George and Hank on the other side also noticed the conversation.
Hank, with his characteristic chin rub, glanced at Locke, then looked at his old friend, and said in a deep, hoarse voice, "Is this your future son-in-law?"
George was still shocked about the two hundred dollars. Hearing Hank's remark, he looked up at Hank and chuckled, "Don't underestimate him. I called you here to cheer me on, don't mess it up."
Hank just laughed.
George, however, was a bit helpless.
Shooting?
At first, George felt a sense of accomplishment, but after a few times, he realized that Locke's shooting skills, like his learning, improved rapidly. After five times, if he wasn't serious when target shooting, his score would actually be lower than Locke's.
So he switched to fishing, an activity that young people usually don't have the patience for.
But... those damn fish were like idiots. The bait was right there, but they just kept lining up to bite Locke's bait. As for his, they didn't even glance at it.
This time?
For the sake of his father-in-law's dignity, George directly called in Hank, a hunting expert, to take charge.
This time, he had to quell the arrogance of this wild boar and let him know that a father-in-law is still a father-in-law, and this impetuous son-in-law of yours is always just a little brat.
However... George frowned, "What's this about two hundred dollars? Wasn't it one hundred dollars?"
To see what was so special about the photo album that could earn this wild boar eighty thousand in dividends within two months, George had secretly bought one himself.
But... due to channel and confidentiality reasons, he could only get one from a reseller for a hundred dollars. It brought George a dozen exquisite photos, and they were even photos of this wild boar, which really pained George for a long time.
Most importantly.
George looked at them back and forth repeatedly, still unable to understand how these dozen or so pictures could sell for a hundred dollars, let alone two hundred dollars.
Or was it that money was no longer money?
Hank looked at George with a somewhat strange expression: "Wasn't the selling price in your New York City sixty dollars? How did you pay a hundred?"
George was slightly stunned: "What, sixty?"
He hadn't asked Gwen about these things at home, after all, if he did, it would imply that he was too concerned about Locke, which would create a misconception.
After saying that, Hank immediately laughed, "High school students, the more something is forbidden, the more they try it. Especially since several major universities in Chicago jointly designated this photo album as contraband, lately, drug dealers have all switched to selling this stuff. Although it doesn't make as much money as drugs, the risk is much lower."
Even if you get caught with this stuff, it's prohibited by the school, but not by law. It can't even be considered smuggling. That time, Hank was so angry he beat up the informant.
George's teeth ached.
Gwen also gasped, listening to the price of Locke's photo album in Chicago, and suddenly understood: "I knew it! Cindy told me last time that lately, Chicago has been taking orders like crazy, and the machines in the factory are almost smoking. If this continues, Cindy feels like she could ring the bell on Wall Street and go public."
Locke's face twitched.
He knew he was somewhat handsome, and he often said that handsomeness could be a meal ticket, but he had only ever said it, never actually cashed in on it.
Now?
He didn't know until he cashed in, and then he was shocked.
By the way, did I authorize my likeness to Cindy too hastily?
And... Locke's expression was slightly odd: "I remember that the universities in Chicago, it seems, have a higher proportion of Black... African Americans, right?"
"Otherwise, why would your book be banned?"
"..."
Erin laughed and shook her head, "High school students, you know, they have a strong rebellious streak. I heard your photo album sells best among African American girls."
Locke gasped.
Good heavens.
What do you call this?
Being a glutton for punishment?
Gwen was also somewhat incredulous, then thought for a moment and looked at Locke: "Maybe it's because you clarified that you're not a racist."
I'm not, I am, don't talk nonsense.
Locke glanced at Gwen, thinking to himself that he was a staunch member of the Lone Star State. Racism, clarification, none of that existed.
Helen, standing nearby, looked at the time on her watch, then at the two groups of people who had split off and were chatting in the gun store. She clapped her hands to get their attention: "Hey, guys, time's ticking! Are you buying gear or not? If not, let's go."
The few people stopped chatting and began browsing the gun store as if they were in a supermarket.
Locke's eyes lit up when he saw a gun.
It was black.
It had an eight-power scope mounted on it.
"This one?"
Locke pointed to the Remington 700 hanging on the wall and said to Gwen beside him, "This is good."
Gwen turned her head and looked at George, Hank, and Erin, who were gathered at the shotgun counter: "Aren't you choosing a shotgun?"
Hunting, after all.
The first choice, of course, is a shotgun, as ammunition is easy to change, and the pellets spread in a fan shape, giving it a natural advantage in terms of killing area. If you use a rifle and shoot for a long time, thick-skinned prey might still cry out and escape, which would be too cruel to the animal.
Locke smiled and said, "My marksmanship is pretty good."
He only had one target when he fired.
The head!
And his accuracy was always superb.
The most important point.
Locke was eyeing the promotional offer for the Remington 700: Buy a Remington 700, limited-time promotion, and receive a Glock self-defense pistol as a gift.
Buy one get one free, very cost-effective.
"This is the one."
Locke thought to himself, smiling as he pointed to the Remington 700 to the store clerk: "I'll take this."
This gun retailed for two thousand dollars after all.
But... for Locke, it was small change. He took out his gun permit, added the money, and bought a hunting permit for recommended prey. That was it.
Two exquisitely packaged boxes, one large and one small, were handed to Locke.
After all, even a pistol is merchandise. And merchandise usually comes with a box. As long as the box isn't lost, the manager said that if he left, he could come back and sell it back for half price.
Hmm.
He's a shrewd businessman.
George, Hank, and Erin, on the other hand, looked for a long time, dawdled for a while, then exchanged glances: "Forget it, let's just borrow two from the local police station."
If Locke hadn't just spent two thousand dollars, Locke felt that the owner of this store would definitely have pulled out the Remington 870 from under the counter and shot these two.
If you're not buying anything, why are you chattering on and picking out a bunch of gear?
Are you crazy?
If it weren't for the fact that the three of them ultimately bought a hunting license, such a thing might really have happened.
Outside the gun store.
George looked at Hank: "So, you're not buying a gun, but you came to a gun store?"
Hank looked at George: "I was waiting for you. I thought you were going to buy one. Besides, if I don't go to the gun store, should I go to the flower shop next door to buy flowers? What if I give Helen flowers and you don't have a weapon?"
George: "..."
199. Hank's first wife
This seemed to be a story about two old men bickering, and then only one handsome guy getting hurt.
After all… they went into the gun store together, and then only Locke bought anything the whole time.
George and Hank were completely just there to be gun stocks.
But… two thousand three hundred dollars was just a drop in the bucket.
Locke smiled at Gwen and said, "Come on, let's go hunting. The wild boars here are rampant. After we catch them, we'll immediately charter a plane to air freight them to Grandpa and Grandma."
Gwen nodded with a bright smile.
Not far away.
George looked at Hank, whose gaze had fallen on him, and directly raised his hand, expressionless: "This time, if our count loses to his, only one of us can go back."
Hank: "…"
What does that have to do with me?
You're an old police officer, and your marksmanship isn't even as good as a young kid's. Why don't you go jump in the river? There are plenty of bodies on the Hudson Riverbed, so you wouldn't be missed.
Hank really wanted to say that to his old friend George, but at the same time, he was also a little curious about Locke's marksmanship.
On the way, they found a fast-food restaurant and ate a meal. By the time they arrived at their destination, Marland County, it was almost four in the afternoon.
George and Hank stopped directly in front of the Marland County police station.
After a while.
Locke saw the local police chief, who seemed to be a practical chief, walk out of his office and shake hands with George and Hank.
After hearing George and Hank's intention to borrow guns, he didn't even think twice and immediately called a subordinate to take George and Hank to the gun room to pick out guns.
After all, federal officers were all one big family.
Not to mention, George and Hank were from big cities like New York and Chicago—one was a police inspector, and the other was even a detective.
These were all connections.
Borrowing a gun, making a good connection—in the future, if something happened and they went to New York or Chicago, this connection might come in handy sometime.
The federation, in the end, was actually also a society of connections.
Otherwise, why were Washington lobbyists and the letter of recommendation system so popular?
Locke, Gwen, and Helen sat in the police station's conference room, drinking the coffee enthusiastically served by the local police station.
Gwen looked at Locke, who was surveying his surroundings.
Locke, as always, would note down the terrain when he arrived at a new place—it was a habit. Then, meeting Gwen's questioning gaze, he smiled: "This should be my third time in a police station."
Gwen also looked around: "It feels no different from the New York Police Department's conference room."
Locke looked at the case bulletin board over there and then asked curiously: "Did we sit in the wrong conference room?"
On this bulletin board, case intelligence analysis was still posted.
A transport vehicle carrying a serial killer and several criminals overturned on the interstate highway twenty kilometers outside the town, and the serial killer and several criminals escaped from prison.
Very good.
Locke thought to himself. Frankly speaking, he had no ripples in his heart at all. He seemed to notice Gwen and Helen looking at the bulletin board and said, "How about we drive further away?"
He was here on vacation.
Suddenly seeing news of a serial killer and criminals escaping from prison, what was the meaning of this?
A police officer happened to walk in, carrying a plate of cookies and snacks. Hearing this, he smiled and said, "Don't worry, the police officers in William County have already blocked the roads. These people won't be able to escape to our side."
Why do I feel like this is another jinx?
Locke thought to himself as he looked at the police officer.
Helen, on the other hand, asked curiously: "Have they been caught yet?"
The police officer nodded: "We already know the general location. Most of the officers in the bureau have gone to assist the neighboring county, and the mountain roads leading to our side have also been blocked by forest rangers."
Helen nodded.
At this moment, George, Hank, and Eileen also pushed open the door and walked in. The three of them had five guns: a Remington 870, an M4 carbine, and a Stark Lightning A1 pistol.
Gwen looked at the pistol Eileen chose and asked curiously: "The caliber of a pistol can't penetrate a wild boar, can it?"
Eileen smiled and said: "I'm just here to play with Hank. I'm not interested in hunting."
Gwen nodded.
She wasn't interested in hunting either, but she was interested in Locke.
Locke felt Gwen's peripheral gaze and sipped his coffee.
George and Hank shook hands with the local police chief, then noticed the case bulletin board. They told the chief to call them if they needed anything.
After leaving their phone numbers.
Locke and the others left the police station.
After all, their booked hotel was outside the town, on the outskirts of the hunting ground. It was better to go early and get to know the other hunters who would be going into the mountains with them tomorrow.
As for the case that happened in the neighboring county?
George and Hank were here for tourism, not to steal credit. Strictly speaking, neither George nor Hank had jurisdiction here unless the local police invited them.
As for Locke, he was even less interested.
So, after the group left the police station, Locke drove his purchased equipment and rented car, while George and the others drove their rented equipment and car towards the hotel.
The hotel George booked was near the hunting ground. A few steps away, they could see the winding mountain road leading to the hunting ground.
The parking lot in front of the hotel was already quite full of cars.
The proprietress seemed to be friends with Hank. After seeing Hank get out of the car, she walked over, greeted him with a big hug, said "long time no see," and then they even exchanged a cheek kiss.
But… Locke saw it clearly: the proprietress moved her lips.
Her husband was just shaking hands with George nearby, wasn't he?
Committing a crime in front of her husband?
Was it that exciting right from the start?
Locke was slightly stunned, looking at the boss who was shaking hands with George not far away. Then, he turned his gaze to Helen.
Gwen probably wouldn't know, but Helen probably would.
Indeed.
Helen whispered: "Rebecca is Hank's first wife."
Locke was stunned: "First wife? Which wife is Hank on now?"
"The fourth, I think."
"…"
Well, I'll be.
I didn't see that coming.
Locke looked at Hank with some suspicion. After he finished hugging the proprietress named Rebecca, he then shook hands and talked with the boss like an old acquaintance. It seemed magical no matter how he looked at it.
It seemed Eileen was also very familiar with this Rebecca.
Helen explained to Locke: "Eileen, strictly speaking, is also Rebecca's adopted daughter. She was adopted when Rebecca and Hank hadn't divorced yet."
Locke suddenly understood.
No wonder.
However, although the relationships weren't very messy, Locke still needed to sort them out. After all, he felt he couldn't be like Hank, who could still chat and laugh with his ex-wife and even his ex-wife's husband after getting divorced.
Even like this, he felt like he had been cuckolded.
No, wait.
I'm not even married yet, why am I thinking about divorce?
Locke was slightly stunned, shook his head, and looked at Gwen next to him.
Gwen looked up at Locke, seemingly asking, "What's wrong?"
Locke smiled.
Gwen was so good; only a fool would divorce Gwen.
Moreover… Locke didn't think anything would happen that would lead him and Gwen down the path of divorce in the future.
After all, in a few years, Locke and Gwen's love would probably also turn into the love of childhood sweethearts.
Surely a heroine from the sky wouldn't suddenly appear, would she?
This isn't a novel!
After a while.
The proprietress, Rebecca, invited everyone inside. Then, she waved to the front desk and took four keys handed over by the front desk.
Helen and George got one.
Locke and Gwen got one.
Hank got one.
Eileen got one.
After Rebecca finished assigning them, she smiled and said: "There are exactly four rooms left, specifically reserved for you. If you hadn't called me two months in advance, I probably wouldn't have been able to free up these rooms."
Every year in June and July, grizzly bears and wild boars become rampant here, so many hunters come here during this time of year for a hunting trip.
George turned to look at the handsome wild boar about to spoil his cabbage right under his nose, and his brow twitched: "But, we're still missing…"
Rebecca was slightly stunned, then whispered to Hank beside her: "Didn't you say Locke was Gwen's boyfriend? I…"
George's gaze at Hank was very dangerous.
I brought you here to hunt wild boars, not to help the wild boars stab me in the back.
Helen pulled George and smiled: "No, the keys are just right, thank you, Rebecca."
Locke looked at Rebecca with a slight smile.
This first ex-wife of Hank, though it was their first meeting.
But, he liked her!
Locke opened his contacts, added twenty friendship points to Rebecca in the "strangers" column, and then moved her up to his friends list.
Don't underestimate his friends list.
Locke had very few people on his friends list.
Chester was naturally at the top, also with the highest friendship level, even a constant friendship level, the kind of close friend unlikely to fluctuate.
The second was naturally Gwen.
As for the third?
It wasn't Helen, and it certainly couldn't be George, but Rambo!
At the same time, John Rambo, who ran a farm in Texas near Mexico, was also one of the few people who knew Locke's true identity.
In short.
It was quite difficult to get on Locke's friends list, because Locke's principle for making friends had always been quality over quantity.
After all, friends were not just a title; they were also a relationship that required responsibility.
George opened his mouth, looking at Locke, and no matter how he looked at it, he felt this wild boar seemed to be saying, "Great!" He then directly said: "Gwen, you're in a room with Mom. Locke and I are in a room together."
Locke snapped back to reality: "…"
Gwen blinked: "…"
Two Hundred: Hunting in the Mountains
George's suggestion was downright sinister.
It was clearly meant to tear the loving couple apart.
And… it could easily get him killed.
Luckily Helen was there; she nipped George's reckless fantasy in the bud and saved his life.
After all… if George and Locke ended up in the same Room, by morning one of them might simply vanish.
Locke could guarantee the missing person wouldn't be him.
The lodge wasn't built with upstairs–downstairs corridors; it had one big main hall with single-story Rooms branching off on both sides.
Like a classic roadside motel.
Inside, each Room had everything you needed: bed, window, toilet, shower—nothing fancy, but it covered the basics.
Everyone here was a hunter who'd brought guns; if some idiot opened fire, the layout let trained folks dive for cover fast.
Of course,
this hunting-lodge catered only to regulars.
They were all friends of Hank's ex-wife Rebecca and her new husband, plus a few present or former officers from elsewhere.
That evening, during the barbecue, Locke even met a Ranger who'd ridden up from Texas.
'Walker!'
A weathered thirty-something in a broad Stetson, moustache thick, drawl thicker, shook Locke's hand. 'Cordell Walker!'
Locke offered his. 'Broughton—Locke Broughton.'
'I know you. Lone Star's youngest first-rank Cowboy.'
'Same to you.'
Cordell blinked.
Locke smiled. 'The you from another World.'
Hey there,
Sam Winchester!
Cordell shrugged off the odd remark, tipping his hat. 'So, Locke, you riding with us tomorrow? I recall—'
Locke turned to George. 'Stacy—George Stacy, NYPD Superintendent. This is Cordell, Texas Ranger.'
With that
he grabbed Gwen and—whoosh—slipped away.
Gwen blinked. 'What was that about?'
Back in New York, Locke always got chummy with fellow Texans, especially Cowboys.
But this time?
Of all the agencies in the country, the one Locke least wanted to meet was the Texas Rangers.
Put simply,
other departments might rely on hunches,
but the Rangers?
Those horse-mounted lawmen live by pure gut feeling.
Intuition and gut are two different beasts.
And here's the kicker.
Once they'd slipped to a quieter table, Locke whispered, 'Let me tell you a Texas tale: the Rangers are Hell-lord Mephisto's earth-side crew.'
Gwen tilted her head. 'Local folklore?'
Locke shrugged.
Yes and no. Ages ago one Ranger served Mephisto, using the badge to deliver fresh, tasty souls.
Just now Locke had caught a whiff of brimstone on Cordell Walker—faint but unmistakable.
And that scent felt a lot like Nightmare, yet purer.
Higher in rank than the demon prince Nightmare?
No question.
Mephisto himself.
Looked like the devil was only courting Cordell, hadn't closed the deal, but Locke was on vacation and wanted no extra trouble.
He mulled it over, then grinned at a sudden thought.
Of course.
Same face, forever tangled with Hell—change the name, switch states, pin on the Ranger star, and you're still tethered to the pit.
Gwen slipped her arm through his, eyeing the sizzling beef over the fire. 'We'll make it to Heaven, Locke.'
Locke: '…'
Heaven, huh?
He glanced upward.
Strict canon says Marvel has Hell, but no Heaven.
Yet this wasn't strict Marvel; still, in all his years he'd met demons, never an Angel.
He smiled down at her. 'Yeah—we'll reach the Silver City.'
Next morning
at first light the growl of dirt-bikes filled the air.
When Locke and Gwen stepped outside, George, Hank, and their new acquaintance Cordell were already geared up.
"Here, coffee!"
"Thanks."
Locke and Gwen walked into the main hall, accepted the two coffees Rebecca handed over, thanked her, passed one to Gwen, then looked curiously at George and Hank gathered round the big table: "Carving up the territory?"
"Yep."
Rebecca said, "The next county over sealed off their area because of what happened there."
The escaped maniac and several other killers.
Still, even without the lockdown, when thirty-plus hunters head into the hills they usually map out their own zones to avoid trouble.
Say a deer steps out: one shot from the left, one from the right—who does the carcass belong to?
Or worse—what if someone accidentally shoots a person?
Of course, anyone going in wears bright orange safety vests; unless you're blind, you don't squeeze the trigger at an orange moving target.
A short while later the group seemed to reach an agreement; they grabbed their maps and drifted off in twos and threes, ready to head into the mountains.
If they didn't get moving soon, they'd miss the boars' feeding time.
George and Hank came over.
"So?"
Rebecca smiled at them. "Did you snag a good spot?"
"Lake Lika."
"Nice."
Rebecca nodded toward Helen. "Like I said—if the hogs weren't overrunning the place, Lake Lika would be perfect for camping or a cook-out."
Lake Lika lay inside the mountains they were about to enter.
On the map it sat fairly close to the neighboring county, but that county's sealed zone was still south of the lake, a fair distance away.
And the officers over there were full of confidence; to them, the escaped maniac and his fellow killers had hopped into the woods like rabbits into a hole—easy pickings.
George handed Locke three orange safety vests.
Helen waved. "Rebecca and I will stay here and chat over coffee."
George blinked. "Weren't you coming with us?"
Helen shook her head. "No, dear. I said I hadn't seen Rebecca in ages—I never said I was hiking in. Go on, and bring Gwen and Locke back safe."
George got the message.
She was reminding him: just because she wasn't going in didn't mean he could make Locke disappear.
George tried one last time. "Gwen, if your mom's staying, why don't you stay too?"
Gwen took the orange vest from George, slipped it on, flicked her ponytail, and raised her binoculars. "I'm Locke's spotter."
Locke's purchase this time was a remington 770 with an eight-power scope—effective range eight hundred meters.
In Locke's hands, that Remington's real reach was surely farther—he figured at least two thousand meters.
Anything less wouldn't live up to his gun-fu.
For a player, the weapon's only a bonus; skill decides the kill.
Even a boar two kilometers out—Locke could blow its skull off with one shot.
George opened his mouth.
In the end he sighed, disappointed, glanced at Locke and thought, Forget it—time to plan that offshore fishing trip.
Locke noticed George's look.
He didn't let it bother him.
He was used to it, and worrying was pointless: Gwen was coming, binoculars and all. If Georgevanished now she'd lose her mind.
Better to go fishing.
Last time George hadn't worn a helmet; if Locke hadn't shown mercy, Gwen's step-dad would currently be in line to ride in on a horse.
"R-r-r!"
George and Hank straddled an off-road rally bike. Watching Locke fit Gwen's helmet, George asked, "All set?"
Locke gave an OK sign.
Hank said, "Coordinates are loaded—just follow them. We'll scout for game first."
"Got it."
Hank twisted the throttle and roared onto the dirt trail; Erin, also on a bike, waved to Locke and Gwenand followed.
Locke checked Gwen's helmet, made sure it was secure, then said, "Hold tight—here we go."
Gwen wrapped her arms around Locke's waist and murmured, "Mm-hmm."
Locke tapped the small screen on the handlebar; it lit up with a route prompt from here to Lake Lika.
Next second.
Locke gunned the throttle.
They were off.
The Hunt!!