Chapter 10

Noah Clover stretched out his hand and frisked the Black youth, who was still groaning in pain. Sure enough, he pulled a pistol from the guy's waistband.

"As expected from Free America. The loot drop rate here is definitely not on the same level as other countries," Noah sighed sarcastically. He then pointed the gun at the dreadlocked man.

The sight of the barrel pointing at him made the dreadlocked guy freeze. Without hesitation, he raised his hands, placed them on the back of his head, and lay flat on the ground, surrendering completely. His movements were so smooth and rehearsed that Noah wondered if the guy had practiced for situations like this.

Realizing the seriousness of the situation, the dreadlocked man tried to talk his way out. "Hey, man, this is just a misunderstanding! We were only messing around!"

Noah gave him a lighthearted grin, though his eyes remained cold. "That's fine. I love jokes." He flipped the safety off the gun and pressed the muzzle to the man's forehead. "Now, why don't you tell me just how bad you are? I'll think about letting you go."

The dreadlocked man blinked, utterly confused. What was this guy playing at?

"Hurry up!" Noah urged, growing impatient.

Under the threat of the gun, the man reluctantly began, "Uh… I've robbed a few people, stolen some cash and phones."

Noah glanced at the game panel in his mind. There was now a small line of text next to the unlocking conditions.

[Target does not meet the conditions]

Noah shook his head, unimpressed. "Not bad enough."

The dreadlocked man was taken aback. He hadn't expected his confession to be dismissed so casually.

"Okay, uh... I've stiffed some hookers, never paid for their services."

"Still not bad enough."

"I... I peeked at my neighbor while she was showering!"

Noah rolled his eyes. "Gross, but not bad enough."

"I..." The man seemed to have opened the floodgates, confessing one petty crime after another.

This level of detail, even the NYPD would have struggled to get from him. But Noah managed it easily. Yet, he was still dissatisfied.

Looking at the game panel, Noah saw no progress toward his goal. He shook his head in disgust. "Really? That's all you've got? And you call yourself a bad guy? You're embarrassing all the real criminals out there!"

The dreadlocked man fell silent. With a gun aimed at him, he couldn't argue.

"Forget it," Noah sighed, clearly disappointed. "I knew unlocking this achievement wasn't going to be that easy."

He bent down, took another pistol from the man's waistband, and then looked at both men lying on the ground.

"Now, hand over everything valuable you've got. And don't try any tricks. I know your friend here's probably having a hard time moving, so go ahead and help him out."

The dreadlocked man, knowing he was beaten, grudgingly emptied his pockets. Cash, phones, everything they had on them came out. His companion, who was still writhing on the ground, followed suit. Both of them knew resisting wasn't an option.

Noah frowned, clearly not satisfied. "Didn't you hear me? I said everything valuable. That includes the gold teeth in your buddy's mouth. Oh, and are those Air Jordans legit?"

The dreadlocked man paused, realizing just how much trouble they were in.

He finally understood—compared to the devil in front of him, his crimes were child's play.

The two black punks didn't have much value on them.

Apart from the scattered cash, the most valuable items were a mobile phone and two bloody gold teeth. As for the two pairs of AJ shoes, whose authenticity was unknown, Noah Clover couldn't stand the sour smell and threw them away.

After solving the money problem, Noah didn't linger any longer.

He stepped out onto the street and hailed a taxi, immediately setting off for one of the locations given by the intel.

After all, this was tied to his basic necessities. If he didn't solve it quickly, he'd be sleeping on the street within the next few days.

...

As night fell, the roads were brightly lit.

At this moment, New York—the city that never sleeps—truly came to life.

In a neighborhood on the west shore of Manhattan Island, an old taxi was parked on the side of the road.

"This is the last one," Noah muttered as he got out of the car. "Damn it, the Weasel's intel was spot on, but after searching so many places, I haven't even seen a trace of the target."

He wasn't sure if it was bad intel or just bad luck.

By the end of the day, Noah had practically driven all over New York but still couldn't find his target. He even began to wonder if the Weasel had tricked him.

Following the location from the intel, Noah quickly found an apartment, then took the elevator to the floor where his target was supposed to be.

In the elevator, Noah started planning how he would handle the situation.

First of all, he didn't want to attract too much attention, especially from the gang behind the target.

So Noah's plan was simple: find the target, follow him secretly, and when he reached a quiet spot, shoot him. That way, it'd be nearly impossible to trace the murder back to him.

Alright, let's do this.

Noah readied his pistol as the elevator doors began to open.

"Ding!"

As the doors slid open, Noah's expression froze.

Standing right outside were several burly Russian men, all armed with guns. In the middle of them was his target, Jeff Mond, holding a silver case.

They seemed to have been waiting for the elevator, and when they saw Noah standing there, both sides were momentarily stunned. Their eyes quickly landed on the pistol in Noah's hand.

The air suddenly felt tense.

Noah coughed, trying to sound casual, and smiled. "If I said I was just passing by, would you believe me?"

"Kill him!" someone shouted.

Immediately, the Russians raised their weapons and opened fire on Noah!

Da-da-da-da-da...

Bullets riddled Noah's body, blood splattering everywhere. The force of the shots drove him backward, pinning him against the elevator wall, his limbs jerking uncontrollably.

Two seconds later, the firing stopped, and the thick smell of blood filled the elevator. As Noah's bloody body slumped down the wall, Mond cursed and said, "Damn it, where did this guy come from?"

"Could it be that other gangs found out about our deal tonight and sent someone to stop us?"

"They wouldn't be dumb enough to send just one guy."

"Doesn't matter, dead is dead. We've still got Vladimir's orders. Let's get out of here, fast."