The Judge Arrives

This battle held an immense significance for the Knights Templar. While it wasn't announced in advance, it marked their first direct confrontation with the formidable forces of the High Table. It was a grand-scale clash, meant to be displayed to the world and solidify their reputation.

The journey to the battleground was a tense thirty-minute drive, with bloodshed looming in the air. Every step forward seemed to invite multiple assassination attempts, but in the blink of an eye, the hidden Templars among the crowd would detect and eliminate the killers.

As the fallen bodies of the assassins littered the roadside, the passers-by exhibited an eerie indifference. They had grown accustomed to the presence of killers, to the point where it no longer fazed them. The police turned a blind eye, and the country chose to ignore the issue, leaving ordinary people feeling helpless.

Revenge was a desire harbored by those who lost loved ones, but not everyone possessed the skills and prowess of a movie star like John Wick or Wesley Gibson. Not everyone could take down over 400 people single-handedly for the sake of a dog, nor dismantle a centuries-old organization brimming with dangerous individuals.

Under the constant threat of assassins, the apathy of society, and the void left by the law, ordinary people could only watch and bear witness. Yet, within their hearts, the seeds of hatred were silently sown.

Over the years, how many dark seeds of animosity had been planted, nurtured by circumstances?

Jack surveyed his surroundings, skillfully using his hand wrench to deflect bullets fired from concealed positions. He noticed the flicker of delight in the eyes of the onlookers whenever a killer met their demise. Deep down, he understood the truth.

....

Thirty minutes, no more, no less.

Jack fulfilled his promise flawlessly, escorting Edward to the grand entrance of the illustrious New York Continental Hotel. As he bid his farewell, a trail of blood marked the path he left behind, testament to the mayhem that unfolded within those fleeting moments.

Entering the Continental Hotel was no ordinary feat; one needed an identity, a symbol of unwavering loyalty known as the "Allegiance to the High Table." This exclusive privilege was reserved for seasoned assassins or members of formidable organizations. However wuth Winston on his side, the formalities became a triviality.

The individuals and factions privileged enough to enjoy the High Table's services were obliged to acknowledge its supremacy and become subservient entities. Hence, the influence of the High Table had permeated the very fabric of the underground world, casting its long shadow over all.

"You truly..." Winston sighed, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and exasperation. "The New York Continental Hotel witnessed a 20% loss in its ranks in just half an hour."

"Only 20%?" Jack retorted, curiosity lacing his words.

"That's in relative terms to the total number. If we consider the caliber and activity level of the assassins, it's akin to losing almost half of our finest," Winston explained, his tone tinged with a touch of exaggeration.

"A perfect audition for the role of a Templar Knight," Jack replied with a nod and a mischievous smile. "Well, in any case, they aren't exactly the type to be mourned. Besides, the fallen hold their own value, don't they?"

Winston nodded in agreement. "Indeed, that's true. However, having been a hotel proprietor here for over four decades, such upheaval unsettles me. Now, you're the new owner."

"It's just another part-time venture," Jack remarked, rising from his seat. "I'll leave this in your capable hands, my friend. I have matters to attend to elsewhere. By the way, have the bounties been increased?"

"Of course," Winston replied, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "The Continental Hotel never suffers a loss. I reckon the High Table is also preparing for the trial... It won't be long before the judges arrive."

"The High Table desires power, the Continental Hotel seeks wealth, and the Templars yearn for their lives." Jack pondered aloud.

Before his words could fade, the heavy doors of the hotel swung open once more.

....

"What?" The exclamation reverberated through the meeting room, causing a wave of confusion and concern to wash over the assembled men. They exchanged perplexed glances, their brows furrowing in collective bewilderment.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, as these men found themselves pushed to the brink of desperation by the sudden drop in drug prices orchestrated by the formidable Edward Group.

In a desperate bid to salvage their positions, they had reluctantly opted to become affiliated with the high table, accepting the price of admission and securing the coveted qualifications to offer rewards. Their plan was to reward the presidents of the pharmaceutical companies affiliated with Edward and, in the process, devise a strategy to dismantle the monopolistic stronghold of the Edward Group.

With a glimmer of hope in their eyes, they had assembled to celebrate their forthcoming triumph and to discuss the intricate details of their plan to reclaim control over the industry. However, just as they were gleefully dividing the spoils and finalizing their schemes, the shrill ring of a phone shattered the fragile illusion of victory.

"Why didn't it succeed?" one president demanded, frustration tingeing his voice. "Surely, this must be their mistake!"

"The Continental Hotel won't entertain our reasoning," replied the president who had answered the call, his tone tinged with resignation. "Once the loss of personnel exceeds a certain threshold, they demand an increase in the price."

In the span of a mere thirty minutes, the killers at the New York Continental Hotel had experienced a staggering 20% decrease in their ranks. The repercussions were far-reaching, leaving the men in the room flabbergasted and now faced with a daunting ultimatum. "So, how much are they asking us to increase the bounty?" inquired another president, his voice heavy with concern.

"Ten million dollars, and they've hinted at more to come..." The gravity of the situation settled heavily upon them, leaving them questioning how on earth they would manage such an exorbitant cash flow.

"They don't care about our predicament," the voice resonated with resignation.

"Alright, we have come too far to turn back now," declared a resolute CEO, his eyes glinting with determination.

"If this is the path we have chosen, we must face the consequences head-on. Everyone, prepare to sell off some assets and make the necessary arrangements."

The room buzzed with a mix of determination and trepidation, the weight of their choices palpable in the air.

Suddenly, a knock interrupted their conversation, drawing their attention to the door of the meeting room. A subordinate entered, his voice laden with urgency,

"Gentlemen, the commissioner of the high table has arrived."

"The high table!"

The presidents' faces drained of color, their expressions transforming into a mixture of dread and apprehension. The gravity of the situation was now truly dawning upon them. The high tables were involved, signaling a level of severity that sent shivers down their spines.

After a brief pause, an elegant figure strode into the room, her high heels clicking against the floor, commanding attention with every step.

"I am the judge from the high table," her voice cut through the air like ice, the chill palpable.

"Due to the direct consequences of your actions, the New York Continental Hotel has suffered a loss of over 20% of registered killers."

A CEO, driven by the need to defend his position, attempted to interject, but the judge swiftly silenced him.

"I am not here to engage in discussion, gentlemen. I have come solely to deliver the verdict." Her gaze swept across the room, each president feeling the weight of her scrutiny.

"The Hawk eye and the Continental Hotel will face their respective trials. However, before that, it is your turn."

An uneasy silence settled over the room as the judge's words hung in the air.

"Prepare to pack your things. You will be required to compensate the high table with 40% of your company's assets within the next ten days to account for this monumental loss. And gentlemen, make no mistake, this is not up for negotiation."

The judge placed the contract she had been holding onto the table and without another word, turned on her heels and left the room. The presidents remained frozen in place, grappling with the reality of their impending trial and the weight of the compensation demanded of them.

"It's a trial," whispered one, his voice barely audible, encapsulating the sense of unease that permeated the room.

....

The judge stepped into the luxurious, black car, specially designed to ensure her safety. As she settled into the comfortable leather seat, ready to attend to her remaining tasks for the day, little did she know that a fateful incident was about to unfold.

Just as the judge was about to give the signal to depart, the tranquility was shattered by a sudden and deafening sound. A single bullet whizzed through the air, shattering the illusion of safety provided by the supposedly bullet-proof glass.

To her disbelief, the formidable barrier turned out to be as fragile as a thin piece of paper against the armor-piercing projectile that tore through it.

In an instant, chaos ensued. The driver, caught off guard by the unexpected attack, slumped over the steering wheel. A blood-stained hole appeared between his eyebrows, and crimson droplets cascaded down his face, leaving an ominous trail. The realization of the driver's fatal wound struck the judge, freezing her in place with a mixture of shock, fear, and anger.

Silence hung heavy in the car as the judge, still in an upright position, sat motionless. Her face, once composed, now took on a ghastly pallor, reflecting the gravity of the situation. Thoughts raced through her mind, trying to comprehend the audacity and implications of the attack. Who would dare to target her? What were their motives? How had they breached the supposedly impenetrable fortress of her protection?

==========

Do you want to read ahead? Explore more chapters filled with sizzling encounters, and heart-pounding adventures.

Then what are you waiting for Join my Pa*treon right now.

Link : pa*treon.com/thebookaddict (Remove the *)