"Fine," Drex Valen said.
If the five assassins wanted to sponsor his entry into the Midnight Hotel, he had no objections.
But he had conditions.
First, they would solve his identity problem.
No legal docuntation was an inconvenience Drex had already grown tired of. If he intended to build power properly, he needed legitimacy, not constant improvisation.
The assassins agreed quickly.
Their compliance was fueled less by goodwill and more by the deeply rational desire to remain alive.
Through their referrals, Drex officially beca a registered assassin within the Midnight Hotel.
The organization's structure reminded him strongly of an old action film he'd once seen, sothing suspiciously similar to the Continental.
Elegant.
Global.
Violent.
And governed by rigid rules.
No killing inside hotel grounds.
Break that rule, and the offender would be hunted worldwide.
The system itself was impressive.
Contracts offered substantial payouts through two primary thods:
Direct paynt, via major global currencies such as U.S. dollars, British pounds, euros, or yuan, either in cash or anonymous accounts.
Or...
Skull Coins.
One Skull Coin equaled ten thousand dollars in value, though they could not be directly purchased with money.
Instead, Skull Coins functioned as internal currency.
Weapons procurent.
Forged identities.
Cross-border movent.
Intel gathering.
Cleanup operations.
Problem removal.
Essentially, the Midnight Hotel wasn't rely an assassin registry.
It was a shadow civilization.
That reach was what made it so powerful... and so feared.
Even Wilson Fisk had reportedly discovered Bullseye through this network before recruiting him as his personal weapon.
Drex found that extrely useful.
The five assassins sacrificed a painful amount of Skull Coins to establish Drex's legal identity, complete with credible docuntation.
Their finances, anwhile, were entirely confiscated.
Over ten million dollars total.
Disappointing, honestly.
For professional killers, they had been underachieving.
Now officially registered as a New York citizen, Drex simply needed to adapt his accent.
Which, for a Kryptonian mind, was laughably easy.
The Midnight Hotel assigned each assassin a specialized encrypted device, a "black phone," through which contracts were distributed.
The technology was years ahead of mainstream consur devices.
Secure.
Untraceable.
Anti-surveillance.
Drex approved.
Then he found his first real target.
Bounty: $4,000,000
Target: Lawrence Peter, leader of California's notorious Hellfire Gang.
Now that was worthwhile.
Hellfire was no small-ti criminal operation. Even in California, they ranked among the upper tier of organized cri syndicates.
As a result, nurous assassins had already shown interest, though most were still recruiting teams rather than attacking directly.
Drex had no such concerns.
"Four million..." he murmured.
He ard himself using weapons confiscated from the five assassins' personal arsenals. Their firearms were heavily modified for armor penetration and stopping power.
Primitive by Kryptonian standards.
But functional.
For now.
With his docuntation solved, Drex crossed state lines legally for the first ti.
Arica's internal borders could vary wildly in enforcent depending on jurisdiction, and avoiding bureaucratic complications was preferable.
Hellfire's headquarters was located inside a privately seized luxury villa community, an entire neighborhood effectively stolen through violence and intimidation.
Lawrence Peter himself was over fifty, though wealth and paranoia had preserved him well enough to resemble a hardened man in his forties.
He had slicked-back blond hair streaked with gray.
His most striking feature, however, was the savage triangular scar that tore through his left ear and cheek, a souvenir from the sniper round that had once nearly killed him.
The assassin responsible had later been turned into paste by Lawrence's own rifle.
Lawrence did not underestimate danger.
The mont his bounty appeared on Midnight Hotel networks, he panicked.
"Fuck."
He imdiately withdrew to his heavily fortified estate.
Ordinary assassins were one thing.
But Midnight Hotel killers?
Those could include monsters like Bullseye.
And four million dollars was enough incentive to attract extraordinary predators.
Security across the compound was intensified.
Ard guards.
Body armor.
Constant surveillance.
Drex surveyed the estate calmly through X-ray vision.
Twenty guards outside alone.
Fully equipped.
He almost felt insulted.
"Paranoid bastard."
For most people, breaching this compound would be a nightmare.
For Drex?
It was target practice.
He drew two pistols.
For now, he intended to conceal the full extent of his physical power.
Displaying exceptional marksmanship alone would not seem unusual in this world. Vigilantes like Frank Castle, Bullseye, and Hawkeye had already normalized absurd combat proficiency.
So...
He shot.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Four shots.
Four dead guards.
The final two rounds fired nearly simultaneously.
Each bullet obliterated a skull.
The custom firearms proved surprisingly effective, with excellent penetration and impressive stopping power.
The remaining guards panicked instantly.
Drex moved.
Fast enough to overwhelm.
Slow enough to appear rely human.
He breached the gate, vaulted barriers, and opened fire mid-motion.
More guards dropped before they fully understood what was happening.
By the ti he landed, every external sentry was dead.
Precision mattered.
He remained cautious about surveillance caras, ensuring his movents appeared extraordinary but not impossible.
Inside, the mansion erupted into chaos.
Drex reloaded.
Then entered.
What followed was thodical slaughter.
His reflexes were simply too overwhelming.
By the ti enemies recognized his presence, his gun was already against their skulls.
Though he avoided point-blank execution whenever possible.
Burn marks from muzzle flash were ssy.
Professionalism mattered.
"He's on the second floor!"
"First floor security is wiped out!"
"That's impossible! It's only been three minutes!"
Hellfire had clearly never imagined soone would assault them this openly.
Even Bullseye had operated with more subtlety.
Drex exhausted his ammunition, then simply used enemy weapons.
Every gun beca his gun.
Every bullet found a head.
Body armor proved irrelevant.
Then ca armored defenders wearing ballistic helts.
Drex almost laughed.
"California cri really is ambitious."
Even military-grade protective gear wasn't enough against his large-caliber firepower.
Helt or not...
Heads still exploded.
As Drex tore upward through the mansion, Lawrence's fear finally overwheld him.
"Blow him up!"
Grenades.
Lots of them.
Drex kicked open a door just as explosives flooded toward him.
His reaction was instantaneous.
He slamd the door shut again and retreated.
A chain of detonations erupted, with many explosives rebounding inward before detonating.
The result was catastrophic.
Screams.
Fire.
Shrapnel.
Friendly casualties.
By the ti Drex returned, the entrance was shattered.
Survivors were too concussed or broken to stand.
So Drex simply walked through the smoke and executed them one by one.
Lawrence's complexion turned deathly pale.
Three hundred and fifty ard n.
And still...
Nothing could stop this nightmare.
Unfortunately for him, X-ray vision made hiding pointless.
Drex found him quickly.
But Lawrence had one final defense.
A reinforced tal vault door, nearly four inches thick.
At last...
Sothing mildly interesting.
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