Marvel: The Super Player

"What's wrong?"

"Kahn has been kidnapped."

"???"

Locke raised an eyebrow. Why wasn't he the least bit surprised?

This was exactly why Locke preferred using alternative identities and generally disliked making too many friends.

Too much trouble!

Without a doubt.

Locke didn't even have the interest to ask Gwen; he already knew exactly who had taken Kahn.

Agent 47.

He was currently inside the NYPD headquarters. Unless Agent 47 had completely lost his mind, he wouldn't dare step foot in here.

But if they expected Locke to walk out to them?

Heh.

Locke turned on his heel to leave.

Gwen froze for a second, grabbed Locke, and then, with a soft thud, shut the door. She lowered her voice and looked at him, "What are you doing?"

Locke looked back at Gwen, "Telling George."

When someone gets kidnapped, you naturally notify the police. Locke had never harbored any desire to play the reckless hero.

"Are you crazy? He explicitly said that if we involve the NYPD, he will kill Kahn immediately."

"Even if we don't say anything, Kahn's chances of survival are already practically zero!"

This was a statistical certainty.

How many kidnapped hostages actually return entirely in one piece?

Perhaps in the old days, they did. Back then, kidnappers truly only operated for monetary gain, and a respected local mediator would even guarantee the transaction, serving as the bridge between the criminals and the family to facilitate the ransom and exchange.

But nowadays?

The moral baseline of the world was decaying. Just as an influx of reckless young amateurs was flooding the assassination market, the ethical floor of the kidnapping industry had long fallen below its initial listing price.

Furthermore.

Go ahead and kill him if you dare. Worst case scenario, I'll head down to Mephisto's realm in the future and ransom Kahn back. It really wasn't that big of a deal.

But to threaten him?

Absolutely impossible.

A certain Mr. Locke had never accepted any form of extortion. Once you open that door, what's to stop future copycats from trying the exact same tactic?

However...

Locke glanced at Gwen, "Where is Cindy? Wasn't she with Kahn?"

Gwen shook her head, "No. Just before we arrived, it seems Kahn heard some noise out on the road and ran out to investigate. Then, it seems, he was taken."

Locke: "..."

Fine.

Kahn had always been an overly curious bystander who loved a good spectacle.

Excellent.

Let him head down to hell to learn his lesson. Once I feel strong enough to match Mephisto, I'll go down and pull him back up. A little hardship in the underworld might actually do him some good.

Besides, hell isn't necessarily all misery.

Locke had heard that if a particularly handsome soul ended up in the underworld, the succubi would actively fight over them. Some of the good-looking ones could even end up with several succubi to themselves.

The succubus who had taken a liking to Chester before had only come up to the surface because she couldn't outcompete her kin down there.

Who could have foreseen that she would run into Chester? She had fully intended to move on to a fresh target after draining him dry, but instead, Chester ended up draining the succubus completely.

Amused by the thought, Locke shook his head and prepared to gently nudge Gwen away from the door so he could inform George.

But...

Gwen bit her lower lip, staring at him intently, "No, we cannot tell Dad."

Locke blinked, "Have you lost your intellect?"

Was she suddenly slipping into a cinematic trope? Or was this a classic case of panic clouding her judgment?

Gwen took a deep, stabilizing breath, looked at Locke, and said in a low voice, "You're right—even if we remain silent, Kahn's chances of survival are incredibly slim. But a slim chance is still a chance."

Locke's mind remained analytical and cold, "Fine, but you're merely comforting yourself with illusions."

Gwen kept her eyes locked on Locke, "Moreover, Kahn is our friend. And most importantly, he was only targeted because of us."

Locke nodded.

That was precisely why he intended to go down to hell and retrieve Kahn in the future.

If all else failed...

He could always drop a line to Blackheart, lower his posture a bit, offer a formal truce, and ask Blackheart to look after Kahn down there.

But obviously, he couldn't share any of that with Gwen.

Locke looked at her, "So what do you suggest?"

"He'll call back in five minutes."

"And then?"

"Figure out exactly what his objective is."

Gwen explained her reasoning, "I've heard you talk about Lorraine Broughton now. They must be after her, or rather, whatever it was that she possessed."

Locke frowned, "Lorraine Broughton is already dead. Did you forget what I just told you?"

Gwen nodded, "I know, but don't you find it strange?"

"Find what strange?"

"Why would this International Contract Agency choose this exact moment to strike?"

"Because of the KGB, and because of me."

"No." Gwen's expression turned solemn, her sharp intellect completely taking over as she shook her head, "That might be how they noticed you, but their sudden deployment against you cannot be based entirely on that. At the very least, the motive doesn't align."

Locke remained silent.

Right at that moment.

Gwen's phone began to wring once more.

Locke glanced at the device Gwen was holding out to him, meeting her gaze which practically implored him to figure out the motive first. He raised an eyebrow, took the phone, and keeping his eyes fixed on Gwen, pressed answer.

"Speak."

"Locke Broughton."

"State your purpose."

"If you want your friend to—"

"Kill him if you must!"

"..."

Before the voice on the other end could even finish the sentence, Locke delivered the line with absolute indifference and immediately terminated the call.

Gwen felt completely stunned.

"What are you doing?!"

"Nothing."

Locke shook his head, looking at Gwen as he explained, "You were using probability to calculate Kahn's chances of survival earlier, so let me apply psychology. Do you think the hitman is more likely to act predictably if I show that I care about Kahn, or if I act like I don't give a damn about him at all?"

Gwen frowned, "He'll kill Kahn, a hundred percent!"

If Kahn held absolutely no leverage over Locke, what purpose would there be in keeping him alive?

A smirk touched the corner of Locke's mouth, "Incorrect. It should be an even fifty-fifty split."

Gwen stared at him, her brows furrowing.

Locke continued, "Either the hitman eliminates Kahn out of frustration, or seeing that I don't care at all, he simply releases him. It's a coin toss. Don't forget, he isn't a mindless butcher; he is part of a highly organized syndicate. He operates with strict intent, and senseless slaughter yields absolutely no strategic benefit to his contract."

Now that it was established that the ICA shared deep, back-channel connections with London...

Agent 47 shouldn't be categorized merely as a hitman; he was fundamentally Operative 47. It was just that 47 perceived himself as an independent assassin, but any state-aligned intelligence network adhered to baseline operational protocols.

It was exactly like the three core principles of the ICA that Red had detailed to him once before.

'Do everything possible to avoid collateral civilian deaths outside of the target.'

When Locke showed concern for Kahn, Kahn ceased to be an unrelated civilian and instead became an active variable tethered to the target. But the moment Locke explicitly told him to go ahead and execute the hostage, Kahn shifted right back to being an external civilian.

Exactly as Locke reasoned.

"A fifty-fifty split is significantly higher than the three percent survival rate you were working with a moment ago."

"...You're gambling with his life."

"Weren't you doing the exact same thing just now?"

Meeting Locke's gaze, Gwen countered, "It's a gamble either way, but a moment ago, you actually had the opportunity to extract what he truly wants."

Locke shook his head.

"I don't need to."

"Why?"

"To put it simply—as you noted, they are either after Lorraine Broughton or whatever she left behind. But regardless of which one it is, I possess neither. If I had engaged in a prolonged negotiation with him, the moment he asked a question I couldn't provide an answer to, Kahn's survival rate would have instantly dropped to a definitive zero."

"..."

Locke offered Gwen the complex explanation.

He could only offer her the convoluted reasoning because the simple truth was impossible to state openly.

To put it simply, after today, the ICA would quickly come to understand exactly what kind of entity they had mistakenly provoked.

No matter how many operatives they deployed, could any of them withstand a single round from the Peerless Assassin?

He possessed mystical arts,

He commanded anomalous physiology, and who could possibly hope to withstand the sovereign might of a Progenitor-class Caine, the emperor of the vampire race?

The ICA assumed they were merely dealing with an ordinary teenager named Locke. In reality, they had provoked a three-in-one, multi-disciplinary composite entity.

Locke represented his baseline standard.

The witch represented his strategic intellect.

The Peerless Assassin represented his physical perfection.

The vampire Caine represented his transcendent elegance.

No matter what cards the ICA attempted to play against him, it would be entirely futile. If the ICA didn't end up thoroughly dismantled after this, Locke felt there would be absolutely no point in continuing this game.

If he couldn't even handle a minor mid-level boss after playing for this long, he might as well delete the file and quit.

Gwen listened to Locke's reasoning, her brows remaining knitted as she carefully analyzed his words.

After a long pause.

Gwen shook her head and looked back at Locke, "I never wanted to put you in danger, Locke. But Kahn is only in jeopardy because of us. Both your decision and mine are ultimately aimed at saving him."

Locke offered a warm smile, wrapping his arms around Gwen in a brief embrace, "I know, sweetheart. If that hitman had guaranteed that my presence would ensure Kahn's unconditional release, I would absolutely go. But you and I both know that even if he promised it, the actual probability of him honoring that deal is minuscule."

This was precisely why Locke found himself so deeply drawn to Gwen. A striking exterior could easily capture Locke's attention, but a brilliant, highly analytical soul was the real reason he could never quite comprehend how he could ever act like a scoundrel toward her.

Furthermore, attempting to negotiate a binding contract with a cold-blooded assassin or a black-ops operative?

What a ridiculous joke.

Gwen bit her lip, looked up at Locke, and nodded, "We should tell my dad."

Locke gave a quiet hum of agreement.

...

Meanwhile, back out on Long Island, within the Hampton sector.

Inside an unoccupied, vacant villa, Agent 46 sat with his phone in hand, looking as though the abrupt termination of the call by Locke had induced a massive information overflow, temporarily short-circuiting his processing parameters.

Kahn, whose hands and feet were bound securely with his mouth stuffed with a knitted ski mask Agent 46 had scrounged from a dresser drawer, lay entirely still on the mattress, staring blankly up at the ceiling plaster.

It appeared... he had completely abandoned any attempt at struggling.

There was no other reason for it.

The ski mask felt as though it hadn't been washed in a very long time.