Deep into the night.
A country house in the suburbs of New York.
Gregory "Grim Reaper" Scarpa crawled up from the woman's belly. This woman had just claimed hundreds of millions of lives, and he felt that women were the true "reapers."
(TN: This is a dirty joke—she's basically swallowing "millions of our little comrades.")
Lighting a cigarette afterward, Scarpa leaned against the headboard, holding his phone while contemplating what to do next.
Gallo was furious about the failed assassination attempt on Carlo Gambino, but there was nothing he could do.
Gambino was not so easy to kill.
Actually, Scarpa wasn't really in favor of assassinating Gambino. Killing Gambino would only bring trouble upon himself. Gallo was crazy, but he wasn't.
He just wanted to kill the Yacovelli faction members and end this conflict as soon as possible.
After flipping through the list and considering his options, Scarpa walked to the window and looked at the soldiers patrolling and guarding the area outside the villa.
There were just too many assassins in New York lately.
He felt terrified wherever he went.
You never knew when a woman playing the violin on the street might suddenly pull out a gun and assassinate you.
And those beggars in subway stations and on the streets might be hiding guns under their tattered clothes.
Killers were everywhere.
Just then, a message came through the walkie-talkie from one of his men.
"Boss! There's an intruder here—"
Boom!
The voice cut off instantly.
"Harry, I want Scarpa alive. I still have questions for him."
Luca's voice came through the headset.
Harry grunted in response and expertly changed the magazine on his pistol with one hand.
"No problem. Leave it to me."
Because he also wanted him to live.
And ideally, he wanted to get information about Gallo and the others out of Scarpa.
Harry was now a regular at the club.
On the surface, he went there to pick up girls and drink. In reality, he was gathering intelligence and hacking into systems.
However, Luca rarely talked to him about missions.
He also couldn't infiltrate other areas of the club—especially the rooms on the top floor.
No one could enter unless Luca personally invited them.
Security was extremely tight.
There was a security supervisor who liked to wear round sunglasses, which gave Harry the strong impression that he was definitely not someone to mess with.
Until tonight.
When Luca provided him with some intelligence, Harry realized that his opportunity had finally arrived.
After reloading, Harry raised his pistol and fired a silenced shot, blowing the head off a man diagonally in front of him.
Harry burst into the villa through the side door.
The moment he entered, several assassins rushed at him face-to-face.
Harry rolled on the spot as several bullets narrowly missed him.
Hiding behind a sofa, Harry lunged forward, emptied his magazine, and took down three assassins.
Another assassin rushed in, looking confused.
Harry reached to his waist.
A dagger flew out instantly and pierced the assassin's face.
Harry remained completely calm after doing all of this.
When conducting espionage overseas or fighting terrorists, the situation could be far more dangerous than this.
Usually, he handled it all alone.
---
A car was parked on the roadside about a hundred meters away from the villa.
From here, the intense gunfire in the distance could be clearly heard.
"Calm down, baby."
Mr. Nobody crouched down to comfort the dog, then picked up his phone and made a call.
"Dove, are you sure that guy can handle it by himself? There are a lot of guards inside."
Luca's calm voice came through the phone.
"Why don't you go over and help him?"
Mr. Nobody chuckled, revealing his bright white teeth.
"Is there an extra reward? I'll go if there's money."
All you care about is bounty, huh?
Luca always had a way with characters whose loyalty could be quickly boosted with money.
"Do you really need money? How much do you make a month now?"
That question hit Mr. Nobody's sore spot.
The advantage of being a freelance hunter was freedom—no rules, no organization.
The disadvantage was the same thing.
No fixed income.
He could only rely on the text messages from the Continental Hotel.
The bounties issued by the Continental Hotel were sent to every assassin's phone through encrypted messages.
But the competition for those bounties was brutal.
Every assassin could see the public missions.
But the private missions?
He had no chance at those.
If the Continental Hotel didn't offer a reward, he had to rely on personal connections and acquaintances to land contracts.
It was unstable.
But one successful job could support him for a long time.
Mr. Nobody's biggest dream was simple.
Save enough money for retirement.
At least ten or twenty million dollars.
Then retire honorably.
"I make at least one or two million a month now."
Mr. Nobody deliberately exaggerated the number to show off his ability.
"Many assassin organizations are willing to hire me because I can track down the people they want."
"Then help me find someone else so you can earn a little more this month," Luca said casually.
"This mission is relatively simple. You know the Global Engineering Group, right?"
"They sent a mechanic to New York for an assassination mission."
"I need you to help me find out who they sent."
Those mechanics who were obsessively clean?
Mr. Nobody thought for a moment.
"I want 1 million."
"Round it down to 100 Thousands."
"…"
"I'm not in a hurry," Luca continued calmly.
"The task is here. Do it if you want. The deadline is before they leave New York."
Mr. Nobody choked for a moment.
"He always cut down a zero…"
But seeing Luca's indifferent tone, Mr. Nobody realized something.
Luca might not actually be in a rush.
It was just verifying a piece of information.
Not difficult at all.
Mr. Nobody's laughed.
"100,000 it is. Deal."
Just as he finished speaking, a line of police cars appeared in the distance.
He's expression changed slightly.
Shit.
Why are the police here?
"Dove, the police are here! Damn it, how did they get the news?"
"Huh? The police are here?"
Luca's voice suddenly became colder.
"Nobody, it seems your information isn't exclusive after all. Maybe I should've cooperated with the police instead. At least they weren't charging this much."
"Damn it! I was definitely the first one to track down Scarpa!"
Nobody muttered angrily.
"I underestimated these police officers. They actually figured it out this quickly."
Luca replied calmly.
"My man is still in there. If he gets caught by the police, I'll have to pay to get him out."
"And now I'm starting to question your offer."
"I paid millions for this intelligence, and the police have the same information?"
"Explain something to me."
"Is your intelligence really worth that much money?"
"That's none of my business," Nobody said.
At the same time, he quickly led the dog away.
He had no intention of being seen by the police.
"Dove! We had an agreement! You can't go back on your word!"
---
The car stopped by the roadside.
David and John McClane stepped out.
The gunshots were deafening.
David rubbed his ears.
"Is it really this intense?"
"Is Scarpa really in there?" McClane asked curiously.
David shrugged.
"That's the intelligence I received."
He didn't say where it came from.
But David and McClane immediately understood.
They exchanged a smile.
The ole Dove of Peace had delivered another achievement to them.
McClane put on his bulletproof vest, grabbed his weapon, and shouted loudly.
"Alright, boys, let's move!"
"You unlucky bastard! It's your turn now!"
"Damn it! Lady Luck is on my side tonight!"
McClane strode into the villa like a tank, clearing a path with brute force and smashing down anyone who stood in his way.
What happened next was no surprise.
Harry had nearly wiped out the entire villa by himself.
When McClane arrived, the remaining assassins were either captured or killed while resisting.
Scarpa was captured alive.
The spy "assassin" Harry managed to escape after a fierce fight with McClane.
Harry had never seen such a strong and relentless federal officer before.
The man had fought him to a standstill.
Is that really necessary?
Police officers barely get paid.
Do they really need to work this hard?
Harry's opinion of American federal law enforcement unexpectedly improved.
Maybe the police in this country weren't all useless after all.
Since the other party was a police officer, Harry didn't want to use lethal force.
Besides, he wasn't confident he could kill him anyway.
After a brief struggle, he was almost captured.
After leaving the villa, Harry quickly found his logistics team deep in the forest behind the property.
"Let's retreat. The mission failed," Harry said helplessly.
"I didn't expect the police to arrive so quickly."
Several colleagues stared at him in disbelief.
Could Harry actually fail a mission?
"How are you going to explain this to the Dove?" one of them asked.
"You finally gained his trust, and your first cooperation failed."
Harry fell silent.
This was indeed a serious problem.
He rubbed his hair in frustration.
"The more important issue now is Scarpa. That guy might hold very important clues, and now he's in police custody."
"Let's contact the FBI and ask them to hand him over."
"As for the Dove … I'll explain it to him later."
---
Outside the villa.
McClane wiped his bleeding lip.
"Damn. That guy was tough. He actually managed to injure me."
David wasn't surprised.
"When have you ever completed a mission without getting hurt?"
"As long as you don't die, it's fine."
Am I just born to get beaten up?
McClane was speechless for a moment, then grinned.
"Well, we caught Scarpa this time. That's a huge achievement."
David laughed too.
"Don't celebrate too early."
"Scarpa still has another use for us."
They turned around.
Next to the police car stood a middle-aged man wearing pajamas.
Scarpa.
Scarpa was completely stunned.
First he had been beaten half to death by Harry Trask.
Then beaten again by John McClane.
Before he could even process what was happening, his hands were already cuffed.
He knew he was probably finished this time.
The police had tracked him here.
That meant they probably already had plenty of evidence.
Just the illegal firearms and drugs in the villa earlier were enough to bury him.
Not to mention the massacre that had just taken place.
And Scarpa himself had long been a priority target for both the police and the FBI.
But then something unexpected happened.
When he was taken to a safe house…
Met a lawyer named Richie…
And heard that the FBI wanted him to become an informant…
Scarpa was stunned for a long time.
"The choice is yours."
This time, Richie didn't waste words.
"Should we hand you over to Carlo Gambino so he can kill you?"
"Or will you accept protection and become an FBI informant?"
Scarpa forced a bitter smile.
How could these policemen be so shameless?
They kept threatening to hand him to Gambino.
If he fell into Gambino's hands, he would die even if he had nine lives.
Richie continued calmly.
"You've committed over a hundred murders."
"Big and small."
"You're practically a professional reaper."
"That's enough to keep you in prison for a thousand years."
"But if you cooperate and become our informant, the FBI can reduce your sentence."
"Maybe just a few years."
"Maybe even no sentence at all."
Scarpa was shocked.
Had the FBI really become this shameless?
Finally Richie added another sentence.
"And if you become an informant—even if you kill someone again—the FBI can still help clear your name."
Scarpa had lived half his life.
But he had never heard a joke this funny before.
He burst out laughing.
"Sir… someone like me can actually be cleared by the law?"
"A thousand-year sentence turned into nothing?"
"And I can even kill under orders?"
"Hahaha!"
"As long as you cooperate," Richie replied calmly.
Scarpa sneered.
"So I actually get to be protected by the law now?"
"You FBI guys really love directing, don't you?"
"A reduced-sentence contract?"
"This is going to be the most profitable dark reality show ever."
Richie didn't react.
"No matter how many crimes you've committed, you're still just one person."
"But the crimes committed by the Colombo family in a single month exceed everything you've done in your lifetime."
Scarpa fell silent.
Richie leaned forward slightly.
"You decide."
"Do you want to die at Gambino's hands?"
"Or watch the Colombo family empire collapse with us—under FBI protection?"
"And maybe one day…"
"You'll even publish an autobiography."
"Then you can brag to your grandchildren about how their grandfather helped destroy a Mafia family."
Scarpa's expression kept changing.
After a long silence…
He let out a heavy sigh.
"I have one more question."
"Go ahead."
"Did Gambino tell you to do this?"
Scarpa stared directly into Richie's eyes.
Richie answered calmly.
"Gambino only wants your life."
"But in the eyes of the FBI…"
"Your life is now more valuable than Gambino's."
Richie added quietly.
"I'm not a moral purist."
"I don't mind shaking hands with murderers."
"But only if those bloody hands can help dismantle an even bigger guillotine."
"He confessed."
"He agreed to cooperate."
Richie stepped out of the room with the news.
The police officers outside—including Denham, who had just arrived—immediately smiled.
They got him.
Richie looked curious.
"I wasn't even sure earlier."
"I thought this guy would be a tough nut to crack."
"Why were you so confident he'd flip?"
David smiled and shook his head.
"The Dove of Peace told me something."
"Scarpa's mouth doesn't have a zipper."
"So he'll probably talk."
Richie was slightly stunned.
The Dove of Peace could even control this?
Suddenly, Richie remembered the time he had tried recruiting Frank Fitzsimmons.
That situation had also felt like everything was under the Dove of Peace's control.
Coming back to his senses, Richie smiled.
"Well then."
"I wish you success."
"With Scarpa as your informant, your next operations should go much more smoothly."
The Colombo family was currently fighting an internal civil war.
But the old Dove of Peace…
He clearly intended to take down the entire family at once.
Last time, it was Frank Fitzsimmons's drug empire that collapsed.
And this time?
Richie had a feeling.
After this storm passed…
Even if the Colombo family didn't completely collapse…
They would become the weakest Mafia family.
Either they would become vassals of another family.
Or they would simply wait to be devoured.
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