43

Chapter 43: Forty-three, Join If You Can't Beat It

Another mysterious organization.

SHIELD?

Locke raised an eyebrow, sensing a SHIELD presence in everything.

Yet, SHIELD was originally a joke.

As the saying goes, wanting to do everything but excelling at nothing.

Counter-terrorism?

Let alone, where was SHIELD during the September 11 incident three years ago?

Arms dealing?

Global arms smuggling continued unabated; the federal underground black market was practically an open bazaar.

Assassination?

The Continental Hotel on Pearl Street in New York was only two blocks from SHIELD's office. Did SHIELD even notice?

They simply couldn't handle it.

Again.

Training agents who preferred defecting to academia over returning? That's laughable.

"Yeah?"

Locke's mind raced, a contemptuous smile playing on his lips. "If you're here to warn me and advise me to stay vigilant against this mysterious organization, then thank you. I won't surrender my possessions. Anyone who dares to take them will pay the price."

If SHIELD dared to come, he'd dare to kill.

Only the task's rewards could affect Locke, never fear or stability.

Given enough incentive, he'd take on the Aegis itself without hesitation.

A mere Aegis. Without Hydra involvement, it was inferior to the New York Brotherhood. Locke could dismantle SHIELD entirely.

At least, the Fraternity's bullets could turn on their wielders. Could SHIELD's?

Ah.

Callum Lynch frowned slightly, sensing Locke's firm, resolute intent to kill. It was a subconscious, decisive resolve.

"This mysterious organization—I've only scratched the surface of their operations. Victoria Knox, who told me how to find you, was once associated with them."

"Who?"

"Victoria Knox, an arms dealer."

"Ah."

Locke nodded, eyeing Callum. "Is she dead?"

Callum hesitated.

Locke smirked, tapping his glass. "I jest, of course I know who she is."

The first part was a jest, but the second wasn't.

Victoria Knox had been sentenced to death in Locke's mind.

He didn't hold her confession for survival against her. It was survival instinct. Locke understood. However, Locke wouldn't pardon Victoria.

Callum and the adjacent Sovia exchanged looks.

Sovia seemed hesitant but nodded in agreement nonetheless.

Locke raised an eyebrow, interpreting their body language.

What now?

Callum addressed Locke, "Mr. Wushuang, you possess the Golden Apple. According to the Brotherhood, it should be under their stewardship, so..."

After all this talk, was this where they were headed?

Fine.

In deference to your Magneto-esque appearance, I'll play along.

Locke squinted.

But just as Locke's heart chilled, prompting the system to ping a mission, Callum gasped, "In the name of the Brotherhood, I invite you to join us and become one of our members."

System: "What the...???"

Locke's killing intent dissipated as swiftly as the tide recedes, naturally quelling the system's urge to issue a mission.

Blinking, he returned to his senses, looking at Callum. "What?"

Join them if you can't beat them?

Callum spoke earnestly, "I see a commonality between us. Join us and stand as one of ours."

Locke adjusted his posture, nearly choking. "Wait... weren't you here to take the Golden Apple?"

What was unfolding?

Locke was bewildered.

Callum nodded, serious. "We did plan to, but after reviewing your dossier and this brief encounter, we've realized you're more akin to us."

Locke: "..."

Everything is permitted, nothing is true!

That's the Brotherhood's creed, under which three principles exist.

First, no wanton slaughter of innocents.

Second, conceal in plain sight.

Third, never compromise the Brotherhood's alliance.

Callum continued, "You only eliminate the guilty. You could have killed the cop, but you didn't. Since your emergence, no one has managed to identify you. Furthermore, you anticipated we'd discover 'Locke', leaving your contact. You even mastered the 'shooting technique' of the New York Fraternity. You're one of us, join us."

Locke opened his mouth.

He didn't spare the cop because his name was George; try someone else.

No one's discovered him because he doesn't exist.

As for leaving the contact, it's one of three plans to safeguard his identity.

Why join the Brotherhood?

That's what he's wondering.

Locke smiled, pondering Callum. "And if I said I'm not interested?"

Callum's gaze remained steady. "We'll keep watch. Should you misuse the Golden Apple to harm the world, we'll hound you until death, or until we perish."

Locke nodded. "A stern warning."

Callum corrected, "It's not a threat, it's a declaration."

Locke met Callum's eyes. Just as he prepared to decline, he recalled the mission prompted by the system.

Roman Orthodoxy in Locke?

This task might not be straightforward.

Initially, Locke assumed Callum intended robbery. If so, it'd be manageable.

Kill.

Kill them and the issue's resolved.

But...

Callum's clearly sharp.

Roman Orthodoxy in Locke—why name it orthodoxy? He reviewed Brotherhood intel. Post-Rome's fall, the Brotherhood fragmented.

Eastern Brotherhood.

Italian Brotherhood.

Egyptian Brotherhood.

Flowering Brotherhoods, each claiming authenticity, and Roman Orthodoxy within him.

Good heavens.

A series of tasks awaits.

Could the system wish for him to absorb all Brotherhoods, leaving only one? Might Roman Orthodoxy then follow him?

"Damn!"

Locke's premonition was affirmed, darkening his expression.

But...