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Morin didn't stay with the group for training. He went off to do other things.
After all, for him, the most powerful and useful things of an Assassin Masterlong-range sniping, curved shooting, and the cell regeneration fluidhe already had two of them.
And as for long-range snipingthat was Carlos's specialty.
Before Wesley successfully learned curved shooting, Morin felt that Carlos probably wouldn't be in the mood to teach that skill.
As for curved shootinghaving it was pretty much the same as not having it. Whether he could use it or not depended on if Morin could feel that so-called "instinct."
Morin tried a few times on the way and was very certain that the "instinct" cheat was not compatible with him and could not be loaded.
"It seems I am indeed a decent and scientific person!"
Morin lamented as he activated his stealth, turned into a shadow, and moved at an extremely high speed, like a "ghost," silently infiltrating the heavily guarded villa in front of him under the cover of night.
Inside the villa's study.
The governor of New York, Anderson Cole, was looking at a document.
Just then, a cold gun barrel was pressed against the back of his head.
"Don't make a sound, Mr. Anderson," Morin whispered in Anderson's ear.
"Go and close the study door, tell the bodyguards outside not to disturb you. Also, close the windows and draw the curtains. After that, we'll talk about something, shall we?"
Anderson calmly stood up and followed Morin's instructions. He didn't make any special movements.
Anderson was smart. Since this man could so easily and undetectably break into his villa and into his study, and didn't kill him immediately, but instead said he wanted to talk, it was best to do as he said, since he was defenseless.
No matter what, preserving his life was the top priority.
As long as he was alive, anything was possible. If his life was gone, everything was truly lost.
"Very good. It seems the first step of our friendly communication is going well."
Morin nodded in satisfaction. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Governor Anderson. Do I need to introduce myself?"
When Anderson turned around, his heart sank.
The Morin he saw was not wearing a mask or anything else. He was showing his face as it was!
Of course, this was what he saw and thought. In reality, what he didn't know was that Morin was wearing an Ethan Hunt-like hyper-realistic mask.
Disguises shouldn't compromise your looks, right?
"What do you want?" Anderson asked in a low voice.
"Money? Or something else?"
"No, no, of course not," Morin shook his head. "If I wanted money, I should be robbing a bank, not coming to see you."
"So, you want to kill me?" Anderson asked. "Are you a killer?"
"It seems you're also aware of the existence of killers. But that makes sense. After all, the Continental Hotel is so openly established in New York City. As the governor, it would be strange if you didn't know about it."
Morin nodded. "I am indeed a killer. A killer from the Continental Hotel."
"Is the High Table crazy?" Anderson said in disbelief.
"They dare to break the rules!"
"Oh" Morin's eyes narrowed slightly.
"It seems there's some kind of deal between you and the High Table?"
"You don't know anything. Are you just a simple killer?"
Anderson was so angry he wanted to swear. "
You're here to kill me because you got a bounty on me, right?"
"Do you know why the High Table is able to open the Continental Hotel in New York in the first place?"
"A long time ago, they sent a large number of killers to threaten the US government!"
"Those killers are indeed everywhere, but we're not pushovers either. If the two sides were to go to war, our high-level personnel would suffer great losses, and the High Table would be completely eradicated by all countries working together, at any cost!"
"However, if it really came to that, it would be a huge price that any country would find difficult to accept. So, we've maintained a state of balance with the High Table."
"We allow the High Table to operate twelve Continental
Hotels worldwide and allow their other subsidiary organizations to exist, but in return, they are absolutely not allowed to lay a hand on important figures in our national institutions and must pay a regular tribute!"
"And now, you've received a bounty and came to kill me?"
"Do you know what this means? Do you know what would happen if I die at your hands?"
"I can't say for sure what will happen between the US and the High Table, but I can say one thing for certain: after you get that commission, your days are numbered!"
"At that point, both the US and the High Table will come after you! Your life will no longer belong to you, and at that point, whether you live or die will no longer be in your control!"
"So now, young man, haven't you realized that you're being used as a pawn?"
"Stand down, leave immediately. I can pretend this never happened and will absolutely not target you. I promise.
Afterwards, the retaliation will only be directed at the Continental Hotel!"
Anderson delivered a perfect, even better-than-usual, political speech. His words were logical and touching.
However, Morin just looked at Anderson, unmoved.
Anderson was getting anxious. "Why don't you understand? What is it you don't understand? Or do you not believe me? Tell me, and I'll explain it to you!"
"No, no, I'm not disbelieving you, Mr. Anderson," Morin shook his head.
"I believe every word you just said is true well, except for the part about not retaliating against me afterwards. But that doesn't really matter."
"So you're determined to kill me?" Anderson asked.
"Mr. Anderson, perhaps you still don't understand what I mean, or maybe I didn't make myself clear from the start."
Morin sat leisurely on the sofa, putting his handgun to the side.
"Even a real killer who received a bounty to kill you would give up on the mission after hearing what you just said."
"But when did I ever say that I came here to kill you?"
Morin had a very innocent look on his face. "Didn't I say from the start that I came here to talk about something with you?"
Anderson: ""
"Huh?" Anderson was completely dumbfounded.
"Yes," Morin nodded earnestly.
"You're not a killer?"
"I am a killer."
"You're a killer, but you came here not to kill me?"
"Yeah. Is that hard to understand?"
"It's not hard to understand! It's impossible to understand!"
Anderson almost had a brain hemorrhage from anger.
So, you, a killer, sneak into my house, not to kill me. Then what for?
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