『Ding!』
『Mission Accomplished: "Assassin Junior"』
『Mission Rewards: "Achievement Points 500", "Potential Points 500", "Treasure Refresh Coupon 1"』
『Spectacle Bonus: "100x!"』
『Settling Final Tally...』
『Ding!』
『Final Mission Rewards: "Achievement Points 50,000", "Potential Points 50,000", "Treasure Refresh Coupon 1"』
『Current Status:』
『Name: Locke Broughton (Sole Player)』
『Achievement Points: 65,000 (Can be used in the Achievement Store to purchase items)』
『Potential Points: 58,000 (Can be used to upgrade owned skills)』
『Supreme Talent: Outstanding (Gold Quality, Level 1): My energy is limitless; your energy is even beyond your imagination!』
『Extraordinary Talent: Resilience (Level 2): Your body can withstand significantly more damage, and you gain faster recovery after leaving combat (Upgrading to Level 3 requires 40,000 Potential Points).』
『Extraordinary Skill: Curve bullet(Advanced): Your marksmanship has become profound, mysterious, and inconceivable! (Upgrading from Blue Quality to Red Quality requires 20,000 Potential Points)』
『Extraordinary Skill: Eagle Training (Beginner): You can finally call yourself an Assassin, rather than a mere hitman who only knows how to kill with firearms.』
『Extraordinary Skill: Hiding Art (Beginner): Though not true invisibility, at higher levels, you can perform a real-life version of "3-Iron" if you wish.』
『Talents: None』
『Skills: Driving...』
『Current Mission: "Chemistry Competition"』
...
Evening time.
Locke leaned back into his sofa, sipping from a glass of Thunderbolt Bourbon. He watched the night news reports as the multiplier bonus climbed steadily. The moment the coefficient hit 100x, he selected to submit the mission.
Instantly, he hit the jackpot! A massive windfall.
Locke drained the glass in one go. Life was sweet.
As for the television news—where FBI Special Agent in Charge Colin and NYPD Captain George Stacy held a joint press conference to label the Peerless Assassin as a terrorist? Locke felt zero psychological pressure. Every action has a price, just as people die when they are killed. Locke's principle was simple: I don't poke you, you don't poke me. Otherwise, don't blame me for being impolite.
Nick Fury? If hitting him meant touching the "canon plot," then so be it. If the mission had included an objective for wiping out S.H.I.E.L.D., Locke would have marched straight to their front door. Swapping S.H.I.E.L.D. for a million points would have been a fantastic deal.
"Just..." Locke smacked his lips and stood up, heading toward the bar. He felt a trace of regret. "I still didn't get to see that Baldy get charred with my own eyes."
He had only seen the flash of the explosion and the flaming wreckage plummeting from the sky. He had used the Stark-made Bolt surface-to-air missile to blow that plane out of the sky, but the landing site wasn't ideal—it fell into the water. Jersey City and New York police were arriving quickly, so Locke had to extract immediately.
He had expected the news to livestream the salvage operation. But while they salvaged the wreck, they didn't broadcast the removal of any bodies from the debris.
What? Nick Fury isn't dead?
Heh. That was a Stark Industries "Bolt" missile, not some knock-off garbage from Hammer Industries. Locke had actually considered buying a Hammer imitation of the Bolt. Stark's missiles were a hundred thousand dollars a pop, while Hammer's were fifty thousand, buy-ten-get-one-free. But Locke figured Fury was a man of status. Out of the kindness of his heart, he splurged on the genuine Stark article.
If Nick Fury was on that plane and it took a direct hit from a Bolt, and he somehow survived? Locke would take his own surname and write it backward for the rest of his life. At most, Fury might have lasted a few seconds longer than the others. What else? Even if Captain America had been on that plane, he'd be dead meat after that hit!
...Wait.
Locke blinked. Speaking of Captain America, Locke suddenly remembered something. While his clone was attending school for him, did he promise Gwen something?
'Oh, holy shit!' Locke's eyes narrowed.
...
The next day! Brooklyn! The former residence of Steve Rogers!
"My god."
Locke stood in front of an old-fashioned but remarkably sturdy house. He stared at the sign posted in the front yard, seriously wondering if the person advising the New York City Council was from the East.
Gwen noticed his shocked expression and asked curiously, "What are you thinking about?"
Locke snapped out of it and looked at her. "I'm wondering if this yard is big enough to race horses in."
Gwen was taken aback, then rolled her eyes beautifully. "Are you missing Texas that much?"
Locke pondered for a moment. "I wouldn't call it 'missing' it, but it is my hometown after all."
Gwen smiled gently. "It's normal to want to go back. You just arrived in New York and immediately faced such a traumatic event. It's natural to want to escape."
Locke blinked. "Escape?"
Gwen nodded earnestly. "It's okay. It's a very normal reaction."
In her mind, it made perfect sense. Anyone who arrived in a new city only to be framed by law enforcement and subjected to "interrogation" would want to flee back to the familiar embrace of their home. Lately, Gwen felt Locke had been acting off. Although he still looked forward to school exams as much as ever, he seemed perpetually distracted.
Especially yesterday. That feeling was even stronger. Gwen remembered what her mother, Helen, had said, and she had spent the last few days reading up on psychology to help Locke move past the trauma.
Taking him to visit Captain America's childhood home and the museum during the last weekend of November was part of her plan to help him heal.
Gwen bit her lip and said, "Locke, you have to remember how many times Cap tried to enlist. People say he became the Captain because of the Super Soldier Serum, but I think it was his brave and resilient heart that truly made him who he was."
Locke opened his mouth but found no words. He agreed with the sentiment, but why was Gwen suddenly telling him this? Question marks floated over his head.
Then, his gaze drifted down to his hand, which was being held by Gwen's soft, warm fingers.
"Locke."
"Yeah?"
"Let me take you to see a therapist."
"Sure... wait, what?!"
Locke did a double-take. "A therapist? Why?"
'Why on earth would I see a therapist? I'm not the one with a problem. It was that Baldy who thought I was a sociopath. I like cats, dogs, rabbits, even pythons—by any metric, I'm perfectly sane.'
(T/N:- *Insert Simon Ghost Riley gif*)
Gwen sighed. "Resistance is a classic symptom. We all feel very sorry for what happened to you."
Locke was lost. "Wait, what happened to me?"
Gwen looked at him with deep concern. "Everyone has good intentions, Locke. You don't need to be so defensive."
'Are we even having the same conversation?'
Locke raised an eyebrow, a realization finally hitting him. "You mean... being 'tortured' by those guys?"
Gwen gave him a look that said, 'Stop pretending.'
Locke's mouth twitched. This was a massive misunderstanding. He shook his head. "Believe me, Gwen, I'm great. In fact, if every encounter like that earned me over ten million dollars, I'd wish for it to happen every single day."
No joke. Locke had already decided: from now until next year, the Peerless Assassin was going into retirement. The reason he worked as an assassin was for the missions, but mostly for the money to make his life better. His primary focus for earning achievement and potential points remained squarely on the school campus.
Assassinating people could wait until after he graduated, but he couldn't come back to school and farm student missions once he was an adult. It was like those games where you rush out of the starting village only to realize you missed a few quests—once you've leveled up, you can never go back.
Locke didn't want that to happen. And now? With over ten million in clean cash on the surface, he could afford to pause the assassin work. The points earned from working overtime every night weren't nearly as fast as the points earned from writing a test paper or taking an exam.
Moving from a hundred dollars to ten thousand is hard. But moving from ten million to a hundred million? That was a lot easier. Locke figured he would find a top-tier Wall Street investor tomorrow, dump the money in, and as long as he wasn't too extravagant, he could basically retire early.
Besides, the heat was a bit high right now. Letting the Peerless Assassin fade for a while was wise. Or, he could eventually take a job in New Jersey to draw attention away from New York.
Gwen looked at Locke's familiar smile but still shook her head worriedly. "Money can't heal the scars in your soul. I haven't been through what you have, but I really want to understand you."
Locke's eye twitched. "Gwen, I'm really fine. Money can't solve every problem, but it solves ninety-nine percent of them."
Gwen blinked.
Locke smiled. "At least with this money, when we go to college, we can consider renting an apartment together off-campus instead of living in dorms, right?"
Gwen: "...We're still going to see a therapist when we get back from Maine next week."
Locke: "..."
(T/N:- Atta girl! drag this psychopath to therapy. Though i doubt it'll be of any help.)