Before Locke ever left Texas for New York, he had spent countless hours pouring over satellite maps, studying the local geography, and mapping out the city's surrounding environment.
He had prepared a series of contingency plans.
And as it happened.
He was about to put one of those plans into action right now.
Straight-hook fishing!
Just on the outskirts of New York, after crossing the bridge, one enters rural New Jersey, right across the Manhattan River.
Half an hour later.
Locke pulled into the parking lot of a massive warehouse supermarket, parked his car, and hailed a taxi.
"New Jersey Water Treatment Plant!"
"Sure thing."
The driver quickly pulled away with Locke in the back.
The New Jersey Water Treatment Plant was in the suburbs, but it had long been abandoned. Aside from the occasional group of teenagers looking for an "urban exploration" adventure, people rarely ventured out there.
Before long.
Locke paid his fare and stepped out of the cab.
The taxi performed a U-turn and sped away in a cloud of dust.
Locke watched the retreating taillights of the taxi, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Is that it?
I'm just an innocent, cute sixteen-year-old boy. What bad intentions could I possibly have? Is this really necessary?
Locke chuckled under his breath, turned, and walked directly into the abandoned plant.
Five minutes later.
That same taxi returned!
*Click.*
Inside the car, a balding, middle-aged man known in the underworld as "The Butcher" holstered his pistol and looked at the taxi driver. "You're sure you saw him go in?"
The driver nodded. "Don't worry. While he was in the car, I hacked his phone. I've got a lock on his location; he's right inside."
The Butcher—who had just finished training Wesley and currently had nothing better to do—eyes flickered with curiosity. "A sixteen-year-old high school student who just transferred here... what's he doing running off to a place like this?"
The driver shook his head.
He was at the absolute bottom of the Fraternity's hierarchy—essentially a hitman intern. He was decent with a gun, but he was a low-level lackey who couldn't even perform a Curve Bullet.
In the Fraternity, only those who mastered the Curve Bullet were considered qualified to handle real contracts.
He had been training for two years and still hadn't grasped it.
After all...
He wasn't Wesley. He didn't have the "chosen one" status that warranted the boss spending massive amounts of time and energy to fast-track his growth. Killers like him usually spent their days as ordinary employees or information gatherers.
A cruel smile spread across The Butcher's fleshy face. "Fine. Wait here for me."
The intern nodded. "Understood."
Stepping out of the car.
The Butcher scanned the surroundings, confirmed they were alone, and headed toward the plant.
In his mind, this was likely just another fool who liked to play "explorer" in desolate places.
Perfect.
It saved him the trouble of cleaning up after the kill.
Entering the water plant.
The Butcher slowed his pace, his eyes fixed on the phone in his hand. The screen showed a single red dot.
Locke's GPS location.
Except...
When The Butcher saw the phone sitting on top of an abandoned iron barrel in the distance, he froze for a moment.
"What?"
The Butcher walked over. The phone screen lit up, revealing a message: "Sorry to keep you waiting."
What the hell?
The Butcher's pupils contracted as he spun around.
A flash of cold light struck first.
Then...
"Bang!"
Locke dropped from the iron rafters above like a predator. In mid-air, his right leg shot out like a dragon emerging from its cave. With a heavy *thud*, he kicked the pistol right out of The Butcher's hand.
The Fraternity's "Curve Bullet" skill meant all their power was in the gun.
Locke knew full well that if he entered a shootout with a Fraternity assassin, he'd likely lose.
He couldn't curve bullets.
Not yet!
"Bang bang!"
The Butcher had raised his guard the moment he turned. Though Locke had managed to kick away his gun, The Butcher's close-quarters combat skills were formidable.
He was built like a tank, and his strength was immense.
"One strength to overcome ten skills" was the perfect description for The Butcher.
"Thud!"
"Crack!"
The Butcher cracked his neck side to side, his eyes locked onto Locke. He bared his teeth in a grin. "Interesting. I thought you were just an ordinary high school kid. I didn't expect this."
Locke's smile mirrored his own. "And I didn't expect the Fraternity to take such an interest in me the moment I arrived in New York. I feel honored."
"Is that so?"
The Butcher gave a savage laugh and charged forward like a juggernaut. "I'll make sure to give you a proper welcome!"
Die!
"Bang!"
"What?"
The Butcher dodged violently to the side. A second later, he hit the ground like a falling hog, kicking up a cloud of dust.
But...
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
The Silver Dancer in Locke's hand barked repeatedly. Expressionless, Locke sent one bullet after another from the muzzle, the muzzle flashes illuminating the area as he pinned down The Butcher—whose agility was surprisingly high given his bulk.
Only an idiot would fight you hand-to-hand.
Locke was currently broke. He had only brought a few sets of clothes to New York. What was he supposed to do if these got ruined?
"Bang!"
"Argh!"
The Butcher let out a low roar of pain. He rolled behind an iron barrel, clutching his bleeding leg, and suddenly hurled a meat cleaver that gleamed with cold light.
*Clang!*
The cleaver slammed into the ground, burying itself deep.
The next second.
"Bang!"
"Thud!"
Locke's eyes narrowed. He blurred to the side. He could almost see the golden bullet whizzing past his eyes, missing him by a hair before slamming into the distance.
"Kid," The Butcher shouted. "You didn't think I only had one—"
"Bang!"
"Ugh!"
The Butcher's eyes bulged. He looked down, staring in disbelief at the bullet hole that had appeared in his chest.
How...
Possible!
Locke walked calmly over to The Butcher. He looked down at the man clutching his chest and let the corners of his mouth turn up. "You didn't think I only knew how to shoot in a straight line, did you?"
The Butcher: "..."
...
『Medium-Grade Copy Card: Sold in the Game shop for 50,000 Achievement Points. Using a Treasure Refresh Coupon gives a chance to get it for 90% off. Upon successful use, it immediately copies a skill used by an NPC. The skill level is converted based on the target's level.』
『Copy Successful!』
『Curve Bullet: Blue Quality, Intermediate. Ordinary marksmanship is linear and uninspired, but your marksmanship is flashy and extremely lethal!』
...
While Locke's ideal target for copying would have been Cross.
But...
Locke had investigated last night and found that Cross had already gone rogue, and Wesley had already joined the "factory."
For now?
Intermediate level would do!
"You..."
The Butcher was clearly losing strength. His eyes were wide as he struggled to ask how Locke knew the Curve Bullet technique. But perhaps realizing it was too much effort to speak, the words turned into: "Who... are you really!"
Locke knelt beside The Butcher, watching the light fade from the man's eyes. His smile widened. "You want to know? I'm not telling."
The words fell.
Locke raised his gun.
*Bang!*