"Sorry about that."
"It is fine."
In Gwen's room, she watched Locke as he prepared to grab his bag and head out. She spread her hands and let out a weary sigh. "My dad is great in every way, but he is way too impulsive. He has such a strong sense of justice that no matter the case, if it lands in his hands, he charges in head-first. You have no idea how much my mom and I worry."
Gwen and Helen were hoping this incident would finally teach George a lesson.
Specifically, they wanted him to realize what happens to a cop who charges in without a bulletproof vest or backup when facing not the Sin Hunter, but a serial killer or a terrorist.
One look at the NYPD Memorial Wall would tell the story.
There were plenty of names on it.
This wasn't Helen and Gwen siding with the Sin Hunter; they were simply speaking from the reality of the situation.
Locke smiled, picking up his casual blazer from Gwen's coat rack and slipping it on. "It is because of officers like Mr. Stacy that we can enjoy a safe life, isn't it? Mr. Stacy is a man worthy of respect."
However...
Respect was one thing, but Locke felt it was highly unlikely that Gwen and Helen would succeed in changing George's personality through this.
Successful people come in all shapes and sizes, and while their personalities vary wildly, they all share one common trait.
Persistence.
Take Locke, for example.
Throughout his career, he had ensured the success of every hit. Every contract he took was completed; he never let a target run or missed a mark.
George was the same.
Every case handed to George ended with it being closed.
Think about it.
It would be nearly impossible for a veteran Captain who had been in New York for over a decade not to have a few cold cases on his desk.
But George was different. Every file was closed; no cold cases remained.
From that perspective, when George had stared at Locke earlier with a look that said, "I know we are the same type of person," he wasn't wrong.
He and George were indeed the same kind of man; they had simply chosen different paths.
"By the way."
Gwen watched him put on his jacket and handed him his backpack. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"Going to the DMV," Locke said.
His personalized license plates had finally arrived. Actually, they had been ready the day he bought the first car, but before he could make it to the municipal office, the vehicle was scrap metal.
Twice.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so there shouldn't be any major issues.
Locke had confidence.
Gwen's eyes lit up. "Perfect, let's go together."
Locke looked at her.
Gwen smiled. "My driver's license is ready too. I was going to have my dad bring it home, but..."
George probably wouldn't have the time to go.
Locke nodded. "Alright. Give me a call tomorrow, and I will come pick you up."
As classmates, helping each other out was only right.
Besides.
Locke had already enjoyed two meals courtesy of Helen.
However...
Just as Locke was about to head out the door, George—who had probably only been lying down for a short while—came walking down the stairs. He looked at Locke. "Are you heading back?"
'I'd love to stay the night, but would you allow it?' Locke Thought inwardly.
Locke nodded. "Yes, Mr. Stacy. Are you...?"
George pulled on his coat. "A report came in from the precinct. Just so happens I can use a ride. I have had a bit to drink, you don't mind, do you?"
Locke shrugged. "Of course not."
He said goodnight to Gwen and Helen and stepped out with George.
The silver Audi R8 maintained a steady sixty miles per hour, refusing a single speeding ticket.
As Locke drove, George seemed to be on the phone with someone from the precinct.
Had Fox's identity been discovered?
That was fast.
Shouldn't the textile mill be busy scrubbing their tracks right now, desperate to keep eyes away from them?
Locke wondered.
"Locke."
George hung up the phone and stared at the scenery outside the window. "Do you like playing with guns?"
Locke glanced at George. "Of course I do. Firearms... most men like them."
George nodded. "Ever used one?"
"Hunting, back in Texas," Locke replied.
George smiled. "Next weekend, why don't we go to the firing range for some fun?"
Locke looked at George. "Really? That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Stacy."
The conversation trailed off.
They arrived at the NYPD precinct.
"It is a date then."
George got out of the car, leaning back in before closing the door. "Just you and me. Don't tell Gwen or Helen. This is a pact between men."
Locke nodded. "I will keep my word."
A moment later.
Locke pulled back onto the road.
Had George discovered something?
Locke lifted his right hand and examined it. His skin was smooth—perfectly consistent with a sixteen-year-old boy, not at all like the calloused hand of someone who had mastered the Curve Bullet.
His shooting skills were granted through point allocation.
A true sharpshooter needs to be fed countless rounds of ammunition.
But Locke didn't need that...
Deep Blue...
Pah!
Just upgrade it, and it is done.
Trying to judge Locke's profession based on his physical features was an exercise in futility.
So why did George invite him to the range?
Locke thought of a possibility, then couldn't help but smile and shake his head.
The next day.
Once Locke got the call from Gwen, he drove her to the New York DMV.
A short while later.
While Gwen received her driver's license, Locke obtained his personalized plates from the clerk.
Locke grabbed his tools and crouched in front of his car, securing the plates to the hard-won Audi R8.
The plate number.
*LKNB!*
Gwen stared at it for a long time, trying to decipher it. "Is that an abbreviation for something?"
Locke nodded. "Of course."
Gwen blinked, quickly flipping through her vocabulary in an attempt to figure out what those four letters stood for.
But...
She came up empty.
Locke saw her expression and chuckled.
*LKNB!*
*Locke Liu Bi!* (Locke is Awesome!)
(T/N:- Ik it's ass but that's what it really means in translation. I suck at making names and etc so i Can't make it sound any better.)
Straight to the point and clear as day.
Gwen thought about it for a bit longer before letting the thought go. She congratulated Locke. "Congrats! Finally got the plates on. This one shouldn't turn into scrap metal, right? After all, you have made it past the twenty-four-hour mark."
The first car: less than ten hours, body from the sky, instant scrap.
The second car: probably less than eight hours, blown up in a hail of bullets, instant scrap.
This was the third car.
And it had finally survived past twenty-four hours.
Locke checked his watch and let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah. It hasn't been easy, but it finally survived the golden twenty-four hours."
Gwen stifled a laugh. "Then you better cherish it."
Locke nodded. "I will."
...
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666