A white Chevrolet drove in front.
A silver Audi R8 followed behind.
George, behind the wheel of the Chevy, gripped the steering wheel tightly, his face devoid of any unnecessary expression. He stared dead ahead at the road, his complexion grave.
'It's all over,' he thought gloomily.
From the passenger seat, Helen glanced at George. "Dear, haven't we already tacitly accepted this situation?"
George kept his face stiff. "That was you, not me."
"And yet you acted as Locke's guarantor. Otherwise, how would his gun permit have been approved?"
"I regret it now."
"..."
Shit!
George had originally thought that since a wild boar had set its sights on his cabbage, and since the boar's coat and size seemed decent, he might as well try to domesticate it. Maybe he could turn the wild boar into a house pig.
The result?
The wild boar had no intention of being domesticated. Instead, it had completely ignored him—the gardener—and, right in front of his face, uprooted the cabbage he'd spent sixteen years tending. Then, with a triumphant squeal, it had knocked him aside to break out of the garden gate with the cabbage in tow.
Fuck!
Why did I help him get a gun permit? I was just looking for trouble! As a Chief Inspector, even if something happened, I'd be the one investigating myself.
Thinking about the established fact that his daughter had been abducted by this boar, George felt his entire world crumbling. As a daughter-slave, he was a man who could discard both his bottom line and his principles for her.
Helen heard George's grumbling and shook her head helplessly. However, for safety's sake, she added, "Let's push back the hunting trip with your old army buddy. Let's wait until their summer break and go together."
George looked at her. "With little George and the boys too?"
Helen shook her head. "No. We'll drop them off at my mother's. Let her watch them for a few days."
George: "..."
Great. It wasn't just his cabbage that had been uprooted; the mistress of the house had been compromised by the wild boar too. She was willing to abandon her three sons for an outsider? George felt a cold, desolate wind blowing through his soul.
...
In the Audi R8 behind them:
Gwen was equally speechless at the person driving. Locke had one hand on the steering wheel, while the other was occupied with his brand-new gun permit—complete with his photo.
George had mentioned getting him a permit before. Locke thought he was just talking, but George had actually followed through.
Nice!
Gwen looked at him curiously. "It's just a permit. You and Dad have been to the shooting range so many times; is it really that special?"
Shooting ranges in the US weren't like those in some countries where every shot was strictly regulated. These were outdoor ranges where you could choose the range's weapons or bring your own—everything from handguns to flamethrowers.
Locke shook his head, then nodded.
A permit wasn't rare in itself. As long as you were of age and had no criminal record, you could apply and usually get approved to buy weapons. But Locke was strictly underaged. To him, this was very special.
And! To anyone else, a permit was just a legal document. To Locke, it was something else entirely. Simply put, it was a License to Kill.
If Locke had possessed this permit when Megan Walsh broke into his apartment, the Peerless Assassin wouldn't have been the one to end her. Locke would have handled it himself without worrying about the legal fallout. The Castle Doctrine and Stand Your Ground laws would have shielded him.
But back then, he had no permit. If he had opened fire, SHIELD could have used the illegal possession of a firearm as a legitimate excuse to ruin him. To avoid leaving that loophole, the Peerless Assassin had dealt with it.
Now? With the permit, he could do many things himself, further decoupling his identity from that of the Peerless Assassin. As for why his marksmanship was so good? He was a Texan, and George was the perfect witness to his "rapid progress" at the range. As long as his bullets didn't blatantly curve around corners, there would be no problem.
"By the way."
"Yeah?"
Locke looked at Gwen, his eyes bright. "Gwen, should I buy a Beretta or a Glock?"
Gwen froze for a second, then gave him a giant, beautiful eye-roll.
...
At the apartment:
Dinner was lavish. Afterward, Locke and George retreated to the living room sofa to watch a new episode of a hunting show on TV. George took a sip of his whiskey and glanced at Locke.
Locke remained focused on the screen. 'Forget it' he thought. 'For the sake of the gun permit, I'll let George have this round.'
Gwen was helping Helen clear the dishes. As Helen stacked the plates into the dishwasher, she said, "Now that he's won the Grand Slam, the Student Council election should be a lock, right?"
Gwen had mentioned Locke's ambition to her parents. Helen thought it was a good sign. She had previously worried that because Locke was so wealthy, he might lack drive. Before this, he had always seemed content to just follow Gwen around.
Helen hadn't minded—at least it meant he wanted to spend time with her daughter—but they were only seventeen. What about the future? Even if Locke had a family trust fund and annual dividends, she felt a man needed a career of his own. She hadn't said anything before because it wasn't her place. Now, she was glad to see him showing initiative.
However...
Helen looked at Gwen's expression, then glanced at the living room. She pulled the glass door of the kitchen shut. "Didn't you say the championship would pretty much settle it?"
Gwen shook her head. "Sam Malik dropped out. Now it's just Locke and Nina Bell."
Helen frowned. "Did Malik make a deal with Locke's opponent?"
Elections were business. I drop out to support you—it was normal.
Gwen let out a wry laugh. "If that were the case, the result wouldn't change. But Sam Malik threw his support to Locke, and Locke accepted."
Helen was confused. "Malik was recruited by Locke? Isn't that a good thing?"
"Locke said the same thing," Gwen replied.
Helen finished loading the dishwasher, turned it on, and washed her hands. "Isn't it? I heard you say Malik's support rating was high. If he's supporting Locke, there should be no suspense."
Gwen's mouth twitched. "Someone leaked that Sam Malik is a racist."
Helen paused, dried her hands, and looked at Gwen.
Gwen shrugged. "And Nina Bell's well, you know. The worst part is, Locke lives in the Star Tower!"
Helen's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She frowned. "That is a bit troublesome. But what did Locke say?"
Gwen threw her hands up. "You know Locke. He's always confident. I want to say it's 'blind confidence,' but so far, I haven't seen him fail once. I can only call it a 'mysterious confidence.'"
The Poseidon disaster should have been the moment that proved Locke was overconfident. But unfortunately, Locke had single-handedly saved them all, proving that what Gwen thought was "blind" was actually justified. It left Gwen feeling quite helpless.
Hearing this, Helen's brow relaxed. She smiled. "Then what are you worried about?"
"Mom, this is a racial issue!" Gwen looked up. "If it goes south, even if he doesn't win, he could end up in a lot of trouble."
Helen didn't see it that way.
"What about the FBI?"
"Uh..."
"What about Homeland Security?"
"Well..."
"What about the Wrath of Poseidon?"
"..." Wrath of Poseidon was the nickname people had given to the shipwreck at the start of the year. Superstitious folks online claimed the ship's name had offended the God of the Sea.
Helen smiled. "Homeland Security agents pretending to be the FBI couldn't get the better of Locke—they even had to pay him a fortune. The Wrath of Poseidon didn't make him back down either. This is just a school election. If Locke is confident, you should believe in him. After all, you're his girlfriend. And so far, his confidence has been based on facts, hasn't it? Besides, even if he loses, so what? Are you going to break up with him?"
Gwen snapped out of her thoughts. "Mom!"
Helen looked at her daughter with a teasing smile. "Before your boyfriend loses, you should believe in him and support him. If he loses... well, he loses. What's the worst that can happen?"
Gwen looked at Helen and nodded thoughtfully.
...
While the mother-daughter talk happened in the kitchen, a similar conversation was taking place on the sofa.
George, being on the front lines in New York, frowned when Locke mentioned Nina Bell. Once he heard about the issue, he understood instantly. "Oh, it's the Bell family."
Locke raised an eyebrow and looked at George. "You know them?"
***
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