Marvel: The Super Player

Is this meant to be a surprise for me?

Gwen wondered curiously in her heart. New Orleans actually sounded like a pretty nice place to visit.

But...

Regrettably, it was not.

Locke had not kept the truth from Gwen, but that did not mean he was going to bring her along this time. At the very least, it was out of the question for this trip.

This time, it was a witch story.

No matter how crazy the Peerless Assassin played or what kind of enemies he provoked, they were all ordinary people. Therefore, it was no big deal for Gwen to get involved.

After all, if George could handle it, why couldn't Gwen?

But New Orleans was different.

Locke was planning to head over there and shout, "Release that witch!" rather than having to explain to her, "Gwen, I am not a witch!"

"It is for Carrie."

Locke looked at Gwen with clear, honest eyes and said, "Carrie has a friend in New Orleans. Chester isn't comfortable letting Carrie go down there alone, so he wants me to head over and look after things."

Gwen's eyes widened. "Carrie?"

Locke nodded.

George, however, frowned. "Then why did you ask about the police department over there..."

Locke spread his hands, looking at George with a somewhat helpless expression. "George, have we run into any less trouble during our last few trips out of town? I am just being prepared for any contingency."

George opened his mouth, then ultimately shook his head. "Fine. I will text you the contact numbers later. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow."

Locke looked at Gwen and smiled warmly. "Right after Christmas, and I will probably be gone for about a week."

This way, his return would not interfere with the plans to go skiing in Canada.

After listening to Locke's explanation, Gwen did not press any further. After all, it was Locke's business, and most importantly, Gwen trusted Locke.

This year's Christmas was very ordinary.

They spent it inside Gwen's apartment without any roast turkey. Turkey tasted terribly dry anyway. In Helen's words, roasting a turkey meant they would be stuck eating turkey burgers for at least a month after Christmas.

On Christmas night.

Boom!

Boom!

Brilliant fireworks blossomed and erupted over Manhattan Island.

On the rooftop.

Locke and Gwen sat together on a swinging chair on the apartment building's rooftop.

The swinging chair swayed slowly back and forth.

Gwen wrapped her arms around one of Locke's arms, her scarf-wrapped head resting against his shoulder. She looked at Locke with a hint of fascination, noting how the variety in his clothing options seemed to be dwindling until he basically only wore suits.

"Aren't you cold?"

Locke shook his head. "A calm mind naturally generates heat."

What a joke. He possessed a Steel Body. Even though it was currently at the lowest rank, if he could not even control his own body temperature, how could it still be called a Steel Body?

Gwen sat up straight and lightly punched Locke. "That is called a calm mind naturally keeps you cool. You are messing up sayings again."

Gwen found it somewhat difficult to understand this particular mischievous quirk of Locke's.

Culture should be studied, not distorted and altered. If one casually changed and twisted it, it showed a lack of respect for the culture, and disrespecting a culture meant disrespecting history.

Looking at Gwen's serious expression, Locke opened his mouth. "Alright, my mistake."

Even with Gwen, it was quite difficult for him to explain the nuanced difference between playing around with a phrase and genuinely mocking it.

Besides, today was Christmas.

Gwen seemed to recall something. "That amulet, what exactly is it? Did you find out?"

Locke pulled out the flash-drive-shaped amulet from his pocket with his left hand—the one Lorraine Broughton was supposed to have mailed twelve years ago.

"If you mean this, no."

To be precise, he had not found the time to look into it over the last two days.

He had spent his time researching Anila Katz, the girl he and Carrie were heading to New Orleans to find tomorrow.

Anila Katz was indeed dead.

But Locke was not a psychic. Obviously, what Carrie wanted was the killer who took Anila Katz's life, not just a corpse. Locke himself was not particularly interested in Anila's death, but he was highly curious as to why it had to be Anila Katz.

Carrie wanted the killer of Anila Katz.

Locke wanted the underlying cause that led to Anila Katz's death.

Locke had done some checking over the past two days, and he finally understood why Carrie and Anila were such good friends.

For no other reason than this.

Anila was practically a carbon copy of Carrie White, just the New York version.

Furthermore, looking at the social media pages of several of Anila's classmates from ten days ago, there were text posts indicating that Anila Katz had started acting somewhat strange after awakening her witch powers.

Subsequently, following a home visit from a teacher, Anila Katz's mother booked airline tickets to New Orleans for the very first day of the school break.

Evidently.

This was a tragic story.

Gwen smiled slightly. Thinking about tomorrow's events, she looked at Locke.

"Do you need me to accompany you to New Orleans tomorrow?"

Locke looked at Gwen, who was leaning against his shoulder and speaking so casually, and smiled.

"Of course, no problem. Carrie is just worried that something might have happened to her friend, but it shouldn't be a big deal. Since we are heading down there anyway, we can stay and have fun in New Orleans for a few days. I will book the tickets right now."

As he spoke.

Locke pulled out his phone, preparing to place the order.

Gwen rolled her eyes and stopped Locke. "I was only joking. Grandpa and Grandma are coming over tomorrow, so I will be very busy. Go ahead by yourself."

Locke shrugged.

In truth, it would be fine if Gwen went along. Worst-case scenario, he could just have the Witch Locke and the Witch Syndra tag along as escorts.

Even if the entire situation collapsed into absolute chaos, Locke felt he possessed the means to suppress it completely.

The next day.

Locke arrived at the entrance of Carrie's house early in the morning.

Almost the exact moment Locke's vehicle pulled up, Carrie pushed open the front door, carrying her backpack. She opened the car door and stepped inside.

She looked incredibly impatient.

Seeing this, Locke shook his head but said nothing. He started the car, and with a roaring engine, the vehicle sped off toward JFK International Airport.

At eight o'clock in the morning.

Locke and Carrie caught the earliest flight from New York JFK to Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport.

"Good morning, Mr. Broughton."

"Good morning, Ms. Chester."

In the first-class cabin, the service quality of the flight attendants remained significantly higher than that of economy class. They brought over slippers and even served Bourbon.

Sitting nearby, Carrie watched in fascination as Locke smilingly accepted the Bourbon. Looking at the flight attendant's perfectly normal expression, she experimentally asked,

"Could I have a glass of wine, please?"

The answer was, naturally, affirmative.

Locke looked toward Carrie from the side. "Do you see anyone else in first class?"

Carrie looked around. It appeared that she and Locke were the only two passengers.

Locke shrugged. "From a certain perspective, I booked out the entire first-class cabin, which makes it equivalent to my private space. And inside a private space, drinking alcohol doesn't count as violating the regulation that prohibits individuals under twenty-one from drinking in public settings."

Carrie was stunned.

Of course.

While this method was an excellent one, it was quite expensive.

If Locke had not made a handsome sum of extra cash a while back, he probably would have hesitated a bit before pulling a stunt like this.

But...

The luxury was genuinely enjoyable.

By the time the plane touched down, Locke did not feel the slightest bit of fatigue or discomfort. However, he ran into a tiny bit of minor trouble when picking up his rental car.

"Locke Broughton?"

"Yes."

Locke looked at the patrol officer who had suddenly sprinted over from a short distance away just as he accepted the keys, and raised an eyebrow.

"Is there something I can help you with, Officer?"

Seeing Locke nod and admit his identity, the patrol officer stepped out of his vehicle, pulled out his equipment, and looked at Locke with a smile.

"You wouldn't mind taking a breathalyzer test, would you?"

Locke raised an eyebrow.

The test results, naturally, showed absolute zero alcohol content.

Seeing this, the patrol officer's expression remained perfectly calm. He packed up his gear and handed Locke's driver's license back.

"Have a wonderful day, sir."

Locke smiled. "You too, Officer."

They got into the car.

Ignition.

Only now did Carrie snap out of it in the passenger seat, blinking her eyes. "What was that just now..."

Locke let out a chuckle. "Just a little game between George and me."

Carrie: "..."

Over on the other side, after watching Locke drive away, the patrol officer pulled out his phone and dialed his direct superior. Then, his superior placed another call straight to George, who was currently at home cradling his youngest daughter.

"What?"

Listening to the call from his good friend in New Orleans, George looked thoroughly shocked. "That is impossible."

Gwen, who was over by the dining area, looked up and darted into the living room in a flash. She looked at George with a tense expression, silently demanding to know what had happened to Locke.

George glanced at his daughter's expression and gave an hum of affirmation into the phone. After hanging up, he stroked his chin. "This doesn't make sense."

Gwen was on the verge of tears. "Dad."

George looked up and took a sharp breath. "Did that wild boar know I would do this, so he didn't drink a single drop of alcohol on the plane?"

"Huh?"

"Damn it, I thought I could finally catch that wild boar slipping up."

"...Dad!"

Gwen realized what was happening, and her face instantly darkened. Looking at George, whose acting before her was extraordinarily dramatic, she stamped her foot and called for outside support, turning toward Helen.

"Mom, look at Dad."

As she spoke.

Gwen looked at George very seriously, crossing her arms. "Dad, Locke told you because he trusts you, but you treated Locke's trust as an opportunity to stab him in the back. That is very uncool."

I won't get angry.

The secondary account has already been created anyway.

George thought to himself as he looked down at the infant in his arms. Then he looked back up, smiling as he watched Gwen, who was angry, stamping her foot, and visibly shaped completely into Locke's form.

Over on the other side, Helen looked up and said, "Don't worry, Locke won't hold a grudge against your father. Since Locke doesn't even care, why are you complaining to your father on Locke's behalf?"

George nodded. "Look at your mother..."

He paused.

George realized what she said. "Wait, shouldn't that be the other way around? What do you mean Locke won't hold a grudge against me? Clearly, I am the one..."

Helen walked over, took Andy away from George's arms, gave George a glare, and said to Gwen.

"Back when your father and your grandfather played these kinds of games, I didn't stand nakedly on George's side like you are doing now. Men have their own little games, which is perfectly normal, as long as it doesn't go too far."

Gwen opened her mouth. She looked at Helen, whose face practically read, If you are this tense, you might as well go to City Hall and sign the marriage license the moment you turn eighteen after the New Year. Then she looked back at George.

The next second.

Gwen stamped her foot and turned around. "I'm going back to my room to read."

George: "..."

Helen: "..."

***

Pretty close to 100 stones. Here's the bonus

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