Chapter 283: A Gift
Late at night, on the roof of an old five-story apartment building.
Hunter had just climbed up one side of the wall after spending some time at it.
He quickly pulled a set of gear from his private space and changed into it.
Closest to his body, he wore a dragon-scale-style body-hugging vest. Over that, he put on a shirt, and then he added a Kevlar vest on top.
After doing all that, Hunter muttered in dissatisfaction.
"Perkins sure did not bother spending Continental coins to get me the intel from the Continental."
"She only told me about one key man under the drug lord Frank D'Amico."
"Now I have to handle him first."
Because Diana had given him very detailed information, Hunter had easily found Hit-Girl and her father yesterday.
After following the father and daughter for a while, he did not rush to see them.
Damon McQuaid, the man who went by the name Big Daddy, was a stubborn retired cop who did not trust people easily.
Hunter felt that before going to see him, it would be better to prepare a proper gift.
After all, Big Daddy's older daughter Telly was his lover now.
And Hunter had never even considered the idea of giving her up later and filing paperwork after the fact.
Out of a sense of compensation, he felt that helping his future father-in-law deal with the murderer of his wife, namely the drug lord Frank D'Amico, would be appropriate.
Bringing D'Amico's head to meet the old man seemed like the most fitting gift of all.
Hunter quickly made his way to the iron door leading to the fifth floor.
It was locked.
He spent a little time opening it.
Then, after checking carefully to make sure no one was around, he immediately headed downstairs with his weapon ready.
This old apartment building was not large, only five stories tall, and it was said to be one of the strongholds of one of Frank D'Amico's key men in New York.
After Hunter got the intel from Perkins, he did not choose to clear the building from the ground up.
According to her information, the man named Mons, one of D'Amico's key operatives, lived on the fifth floor.
Naturally, it would be easier to clear from the top down.
Hunter carried an MP5 submachine gun, fitted with a drum magazine capable of holding one hundred rounds.
It was not that he did not want to just bring an M249 machine gun and storm the place.
Back in Las Vegas, Hunter had not expected using the M249 to cause such a huge reaction.
Later, the Continental informed him that the FBI had gotten involved in the case.
Hunter had spent four Continental coins before Cole finally helped him settle the FBI problem.
After that, he had realized that in the United States, machine guns, anti-tank launchers, and man-portable air-defense systems were all too eye-catching.
So from now on, unless he encountered a really huge and difficult force to deal with, Hunter would not use weapons of that scale again.
That meant he would try to use grenades and explosives as little as possible too.
He had only just gone down the stairs a bit when he stopped.
From his higher position, he immediately noticed a black gunman sitting at the bottom of the staircase.
The suppressor on Hunter's MP5 did not completely eliminate the sound, but it did make the weapon much more discreet.
He crouched slightly, aimed quickly at the black gunman's head, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Pop.
The suppressed MP5 gave off a dull, muffled shot, strange but not loud.
From such a close distance, Hunter's bullet hit the man's head cleanly.
His eyes flew wide open, then his head tilted and his body toppled to one side.
Hunter padded quickly down the stairs on tiptoe.
He first checked the hallway and saw that no one was there.
Then he looked over the stairs and confirmed that no one was guarding the level below either.
Only then did Hunter straighten the dead black gunman's body and prop him against the wall.
He quickly reached the first apartment on the fifth floor.
When he tried the door, he found it was unlocked, so he pushed it open and slipped in in the dark.
The moment he stepped inside, Hunter was hit by a strange and sour stench.
It was a mixture of sweat, men's dirty feet, body odor, and strong alcohol.
Carefully avoiding the beer cans and bottles scattered all over the floor, he soon saw several men and women who had already passed out after their partying.
Some were on the sofa, others on mattresses or waterbeds on the floor.
The smell inside was so bad that Hunter did not want to stay there for even one second longer.
He raised the gun and pointed it at the men and women who had partied hard and were now asleep.
Pop. Pop.
After a series of muffled MP5 shots, the three couples in the room all went to meet their God in their sleep.
After checking quickly and confirming there was no one else in the room, Hunter left.
Only after stepping out did he take a deep breath.
Then he raised the gun again, opened the second door, found it was also unlocked, and went in.
Unlike the first room, this one only had four people.
A man and a woman were asleep on the living room sofa, both covered in tattoos.
Hunter did not hesitate.
He raised the gun, aimed at the pair, and fired.
After two shots, he went toward the bedroom on the other side.
There was still some noise coming from inside.
Cautiously approaching, he saw the door was not fully closed and sound was still coming through.
Hunter slowly pushed the door open a little wider with one hand.
As the gap widened, he saw a white woman covered in all kinds of chaotic tattoos and a muscular black man with explosive-looking muscles, both of them having a wild time inside.
One was bobbing his head, the other spewing filthy language nonstop.
It looked like they had both taken drugs earlier, and now neither of them was thinking clearly.
Hunter had no interest in watching other people's game.
He aimed at the black man's head and pulled the trigger.
Pop.
The filthy talk stopped instantly.
Hunter quickly turned the gun on the woman and gave her a shot too.
He shook his head.
He had no sympathy for gang members either.
He backed out and entered the third apartment.
Unexpectedly, no one lived there.
The room was packed full of weapons and ammunition.
Hunter scanned the place quickly and saw more than a hundred handguns, shotguns, and submachine guns, plus more than ten AK rifles and dozens of knives and other weapons.
There were also more than a dozen boxes of assorted ammunition, and even a crate of old-standard U.S. military grenades.
In this room there were also several travel suitcases and travel bags.
When Hunter opened them, he saw that two of the suitcases were filled with Franklin bills, conservatively worth at least six to seven million dollars.
The other travel bags were stuffed with colorful pills and some white powder.
Hunter had no interest in the drugs at all.
Without hesitation, he took all the weapons and ammunition, along with the two suitcases of cash.
After thinking about it, he also pulled out a remote bomb and placed it in the apartment.
Then he left that room and came to the door of the last apartment.
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