What the hell?
Tomorrow morning's operation?
The speaker says it casually, but the listener takes it to heart!
Hearing Gwen's words, Locke couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
Running to the court at this hour?
If George wanted to apply for a search warrant, he could have done it during the day. Failing to do so during business hours and waiting until night was clearly intended to avoid prying eyes and maintain a level of secrecy.
So, the question was: who? Who was worthy of such treatment?
Locke certainly didn't fit the bill. After all, he was just a handsome, charming, and harmless sixteen-year-old boy. Besides, George wasn't going to find any contraband at his place.
Well...
Alcohol definitely didn't count. Going through all this mysterious trouble just to harass someone under twenty-one for drinking was impossible. Even if he were caught, the police would go after the guardian—except Locke was his own guardian.
Therefore...
There was only one person or organization qualified for this level of attention.
The Textile Mill!
...Son of a bitch!
Locke's brow twitched. If the NYPD headed over there tomorrow morning, wouldn't they run straight into him?
Most importantly...
Good grief! Cross had to pay with his life for trying to steal my kill. George, why on earth are you so intent on jumping in to snatch it?
No.
Locke paused. George wasn't going there to steal a kill; he was going there to be a kill.
Locke was speechless.
While the Butcher from the start, or Fox and Cross last night, seemed like helpless rookies in front of Locke, one shouldn't think they were actually weak.
That was only because Locke was a cheater.
Paying players can rarely beat hackers, and players who don't even pay? How many rounds could they last against a cheater before being knocked out?
But was George—or the NYPD—playing with a cheat code?
Definitely not.
In fact, if the Fraternity members were "free-to-play" players, the NYPD in this game were "cloud" players—people who didn't even know the name of the game but were trying to call the shots from the sidelines.
The Fraternity was a joke to Locke.
But once the NYPD clashed with the Fraternity, the NYPD would be the joke.
George was going to die!
Locke looked up, momentarily at a loss for words. However, he could guess why George was moving on the textile mill.
Fox's identity had finally been traced.
Three or four dead bodies were linked to the mill. George had likely seen the footage of the red sports car leaving the facility when Fox took Wesley out.
And now?
Peerless was untraceable, but the textile mill—deeply connected to the deceased—was sitting right there in plain sight. Several dead marksmen were all linked to your mill, and you claim to be clean?
Locke could foresee that once George arrived tomorrow morning, whether the Fraternity surrendered or not was unknown, but George would definitely hit "GG."
The key was, while he didn't fear the NYPD, he hated it when a third party jumped into the game while he was working, shouting that they wanted to play too.
"Fuck!"
Locke muttered, "If I'd known, I should have just shot George yesterday and let him recover in a hospital bed. It would've saved him from getting in my way."
While shooting George yesterday might have caused some trouble down the line, it would have been a lot less than the massive headache brewing for tomorrow.
No. I have to find a way.
Locke's eyes flickered as he plotted.
He didn't care whether George lived or died—life and death are matters of fate. When Mephisto, the Prince of Darkness, comes to collect, Locke couldn't stop him even if he wanted to. At least, not right now. Locke knew of Mephisto, but Mephisto certainly didn't know him.
George could die, but not tomorrow.
After all, Locke and Gwen were friends, he'd eaten Helen's cooking twice, and George had even invited him to the range next weekend. Locke was a man of his word, and he expected others to be as well. No one was standing him up.
What was the solution?
The reason George wanted to raid the mill was for self-preservation. If he didn't give the city and the Mayor an answer, they would offer George up as the answer instead.
Just then.
Locke's gaze fell on a key sitting on his desk.
The key to the Audi R8 in the underground garage!
Locke raised an eyebrow.
No way!
Locke realized something and his face darkened.
He'd *just* put the plates on. The car had survived twenty-four hours, but it hadn't even made it to seventy-two. Every internet user knows the "Golden 72 Hours" for a rescue; the same should apply to a car.
Besides.
The insurance company had already paid out twice. You can't just keep shearing the same sheep until it's bald.
But if he wanted George to drop the textile mill and pivot his objective tomorrow, Peerless was the only one who could pull it off.
Furthermore...
Based on Peerless's persona—killing only the guilty—the only way to immediately attract and divert George's attention was through a direct operation on his end.
Locke looked at the time on his computer; it was past midnight.
The next second.
Locke's right hand blurred, retrieving the sunglasses from his inventory and putting them on.
It was getting late. He needed to prepare.
Otherwise...
The opportunity would be cold and gone.
...
6:00 AM.
As the first ray of the morning sun hit New York City, Captain George Stacy—who had been resting against a locker at NYPD headquarters—snapped his eyes open. "Move out!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Understood!"
"Gear up!"
"Notify ESU."
"On it, Boss."
At George's command, the officers in the breakroom stood up, pulling on body armor emblazoned with "NYPD."
The dressing speed was incredible.
Within a minute, amidst the metallic *clack-clack* of weapons being chambered, the officers, including George and Beckett, were ready to go.
Just as George pulled out the warrant to announce the target of the operation...
*Ring, ring, ring!*
The sharp trill of a phone shattered the tension.
George frowned, annoyed, but realized the ringing was coming from his own phone.
"Gwen, listen, I'm—"
George didn't even get to finish before Gwen's frantic voice cut him off.
"Dad! Locke just called! He said that car thief stole his car again, and Locke was spotted! He's kidnapped Locke!"
"..."
***
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