"Hit the jackpot!"
Hunter knew perfectly well that the "over $40 million" figure he estimated from Steve's safes wasn't entirely liquid.
The reason was simple: Steve's real estate and property deeds.
Even with the deeds in hand, Hunter couldn't legally claim those properties.
After the explosions at his villa, Steve had fled but was immediately put on the LAPD's wanted list.
Later, Hunter assassinated him with the crossbow.
But Steve was already a fugitive by then.
His assets, especially real estate, had likely been frozen or flagged by the authorities.
The deeds Hunter found were effectively worthless paper.
But even so, he didn't feel a pinch of regret.
Because even after deducting the real estate...
The gold bars and other valuables in the two safes were still worth over $36-37 million.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that Hunter had seized the vast majority of Steve's accumulated wealth.
Just the cash in the safes amounted to over $1.7 million.
Add to that the $600,000 from Dom for the Boston delivery...
Even if Hunter didn't sell the 200+ gold bars immediately, he had more than enough cash on hand to power-level his skills.
Naturally, his mood soared.
Hunter quickly emptied the second safe, storing everything into his Personal Inventory.
Then, he stored the empty Worthington 1000 safe as well.
Although he had guessed beforehand that the safes might contain over $20 million in gold...
Actually stealing them, opening them, and seeing the massive payout with his own eyes made him delirious with excitement.
$36 million in gold. Luxury watches. Diamonds. Bearer bonds.
A single risky adventure had turned the penniless Hunter into a tycoon overnight.
This success stirred ambitious thoughts in his mind.
"Looks like I need to pay more attention to the news in this world."
"Since it's confirmed that Fast & Furious, The Italian Job, Léon: The Professional, and The Equalizerall coexist here..."
"There must be even more movie plots integrated into this reality."
"And hidden within them... more treasures and fortunes waiting for me to find."
Thinking of this, his heart pounded violently against his ribs.
He didn't stay in the warehouse long. He locked it up again and slipped away quietly.
Hunter didn't return to the Moscow Nights hotel immediately. Instead, he wandered around Boston.
He visited auto parts stores to restock supplies.
Then, taking advantage of his gun license, he visited a local firearms superstore.
He spent over $30,000 there.
He bought a brand-new Remington M870 shotgun, along with three extended magazine tubes (increasing capacity to 7 rounds) and over 200 shotgun shells. The total cost was just over $1,700.
He also purchased an Armalite AR-15 semi-automatic rifle. This was the best-selling rifle in America.
The base model cost less than $1,000.
But Hunter didn't buy the base model. He went for the top-tier configuration: 25-round magazines, a suppressor (if legal/available), a solid wood stock, custom grips, and a high-end infrared scope.
According to the enthusiastic shop owner, this rifle possessed accuracy and stability rivaling the M1A at 200 yards (183 meters).
It maintained high precision even at 600 yards (549 meters).
In the hands of an expert, it could accurately hit targets at 800 yards (732 meters).
Lacking the heavy recoil of traditional battle rifles, it was an excellent sporting and hunting weapon.
If he could, Hunter would have preferred a professional military or police sniper rifle.
But in legitimate US gun stores, purchasing such weapons required submitting applications and waiting for federal background checks and approval.
That process took at least half a month.
Hunter couldn't wait that long in Boston.
He knew he could probably find military-grade sniper rifles in black market shops without the paperwork...
But as a stranger in Boston, he didn't have the connections to find those channels quickly.
He decided to shelf that idea until he returned to LA, where he could use his contacts to buy heavier firepower.
Since money was no longer an issue, Hunter happily dropped over $20,000 on the fully kitted-out 7.62mm Armalite AR-15.
He also bought several boxes of ammo and replenished his stock of bolts for the Tactical Crossbow.
Loaded up, he left the gun store and continued to wander the city.
Time passed slowly.
In the afternoon, Hunter returned to Moscow Nights.
He went to the front desk, checked out early, and left the hotel for good.
Once he was a safe distance away, he followed a route he had scouted earlier to a secluded spot by the sea.
He pulled his vintage motorcycle from his Inventory.
Practiced hands swapped the license plate for a fake one. Then, he repainted the bike's livery again.
After ensuring the area was clear, he began applying makeup to disguise his face.
The sun dipped lower in the sky.
By 5:00 PM...
Hunter looked in the mirror. With exaggerated, rebellious makeup and a wig of messy, multicolored hair, it was almost impossible to tell his original race, let alone his identity. Satisfied, he stored the mirror away.
"Next step: pick up Teri."
He wasn't sure if she would show up.
After seeing him at Moscow Nights last night, Teri likely viewed him as just another shameless john who only wanted her body.
But regardless, Hunter decided to keep his promise.
He planned to go to the family diner where he met her yesterday.
If he found her, he would take her away—by force if necessary.
Today, Hunter was taking Teri out of Boston.
With a roar of the engine, looking like a washed-up hippie, he sped off into the sunset.
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