The Assassin of the Brotherhood

After being rejected by Russell again, Perkins didn't continue trying to seduce him. She reverted to her usual aloof beauty persona.

After chatting with Perkins for a while and catching up on the major events in the hitman world over the past week, Russell settled Perkins' bill and left the bar.

Over the past week, he had been focused on activating the "Venom Symbiote" and hadn't paid much attention to the hitman world.

Aside from the Punisher seemingly targeting hitmen, he heard something interesting.

The Brotherhood, a self-proclaimed righteous group of hitmen in New York, had experienced a case of a hitman defecting.

And the defector from the Brotherhood was none other than their ace hitman, Cross.

Although all were hitmen, those from the Brotherhood and the ones at the Continental Hotel were worlds apart.

Firstly, the Brotherhood's hitmen didn't kill for money; they killed for what they believed was justice.

Or rather, they believed they were doing God's work.

Through a mystical fate-weaving device, God's will was communicated via encrypted names.

Their duty was to kill the individuals whose names appeared.

As for why the targets deserved to die, they didn't concern themselves with that. It was all God's will!

Furthermore, the hitmen of the Brotherhood possessed an intricate technique known as "Bullet Curving."

Conventional bullets traveled in a straight line.

By analyzing the barrel, one could predict the trajectory.

But the bullets shot using Bullet Curving were flexible; they could bend, change direction, and even create loops in mid-air if needed.

While this might not be scientific at all, the world's great scientists, like Uncle Newton, Uncle Einstein, and Mr. Darwin, should have long been accustomed to such things. They probably wouldn't even flinch at opening a coffin to take a look.

It's just bullets that can turn, nothing too extraordinary.

Some people can even swing on a lightning bolt!

Like someone in Russell's family.

Before he crossed over to this world, Russell had already heard of the Brotherhood's reputation.

Their Bullet Curving technique and the voluntary control of adrenaline left a deep impression on him.

Though he had some interest in these abilities, he hadn't come into contact with the Brotherhood's assassins after becoming one himself.

They were all a bunch of brainwashed individuals.

Getting involved with them without clear benefits would bring more harm than good.

The current leader of the Brotherhood, Sloan, wasn't a good person either.

The defection of Cross from the Brotherhood indicated that Sloan had also realized this.

More importantly, in Russell's view, those who believed a spinning machine could weave a language of destiny weren't very bright.

A spinning machine manufactured a thousand years ago would naturally produce errors while weaving threads – that was perfectly normal.

Even modern computers can experience strange bugs with extended use.

And, let alone an ancient spinning machine that's a thousand years old.

As for extracting a target's name from threads, that wasn't particularly special.

The "Infinite Monkey Theorem"!

With enough monkeys, typewriters, and time, one monkey would inevitably produce a complete version of Shakespeare's "Hamlet."

This theorem might seem counterintuitive, but it's a provable mathematical concept.

Although the "Infinite Monkey Theorem" can't be replicated in real life, weaving incorrect threads on a spinning machine and forming a name in binary is completely possible.

More cunningly, the Brotherhood's mindset formed an irrefutable logical loop.

If they killed a target, the dead person, of course, couldn't influence the world or others anymore.

But similarly, even if the target were to become a future savior of the world, they wouldn't have that chance anymore because they were already gone.

The moment the Brotherhood killed a target, they stamped them as evil.

Conversely, if the Brotherhood didn't kill a target, any serious future consequences could be attributed to destiny's hints.

Even if that consequence were an accident, in the Brotherhood's eyes, it would be because they hadn't followed destiny's instructions to kill.

To Russell, these people of the Brotherhood were as naive as the millions of people who believed the Earth was flat.

Just as innocent!

Although the assassins of the Brotherhood believed that a spinning machine could weave the language of destiny, it wasn't entirely their fault.

Russell didn't doubt that there were extraordinary powers capable of foreseeing the future in this world. However, such powers certainly wouldn't manifest in an antique spinning machine.

However, the Brotherhood's assassins might not be the brightest bunch, but Russell was interested in their abilities of Bullet Curving and autonomous control of adrenaline.

If he had the chance, getting hold of these abilities wouldn't be bad.

In his mind, Russell fantasized about autonomously controlling adrenaline and discussing the mysteries of the universe with Diana.

It would be even more perfect if Diana put on her battle armor.

While he was lost in his fantasies, the driver stopped the car.

"Sir, we've reached your destination. I can only take you here."

"Why?"

Russell was still immersed in his pleasant imagination and hadn't paid attention to the situation ahead.

"The place you want to go has been blocked by the police, and there are fire trucks."

The Indian driver spoke with a distinct Indian accent.

Uh…

Only now did Russell cast aside his unhealthy thoughts and look ahead.

The driver was right; the building he wanted to reach was now blocked by the police.

Firefighters were evacuating people from the building, and high-pressure water jets were spraying wildly at a street-facing window on the fifth floor.

Seeing the window intermittently spewing flames, Russell's expression became rather grim.

The room that was currently on fire was his office.

Damn it!

"Ten minutes. Return to the hotel you were just at, and all of this is yours!"

Russell didn't get out of the car; he pulled out two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and waved them in front of the driver.

"No problem, sir. Hold on tight!"

Under a heavy reward, there's bound to be a brave soul.

This Indian driver demonstrated this quite well.

In the not-so-great traffic conditions of New York, the driver took less than seven minutes to get Russell back to the Continental Hotel.

After handing over the money to the driver, Russell entered the Continental Hotel with a dark expression.

Although he didn't yet know who the jerk was that burned down his office, one thing was clear: he was very angry right now, extremely angry.

An anonymous call that he didn't know where it came from disrupted his plan to activate the "Venom Symbiote" and resulted in him playing a round of Truth or Dare with Diana.

As he had just come to the Continental Hotel to find a hacker to investigate the anonymous call, before he could even get in touch with the hacker, his office was burned down.

Although it was possibly just a coincidence, Russell didn't see it that way.

He initially thought the anonymous call was arranged by S.H.I.E.L.D., but now it seemed that Hydra was more likely.