New York.
Nightfall.
Under the cover of darkness, shadows began to move, silently converging on the building where Viggo was holed up.
Every assassin in the city had heard of Viggo Tarasov. They knew exactly who he was.
But it didn't matter.
Thirteen million dollars was simply too much money.
This was the world of assassins.
And rule number one of the trade: If the money is right, anyone can be killed.
Before long, the periter of Viggo's building was swarming. Most of the assassins stood quietly in the buildings across the street, either waiting for Viggo to show his face or plotting a breach. A select few—the specialists—had positioned themselves in buildings further away, setting up sniper nests, hunting for an angle.
On the ground floor of Viggo's building, dozens of bodyguards, ard to the teeth, stared out at the eerie scene outside. Their nerves were wire-tight, ready for war.
Top Floor.
Viggo took two vicious drags from his cigarette. He could practically sll the bloodlust in the air. He was agitated beyond belief.
Just then, his assistant—who desperately wanted to be anywhere else right now—received a call.
He hung up and walked over to Viggo. "Boss, soone is willing to take care of Dexter inside the Continental."
Viggo let out a small breath of relief. "Good. Keep updated on the progress."
With that, Viggo exhaled a long plu of smoke. He stood up and, out of habit, walked toward the window to look at the view.
Crack!
A bullet scread through the air.
Fortunately, the glass was bulletproof. The round was deflected slightly, shattering the pane but missing Viggo by inches.
Viggo, having just brushed shoulders with death, nearly pissed himself. He didn't waste a millisecond, diving away from the window and pressing himself against the wall.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Viggo scread, a mix of terror and rage.
The assistant, who had hit the deck the mont the glass cracked, called out, "Boss, it's a sniper!"
"I know it's a fucking sniper!" Viggo roared. "Send soone to kill him! Now!"
Helpless, the assistant stayed prone on the floor, pulled out his walkie-talkie, and barked orders to the n below.
---
The Continental.
8:30 PM.
Perkins, a woman whose adherence to the hotel rules was "flexible" at best, changed into a seductive nightgown, threw a trench coat over it, and left her room. She headed straight for Dexter's door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Dexter was bored, watching TV. Hearing the sound, he smiled. He imdiately signaled the two Death Soldiers to hide, then went to the door.
He didn't know a single soul in this world.
Who would be looking for him inside the Continental?
If Winston or Charon wanted him, they would call first, not show up unannounced. And they'd already eaten dinner...
So, whoever was knocking was definitely bad news.
A look through the peephole confird his suspicion.
Well, well.
It was Perkins, the woman with a death wish. It made perfect sense.
Dexter smiled. Thinking it through, he figured Perkins was here for Viggo's bounty, just like in the movie. Since Viggo wanted his stolen items back, Perkins probably wouldn't shoot on sight.
In that case...
Let's play.
Dexter opened the door. He looked at Perkins, feigning ignorance. "Hello?"
Perkins gave him a sultry smile. "Mr. Ding, I've heard about the big moves you've made over the last two days. I have a business proposition I'd like to discuss. May I co in?"
Business?
Heh. I bet it's a multi-billion dollar business.
Dexter stepped aside imdiately, smiling. "Please, co in."
Seeing how easy he was, Perkins felt a surge of confidence. She slipped into the room. "You're very welcoming, Mr. Ding."
As she spoke, her eyes quickly swept the room.
Dexter noticed but didn't care. He let her look.
Perkins saw Dumb Nine sleeping on the carpet. Seeing no one else, she felt even more assured. She walked straight to the armchair, sat down, and crossed her legs, revealing a glimpse of what was under the coat.
Dexter sat in the chair opposite her. Adhering to the principle of "don't look a gift horse in the mouth," he looked. Openly.
Seeing this, Perkins laughed coldly in her mind. She deliberately unbuttoned the top two buttons of her coat. "Mr. Ding, do you like what you see?"
Dexter nodded with a grin. "Very much."
"Want to see more?" Perkins asked coyly.
Dexter nodded again. "Of course."
Perkins was efficient. In the blink of an eye, she undid the rest of the buttons. She stood up, sashaying toward Dexter. As she moved, she slid a garrote wire from her sleeve, ready to strike.
Dexter found it hilarious.
This stone-faced woman probably hadn't used this tactic often. Her acting was terrible.
Amateur.
Dexter instantly activated the Bruce Lee Character Card he had obtained from a chest in the Shaless world. He stood up and, without a second of hesitation, drove a kick straight into Perkins' stomach.
With the buff from the Bruce Lee card, the kick was lightning fast and devastatingly powerful.
Perkins tried to dodge, but couldn't. She was sent flying backward.
"You should take so acting classes when you have ti. Your seduction ga is trash!" Dexter laughed. Then he called out, "Soldiers, you're up. Guard the door."
At his command, the two Death Soldiers materialized from the shadows and positioned themselves in front of the door.
At the sa ti, Perkins scrambled to her feet. The smile was gone, replaced by pure ferocity.
She lunged.
Dexter slipped into a classic Bruce Lee stance, smiling as he waited.
Seconds later.
Whack!
Dexter landed a punch squarely on Perkins' cheek. It didn't just knock her back; it knocked a tooth loose.
The tooth flew through the air in a graceful arc before hitting the floor.
Perkins landed hard again. She was desperate now. Gritting her teeth, she reached for her gun to finish him, forgetting about the money. If she didn't kill him now, she was going to die here.
But Dexter wasn't about to give her that chance. He was already moving.
He closed the distance instantly. With a swift kick, he sent the gun flying from her hand. Then, he bent down, grabbed a handful of her hair, and smashed her head into the floor.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Perkins was dazed, her resistance broken.
Dexter looked down at her.
Chivalry? rcy for the fairer sex?
Non-existent.
Dexter showed no rcy. He hauled Perkins up by her hair and turned to the two Death Soldiers guarding the door with a smile.
"Here. A bonus for you boys. Take her to the bathroom. Take your ti. Have fun."
The soldiers responded in unison.
"Thank you, Boss."
Perkins' eyes widened in horror. She was terrified, desperate. She started to struggle.
"Don't struggle, or I'll break your arms and legs," Dexter punched her hard in the gut again, threatening her with a smile.
"Please... let go..." Perkins begged.
Dexter just laughed.
Not a chance.
Don't be naive.
---
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