In the afternoon, Locke arrived at the Oscorp Industrial Building to pick up Gwen from work.
The moment Gwen got into the car, she pulled up the photos Kim had sent her earlier that morning.
It was an entire sequence of photos.
*Click, click, click.*
Every single movement of Locke and Miriam crossing the street and getting into the car had been captured frame-by-frame. If you blinked fast enough to smooth out the transition, it practically looked like a video.
Locke let out a quiet breath.
Excellent.
This definitely wasn't going to be settled by merely booking her a private flight or attending her auction anymore.
Fine!
Next summer, if that girl still refused to go to Paris, he would personally step up, tie her up, and sell her straight to the Albanian mob.
Locke thought to himself.
He started the engine.
"That was Mrs. Miriam Shelton. She's the appraisal expert you mentioned before—the one who gives fantastic lectures whenever we go to the history museum."
"I know."
Gwen put her phone away and smiled. "Pepper treated me to lunch the day before yesterday, and when we went shopping at the mall afterward, we actually bumped into Mrs. Shelton. Stark Industries is one of the primary donors for the history museum."
Locke chuckled. "Really?"
Gwen nodded, and then asked with a hint of curiosity,
"But Locke, how do you even know Mrs. Shelton?"
Locke replied,
"I was bored yesterday afternoon and went for a stroll. It just so happened that Mrs. Shelton was giving a lecture. By the way, do you remember that guy from the DA's office who came looking for me?"
Gwen offered a soft hum in response.
Locke then explained how he had spotted Nick Rice and Miriam Shelton together that morning, shrugging his shoulders as he finished.
"I always felt like that guy from the DA's office had some hidden agenda. It looked like he was practically threatening Mrs. Shelton, so I stepped in."
Gwen looked slightly taken aback.
"Why on earth was he looking for Mrs. Shelton?"
Locke shook his head. "Who knows."
He knew exactly why, but he couldn't say it.
Though give it a few days, and it shouldn't matter anymore.
Right now?
Those two Voodoo dolls were probably still going through the prison processing system—they might not even be cleaned up yet.
Killing that malicious guy right this second wouldn't count as *the snipe and the clam clash, and the fisherman reaps the rewards*; it would just be *the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind*.
Better to wait a couple of days.
Locke thought to himself, and then smoothly changed the subject.
"Alright, let's not talk about them. How was your day? Any progress with the experiment?"
"We're completely stuck at that same hurdle."
Gwen let out a sigh. Even though she wasn't working full-time there, she knew exactly how much effort Dr. Connors and the other colleagues had poured into it since the start of the year.
"But Dr. Connors said that's just how experimentation goes sometimes. We can't lose heart. Once we push past this single barrier, all the remaining difficulties won't be a problem anymore."
Locke smiled warmly. "Keep at it."
Gwen offered a soft smile in return.
"So, where are we heading for dinner?"
"Home."
"Huh?"
Locke pointed toward the trunk.
"Helen mentioned she tried calling you earlier but couldn't get through. She asked if you and I had any plans tonight, and when I told her we didn't, she mentioned the house was running low on a few things and asked if I could pick them up. So, we're heading home."
Gwen pulled out her phone again and blinked in confusion.
"That's weird. Mom didn't leave any missed calls."
Right at that moment...
The missed call notification from the network provider finally arrived, fashionably late as always.
Gwen rolled her eyes.
"This terrible New York cellular service. I'm switching providers sooner or later."
Locke burst into a hearty laugh.
...
By the time they arrived back at Gwen's apartment, George happened to be pulling up as well.
Locke watched George get out of his police cruiser in his crisp white shirt. Carrying the groceries Helen had requested, Locke walked up to greet George, and they stepped into the elevator together. Locke smiled and asked,
"Mr. Stacy, did you manage to find any traces of the Peerless Assassin today?"
Standing just ahead, George raised his head slightly and turned around. He shot a glance at Locke, who was lagging half a step behind him—a posture that anyone else might view as gentlemanly manners, but to George, looked entirely like someone deliberately poking at his sore spots.
Turning back around, George stepped out of the elevator and grunted, "No."
That absolute curse of a Peerless Assassin.
Whenever George thought about his ultimate lifelong nemesis, his teeth practically itched with frustration. Sometimes he even caught himself silently cursing: 'With so many criminals running rampant in New York City, how long do you plan on resting? Get out here and do your job!'
Locke watched George walk away without another word and let out a quiet chuckle.
Beside him, Gwen lightly nudged Locke's shoe with her own, wearing a completely helpless expression.
After all, the dynamic between her boyfriend and her father seemed to mirror the exact same stubborn rivalry between her dad and her grandfather, which left her in a rather awkward position.
Locke gestured defensively, indicating that George had started it first.
When he was driving to Oscorp earlier that afternoon, he had distinctly noticed several traffic cops at a major intersection looking at his license plate, and one of them had even whipped out a pair of binoculars to stare at him.
Without a doubt, that had to be the work of NYPD Deputy Chief George Stacy. Just to get one up on his son-in-law, the man had actually resorted to pulling administrative rank.
Unbelievable.
Locke felt that his own contributions were undeniably the central reason George had managed to rise from a mere detective to his current high position.
To put it bluntly: without him, could George have ever secured the textile mill's roster? Without him, would George even be alive to negotiate with SHIELD?
Clearly, Locke felt his absolute goodwill had been met with complete ingratitude.
It was truly heartbreaking.
Entering the apartment, Locke and Gwen each carried a bag of groceries into the living room. Helen, who was already home, rifled through the bags and pulled out a bottle of cooking red wine. She looked at Locke with a pleased expression.
"Wonderful! I was worried you wouldn't remember the brand and was wondering if I should have texted it to you."
Locke replied smoothly,
"This is practically my second home. How could I possibly forget what brands we use around here?"
He didn't forget because his Mind Palace wouldn't allow him to suffer such a cognitive decline.
Helen was well aware of Locke's exceptional memory techniques, but his answer was clearly exactly the kind of response she loved to hear. She pointed toward the sofa.
"Alright, you and Gwen head back to the room and hang out for a bit. George, get over here and help me chop the vegetables."
Having just taken off his coat and preparing to pour himself a post-work drink, George looked up. He blinked as he watched Helen bustled directly into the kitchen.
Locke walked over, smiling warmly as he gracefully took the freshly poured glass right out of George's hand.
"Mr. Stacy, let me handle this drink for you. Otherwise, it won't taste as good if it sits out for too long."
George's eyebrows twitched violently as he stared at Locke's brilliant smile.
Standing right behind Locke, Gwen could only offer a helpless, pleading expression to George, silently begging her beloved father not to lower himself to her boyfriend's level.
...
After dinner, they returned upstairs.
The moment Gwen closed her bedroom door, she couldn't hold it in any longer. Looking at Locke sitting in the computer chair, she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Speaking of which, I completely held up my end of the bargain regarding that promise. Have you found an opportunity to let my dad win yet?"
Locke looked slightly startled.
"I said a draw, Gwen. A draw is the absolute limit of what I can accept."
Gwen rolled her eyes.
"I don't care what you call it, as long as it makes my dad happy so the two of you stop bickering all day long. Have you thought of a way?"
Locke nodded.
Gwen's eyes instantly lit up.
"You actually thought of something?"
"Of course," Locke said smoothly. "You already gave me the reward, so how could I not put my heart into it?"
Unfolding the blanket, Gwen sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Locke with immense anticipation. "So, how do you plan to lose... I mean, play to a draw with my dad?"
Locke suggested, "How about golf?"
Gwen blinked in surprise. "Golf?"
Locke hummed in agreement.
Gwen blinked again.
"But my dad has never played golf in his entire life."
Locke smiled warmly. "Exactly."
After calculating every option, golf was the only sport where engineering a draw would be relatively easy.
Ping-pong?
With Locke's natural coordination, he wouldn't even need to activate any system skills. Even if he gave George a three-point head start and played completely blindfolded, George wouldn't stand a chance of winning.
Besides, ping-pong was a game with a definitive winner and loser.
Target shooting was even more out of the question.
Golf was the perfect choice.
Coincidentally, Locke had never played it either. Furthermore, now that George had reached the rank of Deputy Chief, it was high time for him to start learning how upper-class social networking worked.
After all, in this country, an enormous number of professional matters were ironed out while playing golf.
It killed two birds with one stone.
Locke felt he was practically wearing himself out looking out for George's career advancement.
And yet, George didn't even know how to be grateful.
Locke let out a small sigh, looking at Gwen as he shrugged.
"See, Gwen? I respect George just as much as you do."
Hearing Locke's thoughtful explanation about the networking benefits, Gwen felt a wave of warmth. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Locke.
After all, being alone together in her room was a common occurrence by now; Helen was undoubtedly completely aware of it, while George simply chose to pretend he didn't notice.
Then...
Just as they were preparing to take things a step further, Helen's voice echoed up from downstairs.
"Gwen, your dad is heading out!"
"..."
Gwen broke the kiss and blinked in surprise.
Locke looked slightly stunned as well.
Heading downstairs, they found George already changed into plain clothes and double-checking his holster.
"Dad," Gwen called out as she hurried down the stairs, looking anxious. "Has the Peerless Assassin appeared again?"
Following behind her, Locke's expression turned a bit peculiar.
How long had it even been?
It hadn't even been eight months yet, and another copycat was already popping up?
However, George shook his head. "No, there's a shooting over at the Bauhinia Community. Marcus lives right around there, so I'm heading over to check it out."
Marcus—one of George's close friends.
The Bauhinia Community?
Wasn't that the residential neighborhood where Clyde and Miriam Shelton lived?
When Locke had given Miriam Shelton a ride earlier that morning, that was the exact neighborhood he drove to.
Could it be?
Locke looked at George with a curious expression.
"George, which house did the shootout happen at?"
While putting on his shoes, George replied, "Number 55. Why? Do you know someone in the Bauhinia Community?"
Locke raised an eyebrow and admitted directly,
"I actually just met someone from there this morning. And if I remember correctly, her house number happens to be Number 55."
George paused his shoe-tying and snapped his head up to look.
Locke turned his gaze toward Gwen.
"It's Mrs. Miriam Shelton's house."
Gwen gasped, covering her mouth in shock. "Oh my God!"
***
Bonus chappy. Hope you all have a great day. Bleach new cour blessed my eyes 😏
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