Chapter 27 Winston: I Want to File a Report!

"Winston, nice to meet you. Should I introduce myself out of respect?"

Anton walked slowly toward Winston, his lower face revealing a faint, almost mocking smile.

Winston had never imagined that Anton could crack the code and enter this safe house. He hurriedly put down his glass, raised his gun, and pointed it at Anton.

At this point, Anton's armor remained pristine, jet black and devoid of any bloodstains. Yet, on his way here, he had shattered countless bones and paralyzed many. His aura was menacing.

The pressure weighed on Winston, sweat forming on his brow.

He knew the gun in his hand was useless against the armored man before him, yet he couldn't bring himself to lower it.

"the Continental Hotel has been around for so many years, and you're the first to break in here."

He tried to maintain a composed tone. "Batman, I don't care who you really are; this is the Continental Hotel, under the jurisdiction of the High Table. Killing me will offend every assassin in New York's underworld, not to mention the High Table itself."

"This doesn't sound like an attitude that wants to reconcile."

Anton looked at Winston with a calm tone, sending chills down Winston's spine.

Winston understood there would be no peaceful resolution to this.

Even if Anton let him go now, Winston would report this to the High Table afterward.

"What exactly do you want?" Winston's face was grim.

"Revenge!"

Anton's tone was steady. "You sent people to kill me; isn't revenge perfectly reasonable?"

"I sent people to kill you?"

Winston was stunned, dumbfounded.

Suddenly, he realized this was payback for some previous mistake—a trap he had fallen into.

"What will it take for you to let me go?"

Winston tried to stay calm.

He sensed that this man didn't seem intent on killing him.

"The Life Foundation."

Anton spoke clearly, enunciating each word.

Winston's eyes widened, recalling the final task he had given to John Wick before his retirement.

"You're…"

A realization struck him, leaving him incredulous.

Under Anton's icy gaze, he couldn't bring himself to say the name.

...

Some time later.

The clock ticked toward midnight.

Woo-woo!

A large convoy of police cars arrived at the entrance of the Continental Hotel.

Not far away, a group of reporters, cameras in hand, eagerly recorded the scene.

The reporters were excited.

Usually, they wouldn't dare come near the Continental Hotel, given its powerful background in Manhattan. Although everyone knew the shady dealings there, most journalists were more interested in staying alive than in getting a story.

Today was different.

They had been invited here, with police leading the way.

Could it be that the Continental Hotel had fallen?

Who had they offended?

The reporters were thrilled; this was a story that could shake New York, worth at least a few thousand in bonuses.

In front of everyone, a group of armed officers stormed into the Continental Hotel.

After a while, they emerged with dozens of blood-soaked, heavily injured assassins, tossing them directly into police vans.

Throughout the process, not a single gunshot was heard.

The entire area was deathly silent.

So where did these bloodied assassins get their injuries from?

The reporters were deep in thought.

Later, when they returned home, all their reports headlined with "New York Police Unite to Capture Gang Members," without exception.

Little did they know that even the police who entered the Continental Hotel were stunned.

The place was littered with fallen assassins and gangsters.

Given the equipment scattered around, if an actual fight had broken out, it would have taken the National Guard to wipe them out.

If the police had been tasked with handling it, they would have been overwhelmed.

"Who is this guy?"

Some officers, who had been patrolling Manhattan when they saw Anton racing toward the hotel dressed as Batman, had a hunch about the source of this mayhem, silently marveling.

The situation had escalated. Calls had come directly from City Hall to the police department.

Commissioner George Stacy, who had already clocked out, was forced to rush to the Continental Hotel.

As a senior police officer, George knew all about the Continental Hotel.

In the past, they hadn't intervened simply because they couldn't.

The city had been around long enough for rules to become entrenched.

George wasn't naive.

On the contrary, his position as NYPD Commissioner was due not only to his sense of justice and firm methods but also to his understanding that some things were best left to the underworld.

As the saying goes, "You need magic to fight magic."

Someone like him, from the aboveground world, wouldn't benefit from meddling in the underworld's grime, and he preferred not to.

Of course, since the opportunity had presented itself, he wouldn't pass up the chance for glory.

"Batman…"

George thought of his officers' reports, feeling a headache coming on.

Recently, New York's crime rate hadn't exactly been low, and complaints to the police department were piling up.

Now there was a Batman?!

A movie character?!

After this incident, George no longer thought this person was simply role-playing.

"Find out Batman's true identity."

He ordered his officers. "Also, write up a report for City Hall. We're not taking all the credit ourselves."

"Got it, don't worry, Chief."

One of his subordinates patted his chest. "Writing reports is my specialty."

Meanwhile.

A disheveled figure with a stern expression walked out of the Continental Hotel.

George squinted, offering a fake smile as he approached Winston.

"Mr. Winston, it's great to see you're unharmed in such a dangerous place," he said, feigning concern. "There was a gang shootout at the Continental Hotel, and we found some police-wanted assassins inside."

Winston's face darkened.

Seeing the police surrounding his beloved hotel and glancing at the prisoner transport vans outside, he felt a pang of pain.

This was the culmination of his life's work.

Now, half of it had crumbled in a single night.

After today, the Continental Hotel would be a laughingstock.

Thankfully, the hotel's name still stood.

By agreement, the High Table would handle the matter, and his authority wouldn't be stripped.

"Commissioner George, I have something to tell you."

Winston took a deep breath.

"I want to file a report!"

He followed George out of the hotel, speaking loudly before the reporters with a high-pitched, resolute voice: "These people were sent by the Life Foundation. Those folks from San Francisco want to destroy my hotel."

"What?"

George's eyes widened.

He never expected to hear such a statement from Winston.

Aren't these your own people?

The Life Foundation?!

How could a group from San Francisco stir up trouble in New York?!

Did they think the NYPD was a joke?

George wanted to shout but couldn't, especially in front of the reporters. All he could do was force a smile that was more a grimace.

Through gritted teeth, he said, "Tell me more. I'll ensure you get justice."

"The Life Foundation and the Continental Hotel have no feud. Their goal was to take revenge on the Daily Bugle."

In front of the cameras, Winston adopted a knowing expression and said sternly, "As for the reason, everyone understands."

"But why would they cause trouble at the Continental Hotel?" George pressed.

"You'd have to ask the Life Foundation that!" Winston responded, gritting his teeth, his hatred plainly genuine.

"In this matter, I have no reason to lie. The Life Foundation is the culprit!"

He stated each word clearly, giving a firm conclusion to the matter.

George was stunned, realizing that Winston truly believed the Life Foundation was responsible.

But this didn't match the information he'd received!

The troublemaker was clearly this Batman who had appeared out of nowhere, so how did the Life Foundation get involved?

Shouldn't he hate Batman?

George was baffled.

Whoosh!

Just then, a breeze blew through.

"Look up!"

Someone caught a glimpse of a figure atop the Continental Hotel and shouted in shock, "What is that?"