Downtown Los Angeles. The Continental Hotel.
The modified Ford Mustang growled as it turned onto the street.
The bullet holes left by Mrs. Smith's sniper rifle two weeks ago were gone. Hunter had personally restored the car. Dominic Toretto had sunk nearly $300,000 into this machine, and Hunter had upgraded the internals even further. It wasn't just a muscle car anymore; it was a track beast capable of rivaling any supercar.
Hunter eased the car into a vacant spot right in front of the building.
The hotel was unassuming amidst the skyscrapers of LA. It was a fourteen-story structure, its architecture stuck in the late 70s—brutalist concrete mixed with Art Deco holdovers.
As he stepped out and locked the car, he felt eyes on him.
Valets stood by the entrance, dressed in crisp uniforms. Hunter scanned them. Sharp gazes. Steady heartbeats. Controlled breathing.
Rumors are true, Hunter thought. The staff aren't just hospitality workers. They're hitmen.
"Welcome, sir."
The heavy glass doors swung open before he even reached for the handle. A doorman stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.
"Mr. Hunter Sun. Right this way, please."
Hunter wasn't surprised they knew his face. He nodded silently and followed.
Inside, the lobby was a blend of old-world luxury and quiet menace. As he walked, the few patrons in the lounge turned to look.
Scrutiny. Curiosity. And in some eyes—disdain.
Hunter noted the faces of those sneering at him. He was a petty man when it came to disrespect. If they left him alone, fine. But if they tried to test the "rookie," they would find out that John Wick wasn't the only one capable of tearing the High Table apart.
Wick is human, Hunter thought. I am... something else.
With stats four times that of a normal man, Hunter was evolving past human limits.
He was led to the front desk.
Behind the counter stood a middle-aged white man with a warm, disarming smile. He radiated professional hospitality, but his eyes were sharp as flint.
"Mr. Sun. Welcome to the Continental."
The man leaned forward slightly.
"I am Cole Dawson. You may call me Cole. I am the Concierge of the Los Angeles branch."
Cole's smile widened. "If you choose to register your membership with us, I will be at your service."
Hunter's mind, boosted by his high Intelligence stat, processed the wording instantly.
"Call me Hunter," he replied. "You said 'if I choose.' Does that mean I can register at other branches? What's the difference?"
Cole's expression didn't flicker. He had answered this question a thousand times.
"One moment."
Cole picked up the receiver of an antique telephone. "Kim, I need you at the desk."
He hung up and stepped out from behind the counter to stand face-to-face with Hunter.
"Strictly speaking, the privileges are universal," Cole explained smoothly. "However, your 'Home Branch' determines your territory. If you register in LA, priority contracts on the West Coast will flow to you first."
"There are also... local benefits," Cole added, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Every branch has its unique flavor. I believe you will find ours quite agreeable."
"Beyond that, the standard rules apply. Sanctuary. Resupply. Medical services. Information brokerage."
Hunter nodded, feigning contemplation.
Cole leaned in closer. "Trust me, Hunter. You won't be disappointed with Los Angeles. But regardless of your choice, you are always a guest here."
Hunter paused. He liked the vibe. It was professional, efficient, but with a hint of West Coast relaxed danger.
"I'll register here," Hunter said. "Can you take me through the process?"
Cole beamed, extending a hand. Hunter shook it firmly.
"A wise choice," Cole said. "I will personally handle your induction and the payout for the Snod contract. And as a token of appreciation for your trust, I have a small welcome gift prepared."
Ding.
The elevator doors opened.
A young woman in professional office attire stepped out. She was striking—blonde, sharp features, dangerous grace. She walked past them to the desk, nodding at Cole.
"All yours, Kim," Cole said.
Hunter caught her eye as she passed. There was a glint of amusement in her gaze as she looked him over.
He didn't linger on it. He turned and followed Cole toward the elevators.
"This way, Mr. Sun. Let's make you official."
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