Marvel: The Super Player

"You did exactly the right thing, Locke!"

"As for you, Gwen..."

Inside the office, George listened to the critical leads brought forward by Locke and Gwen. He looked at Locke with an expression of genuine approval, offering his sincere praise.

His friction with Locke was entirely a personal matter; it had nothing to do with the bigger picture.

Turning his attention back to his daughter, who hadn't initially intended to let Locke report the situation to the precinct, George let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.

"Gwen, professional hitmen are a pack of cold-blooded animals. They possess no morality, and they recognize absolutely no binding promises."

Standing nearby, Locke subtly raised an eyebrow.

Those words...

Why did it feel like George was thoroughly insulting him to his face?

No, wait.

I'm not a hitman; I am an assassin.

A Peerless Assassin who operates on the tenet that *everything is permitted*!

I'm not part of that low-tier corporate muscle.

Locke quickly rationalized George's statement in his mind, ensuring he preserved a valid reason not to eliminate his future father-in-law later on.

Hearing her father's harsh assessment, Gwen looked slightly defensive, "The Peerless Assassin seems to honor his promises quite explicitly."

"He's exactly the same."

"..."

Just as a sliver of murderous intent began to stir within Locke's mind once more, George paused, moderating his tone slightly as he looked at Gwen.

"Of course, he manages to keep himself well-concealed for now. But Gwen, you need to understand that individuals within that sphere possess zero genuine emotion or respect for contracts. Entering an agreement with them is fundamentally identical to signing a contract with a demon."

If you possessed the sheer capability to overpower a demon, you could certainly choose to do so—much like the Ancient One, who routinely siphoned mystical energy from various dark dimensions without paying the price.

But if you lacked the concrete power to thrash a demon into submission, it was best to avoid making deals entirely. The most likely conclusion to that narrative would be the entity playing with your life until you expired.

Gwen opened her mouth to argue but ultimately remained silent.

Observing his daughter's expression, George knew she remained unconvinced. He stated plainly.

"I can guarantee that if we had proceeded according to your initial plan, the most likely outcome would be the execution of Kahn, and Locke—who just managed to escape with his life—would be drawn right back into a fatal trap. They are explicitly targeting Locke. If Locke fails to deliver whatever parameters they require, do you honestly believe they would allow him to return completely unscathed?"

Gwen looked over at Locke, a sudden wave of lingering dread flashing deep within her eyes.

That was entirely true.

No matter how capable Locke appeared, he was still just a seventeen-year-old student, while the opponent was a professional killer.

Gwen realized she had been operating under a strange illusion of absolute confidence.

And it was entirely Locke's fault.

He consistently carried himself with such complete fearlessness in her presence, inadvertently creating the distinct illusion that even if the heavens were to collapse, Locke could effortlessly shoulder the weight for her.

Consequently...

Gwen used the heel of her shoe to lightly tap Locke's ankle. The moment he turned around to look at her, she muttered.

"This is all your fault."

Locke looked entirely bewildered.

What did that even mean?

All my fault?

What exactly did I do wrong?

In the very next second, Gwen stuck out her tongue slightly. She took a step forward, looping her arm tightly around Locke's right bicep. Looking up at him with a warm smile, she murmured, "Thank you for keeping me so thoroughly protected."

Locke blinked in surprise, then offered a soft chuckle, "You are my future wife, after all."

Walking just ahead of them while holding Gwen's mobile device, George almost managed the spectacular feat of tripping over his own feet on level ground.

Forcefully suppressing the violent urge to turn around and glare, he marched straight into the NYPD Information Operations Command Center. He located Detective Kate Beckett, who was currently linked with the Department of Homeland Security, actively cross-referencing camera feeds from Long Island frame by frame.

In reality, even if the victims of this brazen ambush hadn't been Locke and Gwen, the ICA would have still kicked a massive hornets' nest.

To put it plainly, since the events of 9/11, the NYPD had never encountered criminals so incredibly arrogant that they chose to engage the police department's mobilization in a direct, armed confrontation.

Even the Peerless Assassin had never crossed that line.

When analyzed objectively, although the Peerless Assassin successfully evaded capture during every single operation, he had never intentionally taken the life of an NYPD officer. In the eyes of the public, the dynamic was always framed as the NYPD aggressively pursuing while the Peerless Assassin desperately fled.

To the upper echelon of the NYPD, the ultimate outcome wasn't the only variable that mattered. The process—specifically the narrative presented to the citizens of New York—was of paramount importance.

In the public eye, the Peerless Assassin simply possessed an extraordinary capability for evasion, nothing more.

It was a stark contrast to this group.

Not only did they refuse to retreat when cornered, but they actively rammed a police blockade, resulting in casualties among the officers stationed at Hampton Bays.

That was the definition of kicking a hornets' nest. The fact that the target of the assault was the daughter of a high-ranking NYPD inspector simply elevated the priority level to the absolute maximum, but the baseline offense remained unchanged.

Right then.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Just as Beckett instructed the technical specialist to route Gwen's incoming communications through the tracking terminal, the phone began to ring once more.

Gwen glanced at the display, "It's the same restricted number."

George looked at Locke, "Give me two minutes."

Locke nodded. George let out a sharp whistle, raising a hand to signal for absolute silence across the operations floor. Once the room fell completely still, Locke pressed the answer key.

A sharp hiss of static cut through the line.

Locke listened carefully, catching a distinct mechanical click right as the connection established—an audio signature indicating an automated recording apparatus had been activated. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

A recording device? Interesting.

Instantly, the technical personnel began tracing the active signal to pinpoint its precise coordinates.

Locke kept his tone completely neutral.

"Speak."

From the receiver, Kahn's agonized scream echoed clearly through the room.

Gwen gripped Locke's arm with sudden tension, her eyes filled with profound anxiety.

Out in Long Island, Agent 46 slowly withdrew the blade he had driven into a non-lethal section of Kahn's anatomy. His tone remained freezing cold as he kept his eyes fixed on the sweating, trembling teenager on the bed, "Your friend is screaming."

Locke's face remained entirely expressionless, "Can you hear my voice clearly over that line?"

"I can hear your breathing."

"Excellent." Locke let out a cold chuckle. "Then tell me, can you detect even a single tremor or fluctuation in my respiration that indicates I care about Kahn's agony?"

Agent 46 paused briefly.

What was happening here?

Could it be... the intelligence brief was incorrect?

Should he have taken the female target instead?

Thoughts raced rapidly through Agent 46's mind. He glanced at Kahn on the mattress, then checked the countdown timer on his wrist, which hadn't even reached the three-minute mark.

"My contract specifies you. I merely intend to—"

Locke, mentally calculating the two minutes required for the trace, cut him off cleanly, "Kill him if you must. But do you know exactly what I will do the moment you terminate his life?"

Agent 46 narrowed his eyes.

Locke's voice lowered into a menacing, quiet drawl, "I will liquidate every single asset in my possession to place an absolute bounty on your head, and on the heads of everyone within your organization. No matter how deeply your syndicate hides from the world, I guarantee there will always be entities willing to collect that tier of currency. So go ahead—try me."

With that, Locke cleanly severed the connection.

"Trace complete!"

"Damn it, he's still on Long Island!"

"The Hampton sector!"

"He hasn't cleared the island perimeter."

"Instruct the Coast Guard to reinforce the maritime blockade immediately!"

"Sever the three primary arterial routes connecting Long Island to the city."

"Deploy every available chopper to the Hampton sector. Even after nightfall, I want that sector illuminated like broad daylight!"

"Understood!"

"Moving now!"

The moment the signal coordinates were locked down, the entire Information Center shifted into high gear.

The Coast Guard assets, which had previously assumed the perpetrators had already utilized the initial chaos to slip past the perimeter and were preparing to recall, instantly executed a tight turn.

They surged back out into the surf, distributing their vessels along the Long Island coastline to ensure no watercraft could slip through their net undetected.

Up in the skies over New York, the helicopters conducting broad search patterns altered their headings simultaneously upon receiving the coordinates, roaring toward Long Island like a mobilized military armada.

Sirens wailed across the city.

Columns of NYPD cruisers from multiple precincts mobilized, leaving only the bare minimum behind to maintain standard sector patrols. Almost the entirety of the active fleet converged on the routes leading toward Long Island.

Locke lowered the device, looking toward George with a touch of curiosity, "I was under the impression the NYPD required a minimum of three minutes to successfully trace an encrypted line."

"Haha!"

George appeared to be in excellent spirits as he explained to Locke.

"We integrated a brand-new technological protocol just last month. Even the studios out in Hollywood haven't caught wind of it yet. The next time that absolute bastard of a Peerless Assassin tries to call in, heh... he won't be escaping our perimeter."

Locke gave a polite nod, "Impressive."

Reduced from three minutes down to two?

Good grief.

Fortunately, it seemed Gwen was entirely unaware of this upgrade as well. It was a massive stroke of luck that he discovered this detail now.

Otherwise...

Locke caught George in his peripheral vision. If he had operated without this specific intelligence, there was a very real possibility he might have inadvertently stumbled right into one of George's carefully laid technological traps.

While George managing to isolate his transmission point would only result in exposing a temporary extraction point for the Peerless Assassin—an inconvenience that was ultimately inconsequential—it was still best not to grant the NYPD such a massive tactical advantage.

Let it remain just out of reach.

They could look, but they could never grasp.

Locke felt that maintaining this specific distance was the most appropriate operational dynamic, both for George and for the Peerless Assassin.

George accepted a tactical ballistic vest handed over by Beckett.

He strapped it on securely.

Seeing this, Gwen stepped forward to speak.

George cut her off instantly, "You are not permitted to accompany the field teams."

Gwen blinked, "But Dad—"

"No!"

"Dad..."

George didn't look back as he turned and strode out of the command center. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have assigned a designated officer to monitor Gwen's movements, but Locke's calculated conduct throughout the ordeal had left him entirely reassured.

Locke looked at Gwen and said softly, "Cindy should be arriving at the precinct shortly. It's best if we remain here to support her."

Gwen frowned, "But..."

Locke reasoned gently, "Furthermore, if we accompany the tactical units, will George's priority be executing the rescue for Kahn, or ensuring my safety? Rest assured, their operational objective is me, not Kahn."

Gwen took a deep, stabilizing breath. After a brief silence, she nodded reluctantly, "I just hope Kahn makes it out safely."

Escaping completely unscathed was already an impossibility. The agonizing scream they heard over the line certainly hadn't been fabricated.

At this point, she could only hope the hitman would recognize the complete collapse of his leverage and choose to abandon Kahn to facilitate his own escape.

Seeing that Gwen had abandoned her intent to follow the assault teams, Locke let out a quiet sigh of relief.

In the very next second.

[Ding!]

[Targeting Tracker Card utilized successfully!]

[Designated Target: Agent 47!]

[Data Profile Incomplete. Automatic Integration Protocol initiated... (Single-use trial authorized. Continued feature utilization requires the expenditure of corresponding System Points.)]

[Integration Successful!]

[Operative Designation: Clone Asset 640509-040147!]

[Deploying Real-Time Vector Data!]

The system possessed this tier of advanced integration?

Locke raised an eyebrow. To be frank, this was his very first time utilizing an automated profile reconstruction feature.

However...

This single-use trial followed by a paid subscription model?

Locke couldn't help but feel that the system was actively eyeing the hard-earned, six-figure point balance he had spent so much time accumulating.