Los Angeles. Inside Slattery's apartment.
Hunter had finally managed to fully satisfy the beautiful master locksmith, whom he had neglected for over a month while in the Caribbean.
After their intense reunion, Hunter found himself wide awake.
He got out of bed, pulled his Continental-issued laptop from his [Inventory], and connected to Slattery's Wi-Fi. He wanted to check the Hotel's network for any lucrative new contracts.
Just as the screen lit up...
Hunter's heart suddenly seized. A cold, inexplicable wave of dread washed over him.
His expression darkened. Ever since his five core physical attributes had surpassed those of a normal human by two or three times, his senses—hearing, smell, touch, sight, and taste—had been drastically enhanced.
Because of this, he had developed an acute, almost precognitive sense of danger.
Hunter didn't believe in superpowers or magic. He hadn't awakened any sort of psychic ability.
After studying this "spider-sense" for a while, he had concluded it was simply the rapid collision of his enhanced senses and his superhuman memory.
The human eye is like a camera. Every second, it captures hundreds of thousands of "frames" across a near 180-degree field of vision, taking in everything within sight.
However, a normal human brain can only process a fraction of that data. The vast majority of visual information is filtered out and ignored.
But Hunter's physical constitution, and by extension his neurological processing power, was constantly growing stronger. His brain could now subconsciously process and analyze a massive amount of the background data his eyes collected.
He believed his "danger sense" was simply his subconscious brain flagging a lethal anomaly from his peripheral vision and sending a blaring alarm to his conscious mind.
Trusting that instinct instantly, Hunter reacted.
Click.
He killed the apartment lights, plunging the room into darkness.
Moving silently, he crept toward the living room window. He remembered walking past it a few minutes ago.
The sliding glass door was wide open, and even the sheer curtains were drawn back, exposing the room to the night air.
He suspected his peripheral vision had caught something through that window—something his conscious mind hadn't fully registered.
Hunter pulled a small tactical mirror from his [Inventory].
Pressing his back flat against the wall beside the window, he slowly extended the mirror, angling it just enough to catch the reflection of the outside world.
He made minute adjustments, scanning the environment.
His face turned ice cold.
He focused the mirror on the roof of the adjacent apartment building across the street.
There, blending perfectly into the shadows of the rooftop utility units, lay a prone, camouflaged figure.
"A sniper!"
Shock gave way to immediate, blazing fury.
Someone was hunting him again. And worse, they had tracked him all the way to Slattery's apartment.
The audacity of it made his blood boil.
He memorized the sniper's exact position. Without hesitation, he pulled the customized tactical crossbow from his Inventory.
He notched a bolt in the dark, took a deep breath, and visualized the angle.
In a fraction of a second, Hunter spun out from behind the wall, perfectly framed in the open window.
His eyes locked onto the distant shadow. He pulled the trigger.
Thwip!
The bolt sliced through the night air.
The sniper on the opposite roof clearly hadn't expected Hunter to spot him, let alone step into the open and fire a projectile weapon faster than the sniper could pull his own trigger.
Before the assassin could react, the heavy crossbow bolt—guided by Hunter's [Shooting: Level Max] passive skill—crossed the hundred-meter gap with terrifying precision.
The specialized alloy broadhead punched cleanly through the sniper's skull, instantly neutralizing the threat.
Having eliminated the overwatch, Hunter immediately retreated into the bedroom where Slattery was sleeping.
He yanked the heavy blackout curtains shut. To be safe, he scooped the deeply sleeping Slattery out of bed, wrapped her tightly in the heavy duvet, and placed her gently on the floor near the load-bearing wall, out of the line of fire.
Despite killing the sniper, the klaxons in his head hadn't stopped ringing.
If they had a sniper on overwatch, they had an assault team moving in.
He reached down and delivered a precise, measured karate chop to the back of Slattery's neck.
He controlled his strength perfectly—just enough to induce a deep, temporary unconsciousness without causing any real harm. She would sleep through the incoming firefight.
With the civilian secured, Hunter opened his Inventory and pulled out the bespoke, bulletproof tactical suit he had commissioned through the Continental Hotel. He slipped it on quickly.
He materialized a suppressed pistol in his right hand and moved toward the apartment's front door.
Just as he neared the entryway, he froze.
His enhanced hearing picked up the faint, rhythmic scuff of boots against the hallway carpet outside the front door.
Simultaneously, he heard the faint squeak of nylon rope rubbing against the exterior brickwork near the open living room window.
Hunter melted back into the shadows near the window, using the wall for cover.
He angled his mirror again.
Three black tactical ropes were dangling outside the window. Operatives were rappelling down from the roof of Slattery's building, preparing to breach.
Hunter's eyes narrowed. He listened to the soft thud, thud, thud of boots planting against the exterior wall just above the window frame.
With a flick of his wrist, a flashbang grenade materialized in his left hand.
He kept his ears tuned to the window, but his eyes locked onto the front door.
BOOM!
A massive, concussive crash shook the apartment. The heavy front door was violently blown off its hinges by a battering ram, and several heavily armed tactical figures flooded into the entryway.
At that exact second, the operatives outside the window kicked off the wall, swinging inward to breach the glass.
Clack.
The moment the front door gave way, Hunter pulled the pin on the flashbang and lobbed it directly into the entryway, right into the middle of the breaching team.
Instantly, a second suppressed pistol materialized in his left hand.
Hunter tightly squeezed his eyes shut.
Relying entirely on his spatial memory and his maxed-out shooting skill, he pointed both pistols at the doorway and opened fire.
Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew!
The suppressed shots were sharp and rhythmic.
A split second later, the flashbang detonated, filling the apartment with a blinding, agonizing burst of pure white light, accompanied by screams of pain and disorientation from the doorway.
Hunter kept his eyes shut through the blast, his hands moving with robotic precision.
He opened his eyes the moment the flash faded. He rapidly adjusted his aim, firing precise double-taps.
Within seconds, the entire breach team that had stormed through the front door lay dead on the floor.
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