“I have every right to come looking for you.
But you fought back, and you even killed my men.
That’s where you crossed the line.”
Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, Deacon Frost, who possessed a delicate, feminine face, narrowed his eyes as he heard Locke’s words.
Indeed.
This was exactly why the Council of Thirteen had rejected his proposal when he informed them of the matter, intending to make an example out of Locke and Brown.
In the words of the Elders:
The Covenant is meant to be upheld, not broken.
Over the years, although some extraordinary races have been itching to break it, none have dared to be the first to stick their necks out.
After all, the Five Major Powers all possess the capability to destroy the world.
Moreover, they really were the ones in the wrong here.
The Sentinel Secret Service came to investigate.
You should have just complied and cooperated.
Why did you have to fight back?
So…
Upon hearing that the Sentinel Secret Service was hunting vampires across New York City for revenge, the thirteen Pureblood Vampires simply declared: *Let them kill.
Once they’ve killed enough, their anger will fade.*
After all, the ones dying were just half-breeds.
Even if another zero were added to the hundred deaths, the thirteen Pureblood Vampires wouldn’t feel a single shred of pity.
If anyone asked why, it was because in the vampire world, half-breeds were untouchables.
The vampire society was one of strict, absolute hierarchy.
The thirteen Pureblood Vampires sat high above.
Fundamentally, as long as the thirteen Pureblood Vampires did not die out, even if they were the only ones left in New York, they could easily repopulate the city with vampires in a single day.
Forget about the Sentinel Secret Service wiping out all the vampires in New York—even if they killed Deacon Frost himself, the thirteen Pureblood Vampires wouldn’t care in the slightest.
Yes.
He, the leader of New York’s vampires, Deacon Frost, was also nothing more than a peasant in the eyes of the thirteen pureblood elders.
*Those thirteen damned old geezers!*
*With insects like them in charge, how are we supposed to expand our race and establish vampire supremacy?*
*Just you wait.
Once I find…*
But circumstances dictated actions.
The thirteen pureblood elders had ordered him to appease the Sentinel Secret Service’s anger as quickly as possible.
And for his own plans, he had to settle this quickly.
Deacon Frost lowered his eyes expressionlessly.
“We can resolve this peacefully, Mr.
Underwood.”
“Call me Agent when I’m on duty.”
Deacon Frost opened his mouth, then closed his eyes, steadying his breathing.
“I believe that if this continues, it won’t benefit either of us.”
Locke exchanged a glance with Brown once more, then smiled at the phone on the bar counter, which was on speakerphone.
“What is Mr.
Frost’s proposal?”
“Two million.”
“What?”
Locke raised an eyebrow.
“I am willing to offer two million dollars as compensation for this incident to put an end to it.”
“…”
Well, as expected of a vampire.
They certainly had money.
Two million dollars, offered without even blinking.
Locke looked at Brown again.
Brown didn’t speak, but his expression said it all.
After all, two million was not a small sum.
And after a month of hunting and killing so many vampires, the fire of revenge in their hearts had gradually subsided.
Locke smiled at Brown’s expression and spoke to Deacon Frost on the other end: “Alright.
How do we make the trade?”
Deacon Frost laughed.
“Straightforward!
Tonight at seven o’clock, in the abandoned hangar next to JFK International Airport.”
Locke narrowed his eyes and remained silent.
Deacon Frost chuckled.
“Surely Agent Underwood isn’t afraid?”
“Yes,” Locke said candidly.
“I am indeed worried that this is a trap.”
After all, the night was vampire territory.
Although it was also his territory…
But Locke had already decided: until he could take on the entire world single-handedly, or until he had accumulated one million Extraordinary Points, his main strategy was to play it safe and grow in silence.
He didn’t want to pretend to be a weakling just to ambush people, but he also didn’t want to die before his journey had truly begun.
Playing it safe now was only to build a solid foundation so he could run wild in the future.
When he could finally run completely wild…
He would instantly ascend to the level of “I don’t eat beef”—doing whatever he wanted, with absolute, unquestioned dominance.
For now…
he could be bold, but he couldn’t be reckless!
Deacon Frost laughed again over the phone.
“This doesn’t quite sound like the Agent Underwood I’ve heard about.”
“And what kind of person have you heard I am, Mr.
Frost?”
Deacon Frost smiled.
“From what I know, Agent Underwood and that Mr.
Brown are the notorious executioners of the Sentinel Secret Service.
You never leave survivors—whether they are our kind or mutants.”
“…”
Hearing this, Locke and Brown looked at each other, then turned to Debbie, who was standing nearby.
Meeting their gazes, Debbie was slightly taken aback.
She whispered, “Boss, did you two seriously not know you have this nickname in the department?”
She had assumed her boss and Brown were fully aware of their own reputation.
This was also why, after the agents of Team One and Squad Five were attacked by mutants earlier this year, many people in the department had been indignant.
Because the other squads only captured mutants.
But Team One—specifically Locke and Brown—actually killed them.
Yet, the mutants didn’t dare attack the Sentinels who actually killed their kind; instead, they kept launching attacks against the Sentinels who only captured them.
What, did they think the nice guys deserved to be bullied?
Locke and Brown exchanged another look, both seeing the utter speechlessness in each other’s eyes.
Locke felt particularly innocent.
God was his witness, he had never personally killed a single mutant.
How had he suddenly earned the moniker of “Mutant Executioner”?
At this moment, Locke finally understood what it felt like to be completely, unjustly framed.
He was incredibly wronged.
But now was not the time to debate his nickname.
Locke coughed, picked up the phone from the bar, and said to Deacon Frost, “Fine.
But I have one condition.”
Deacon Frost smiled.
“Please, do tell.”
“You come in person.”
“This…”
“I would very much like to meet the famous leader of New York’s vampires.
And if nothing goes wrong, I believe our paths will cross again in the future, wouldn’t you say?”
“…”
Locke smiled as silence fell over the other end of the line.
“What?
Is Mr.
Frost afraid that if he comes, he won’t be able to leave with his life?”
“No.”
“Oh?”
“You can’t kill me!”