Chapter 2

Shunk!

Walt pressed his hand on his own neck as hard as he could, but despair was apparent in his eyes as there was no stopping the foundation of blood.

At that moment, he realized why Skyler had offered him a handshake.

It was not a gesture of politeness, but probing!

Skyler had already seen through Walt right then!

-

On the other hand, the five policemen attending the 'traffic accident' scrambled toward the Bentley, each whipping out their handguns.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

They had seen what happened through the windshield, and started firing from point-blank range repeatedly even as they kept running towards the car.

With the rapid crack of gunshots, the Bentley was quickly riddled with holes. By the time they closed in to just five feet away, they had emptied an entire clip and reloaded.

However, as the car was covered in smoke from the gunfire, the hitmen couldn't confirm if Skyler was dead from the front.

Their leader, a man with a full beard, wheeled on two of his two subordinates. "Look inside!"

They traded glances, training their guns on the backseat as they approached from the left and the right…

Clang!

When they got a little too close, the right door was launched outwards with a kick, crashing into one of them with such breathtaking force that sent him flying!

Even as the other hitmen heard the cringing crunch of their comrade's bones, a figure dashed out of the car just behind the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The hitman on the left side of the car promptly fired.

However, as soon as Skyler leaped out of the car, he launched himself in a barrel roll to the right, avoiding any bullets by hiding himself behind the Bentley.

Then, with one fluid motion, he swung his hand.

Shunk.

The hitman on the left side of the car suddenly stopped firing.

When he looked down, he found himself staring at a knife protruding from the left side of his chest—over his heart.

It was Walt's knife, which Skyler had thrown from the left side of the car, somehow piercing the sturdy window of the Bentley and the hitman's heart.

The sheer accuracy and power of that throw was ridiculous!

At the same time, Skyler dove toward the right in another barrel roll, towards the hitman knocked down by the car door.

On one hand, he was safe from the hitman on the left side of the car.

But on the other, he was also fully exposed to the remaining three hitmen in front of the car.

And to no surprise, the hitmen were firing at him rapidly, but Skyler had already reached the hitman he knocked down with the door.

Plus he had a gun too!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

No other gunshot could be heard just a second later.

Just over ten yards away, all three remaining hitmen collapsed at the same time, horror frozen in their eyes.

One might even say that they couldn't believe it—Skyler only fired three times, but each struck them lethally, dead center between their eyes!

Meanwhile, the hitman knocked down by the door was flailing around.

A good number of his bones were broken—he wasn't going to die, but he couldn't stand either.

As Skyler walked up to him, he smiled, "Who sent you?"

Seeing that the hitman was silent, he whipped out a five-inch schlong needle out of nowhere.

Shunk!

The needle was thrust into the hitman's lower back before he knew it, and he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Who?" Skyler asked again curtly.

"J-Just kill me…" The hitman snarled, already wishing he was dead.

"Not yet."

Skyler simply drew out a second needle and asked quietly, "Why don't we double your pain instead?"

"It's our guild!" The hitman promptly cried, completely giving in. "We're the Seven Deaths!"

"The Seven Deaths?"

"Yes, I'm just following others… I don't know anything else…"

"Just checking, but the Seven Deaths—as in the fourteenth guild in Horton's rankings?"

"What…"

The hitman gaped in disbelief. "Who the hell are you?!"

"The Reaper."

Skyler put away his needles and raised the gun.

"The Reaper…?"

On the other hand, the hitman started laughing maniacally.

As a hitman, there was no way he never came across the codename—the man was a legend in their business!

In fact, it was probably a lifetime honor for an insignificant person like him to meet such a legend.

As for his fate… it may have been sealed the instant his guild decided that the Reaper was their target.

Bang!

With the crack of a gunshot, the last hitman was shot in the head, his eyes wide open in death.

Skyler looked around at the corpses strewn all over the road, and quickly started to clean up.

Then, he went over the highway curb, towards the barren fields that stretched as far as the eye could see…

-

Beep, boop, beep, boop!

Half an hour later, several police cars came bounding down the road, and a special unit armed to the teeth promptly got off to set up a perimeter.

Then, minutes later, an SUV screeched to a halt nearby, and the driver alighted.

She was a woman in her twenties with a beautiful face. Standing well over 5'7" with a curvaceous figure, her skin was healthily tanned and flawless.

Under her thick lashes, her spirited eyes were adorably large as if from an anime.

On top of that, her uniform didn't just accentuate her stunning curves elegantly, she appeared to carry a masculine edge that matched her short hair.

While long hair would add to a woman's beauty, rocking short locks was a testament to true beauty—and she was undoubtedly one.

"What's the situation, Uncle Sam?" She asked a middle-aged officer as she crossed into the perimeter.

Sam Larkin shot her with a look of resignation. "Oh, you… Your papa told you not to get involved. Don't you know that you're just making life difficult for me?"

Even so, what could he do?

The Summers simply held a high rank in the precinct, and even a special unit captain like Sam was but minions to them.

On top of that, he knew how stubborn Linda Summer could be, and telling her no was pointless anyway.

Linda giggled. "Chill. I'm just taking a look!"

"Captain!"

A special unit officer ran over with a befuddled look. "We have something!"

"Report!"

"It was a firefight, but…"

The special unit officer mused to himself for a moment before continuing, "We have six bodies, each of them carrying the same model of firearm and obviously from the same gang… But the scene suggests that they all killed each other."

Huh?!

Sam was dumbstruck—if they were from the same gang, why would they have a firefight, let alone kill each other?

"Also…"

The special unit officer muttered with increasing confusion. "The right wrist of the deceased still in the car was completely crushed. Judging from the bruising, it looked like someone was holding his wrist, before crushing it with his bare hands… but they left no fingerprints!"

Both Linda and Sam were stunned—how much strength would it take to crush bone with bare hands?

"And aside from the other one who had a knife sticking out of his chest, the rest are all shot dead between the eyes."

Sam's face was ashen, and it took him a while to finally speak, "So we're looking at an expert marksman—one who possesses superhuman strength, and is capable of manipulating a crime scene. After all, he must have erased any traces of his presence and staged this scene, so that it looked like the aftermath of a firefight."

"Search those care plates, find where they've from, where they've been and who was using them… As well as the identity of the deceased!"