Elena remembered the figure who had appeared during the most hopeless moment of her captivity, ripped apart the Collector’s steel cage with raw strength, and carried her safely out of Hotel Argento.
Whenever she thought about Orion Locke standing between her and that nightmare, an indescribable sense of security filled her chest.
Ironically, however, Elena’s encounter with the Collector had indirectly begun because she had wanted to find Orion in the first place.
After leaving Jay and the others, she and Jenny had traveled to Monroe hoping Elena’s uncle, who worked for the city government, might help locate the former Navy SEAL.
Jenny had then heard about a private social event being held in Monroe and insisted they attend before heading home.
Neither woman could have known that the gathering would become the center of one of the Collector’s elaborate massacres, leaving Jenny dead and Elena taken to Hotel Argento.
Jay had escaped the same fate only because he remained at the hospital with Rosen while his friend recovered from the heart attack triggered at the cannibals’ cabin.
“Dad, I want to invite Orion to dinner tonight.
Is that okay?” Elena asked, looking expectantly at her father.
Peters saw the expression on his daughter’s face and suppressed whatever thoughts immediately came to mind before answering, “Of course, sweetheart.
He saved your life, so I should thank him personally anyway.” Orion had been paid for participating in the rescue, but that hardly changed the fact that he had brought Peters’s daughter home alive.
“Great!
I’ll go ask him now.” Elena brightened immediately and hurried from the hospital room, with two of her father’s bodyguards following close behind.
Peters walked toward the window, lit a cigar, and silently watched her enter the waiting SUV before finally turning his attention back toward Lucello.
“Lucello,” Peters asked without looking away from the departing vehicle, “what kind of man is Orion Locke?” Lucello didn’t answer immediately because his mind had already returned to Hotel Argento.
Everyone inside that building had been tense and constantly expecting death, yet Orion had remained unnaturally calm from the moment they entered until the moment he carried Elena back out.
Even the Collector’s traps had seemed less like mortal threats to him than inconveniences encountered during a walk through unfamiliar territory.
“He’s extremely calm,” Lucello finally answered, although the description felt inadequate even as he said it.
After another moment, he added, “And very powerful.
Far more powerful than his military record alone would suggest.” Peters took a slow drag from his cigar and considered those two qualities while wondering whether such a man would make a suitable boyfriend for his daughter.
Meanwhile, Orion had already received his $200,000 share of the Bison team’s commission and decided that his first purchase should be a reliable vehicle.
His old transportation arrangements were hardly suitable for someone his size, especially if he intended to take Hannibal anywhere in the future.
After comparing several large SUVs, he settled on a Chevrolet Suburban, whose spacious interior and cargo capacity were far more practical for his needs.
It was barely past six in the morning, several hours before the dealership normally opened, but Orion called the number posted near the entrance and told the owner he was prepared to pay in full immediately.
The sleepy man initially sounded irritated at being awakened, yet the promise of a cash-equivalent sale changed his attitude almost instantly, and he arrived shortly afterward.
Business had been slow enough that losing an early-morning customer willing to buy an expensive SUV outright would have been foolish.
Orion selected the Suburban he wanted, completed the paperwork, paid the taxes and fees, and charged roughly $70,000 for the vehicle before driving away.
Registration and the remaining local paperwork could be handled easily enough once he spoke with John.
By the time Orion returned to the farm, the morning sun had fully risen.
“Aba!
Aba!” Hannibal was driving a tractor across part of the property when he noticed the new SUV.
The enormous mutant immediately stopped what he was doing and hurried toward Orion with the enthusiasm of a dog seeing its owner return home.
Watching the eight-foot ogre approach reminded Orion of another problem he would eventually have to solve.
“Hannibal needs a legal identity.” The mutant had grown up isolated in the wilderness with almost no connection to normal society, meaning there was no Social Security record, state identification, birth certificate, or other documentation connecting him to an ordinary American life.
Orion couldn’t keep Hannibal hidden on the farm forever, but taking an eight-foot deformed man into populated areas without identification could create endless trouble if law enforcement ever became involved.
Creating a legitimate identity for someone who effectively didn’t exist in government records wasn’t something Orion could solve simply by throwing money at it, so he temporarily pushed the issue aside.
After showering, Orion entered the bedroom Hannibal had cleaned and stretched out across the bed.
With a thought, the familiar Black Book appeared within his consciousness and opened to his status page.
The information had changed slightly since the events at Hotel Argento.
Name: Orion Locke Age: 30 Life Level: Level 2 Physical Fitness: 2.00 (+) Constitution: 2.00 (+) Talent: Basic Self-Healing Servant: Hannibal — Ogre Skills: Combat Lv.4, Shooting Lv.3, Infiltration Lv.3, Mobility Lv.3, Espionage Lv.3 Normal Energy: 16 Points Special Energy: 1 Point The single point of Special Energy had come from killing the Collector.
Orion considered his options for several moments before directing the point into Constitution, and the familiar warm current immediately began spreading throughout his body.
His muscles relaxed while a comfortable sensation reached deep into his organs, bones, and nervous system, making his entire body feel increasingly light.
Orion viewed Constitution as the foundation supporting everything else, like the structure of a container determining how much pressure it could safely hold.
If Physical Fitness became too powerful while Constitution lagged behind, he might eventually possess strength his internal systems couldn’t properly support.
Constitution also appeared connected to lifespan, disease resistance, recovery, stamina, and general vitality, making it more valuable than simply increasing raw power.
There was another reason Orion prioritized it: the nightmare.
His Level 2 body already required far less sleep than before, but the recurring dream involving the dead little girl still invaded his mind whenever he rested.
If improving Constitution strengthened his nervous system and resistance to whatever was causing the phenomenon, even a small reduction in its influence would be worthwhile.
Roughly half an hour later, the enhancement finally settled.
Orion remained on the bed for several minutes enjoying the comfortable aftereffects before suddenly remembering something else he had brought home from Hotel Argento.
He reached toward the pile of dirty equipment beside the bed and removed the Collector’s mask.
The dark, textured full-head mask felt strangely soft and cool beneath his fingertips, its surface appearing almost organic despite the stitched openings and lacing that gave it the disturbing appearance Orion remembered from the killer.
Morning sunlight passed through the bedroom window and revealed faint patterns across the material that seemed almost scale-like when viewed from certain angles.
Whatever the mask truly was, Orion no longer believed it was an ordinary piece of clothing.
He gripped opposite sides and pulled.
The material stretched slightly beneath his Level 2 strength but refused to tear.
Orion increased the pressure until enough force was being applied to damage almost any normal fabric, yet the mask remained intact.
Remembering how it had apparently protected the Collector from rifle rounds, he reached for his combat knife and pressed the point firmly against its surface.
The blade failed to penetrate.
Orion increased the pressure until the knife itself began to strain, but the mask still showed no visible damage.
Physical durability alone, however, couldn’t explain why the Collector had survived catastrophic injuries or why the mask had refused to come off until Orion decapitated him.
There was clearly something else hidden inside it.
“Should I put it on?” The thought appeared almost casually.
Then it refused to leave.
Orion stared at the mask as the urge rapidly grew stronger, changing from simple curiosity into an almost irresistible need to know what would happen.
A faint blue glow slowly appeared inside his pupils, but Orion himself failed to notice anything unusual about his behavior.
With the same calm expression he wore during combat, he lifted the Collector’s mask toward his face and pulled it over his head.
The instant the mask settled into place, a strange energy poured toward Orion’s brain.
The blue light in his eyes intensified while his normal emotions began fading one after another, leaving behind an increasingly cold and detached consciousness eerily similar to the Collector’s.
Whatever had transformed the serial killer was now attempting to do the same thing to Orion.
Then the Black Book reacted.
Clatter… Deep within Orion’s consciousness, its pages began turning by themselves.
The book stopped on a completely blank page just as the invading energy reached deeper into Orion’s mind, then released an invisible force that dragged the foreign power away from his brain.
The Collector’s strange energy poured into the Black Book instead, and dark writing slowly began appearing across the previously empty page.
(End of Chapter)