Chapter 118: Nothing More Than That
A door creaked open. The man stood in the doorway, his shadow cast long, long across the floor by the light from outside.
His name was Floyd Lawton, but when he was working, he preferred to go by his nickname.
Deadshot.
He was the best marksman on Earth, especially skilled at sniping, with a reputation for unfailing aim. He originally held the title of "the world's best assassin," but recently, a madman calling himself "Deathstroke" had emerged in the industry.
That reckless madman had recently pulled off several major jobs that had shaken the industry. There were even rumors that he himself had boasted, "As long as the price is right, even a god can be killed." Many clients were singing the praises of that madman, and many believed he was now the world's best assassin.
Lawton, however, was dismissive.
He felt the rumors were mostly exaggerated. One day, he would find a chance to have a proper showdown with that Deathstroke and show everyone who was number one in the industry.
But not today.
Today, he was here for a big job. He didn't know who the client was yet, only that they were extremely generous—the advance payment alone was eight figures. This piqued Lawton's interest in the assignment; he was more than happy to make the trip for that advance payment alone.
But when he arrived at the designated location, he found only a pitch-black, empty room, without a single soul in sight.
A prank?
But what kind of madman would spend so much money on a prank?
"I have been waiting for you, human."
A somber voice rumbled from the darkness.
Deadshot turned toward the sound and froze.
He saw a gorilla.
Yes, that's right, a gorilla—powerfully built with a massive skeleton, thick skin, and dark, dense fur.
Lawton stared blankly for a moment.
"...You're a monkey."
"Gorilla!" the gorilla snapped, annoyed. "Stupid humans can never tell the difference."
"And you're talking..."
"Of course I'm talking. Are you deaf or something?" the gorilla said with a contemptuous look.
"Alright, my client is a talking gorilla."
As a top-tier assassin who had seen it all, Lawton quickly accepted the situation.
Assassin's Rule 101: Never mind your client's background, as long as he pays—even if it's a talking gorilla.
"I hear you're the best assassin." The gorilla narrowed its eyes. "You'd better not disappoint me, human."
"Of course."
When it came to his profession, Lawton's confidence immediately returned, and he put on a cold, professional expression.
"You just need to tell me where, and who to kill."
He paused, frowning as a thought occurred to him.
"Wait, my assassination target isn't a gorilla, is it? I have to tell you up front, that might be difficult. To me, all gorillas look pretty much the same. I might not be able to pick out the right one."
The gorilla let out a heavy "Hmph," its nostrils flaring.
"Of course not. The great King wants a human killed. If not for the fact that operating in the human world is too conspicuous, we would have handled it ourselves."
"You have a King." Lawton frowned. "So, is his name Caesar, and is he planning to conquer Earth?"
The gorilla stared at him expressionlessly.
"Alright, back to the mission. Who am I killing?"
"A human, in the city you call Central City."
The gorilla tossed a small ball. The metal sphere rolled a couple of times before emitting a ray of light that formed a 3D projection on the floor.
Lawton raised an eyebrow.
A gorilla using high-tech... This was getting even more fantastical.
The projection's image showed a handsome, blond young man wearing a researcher's white coat, who appeared a bit shy.
"Barry Allen of Central City, a researcher at the Central City Police Department's crime forensics laboratory." The gorilla looked at Deadshot. "Can you do it?"
"That's who I'm supposed to kill? Just some nobody."
Lawton scoffed.
"The mission will be complete by this time tomorrow. As for the remuneration..."
"Remuneration is not a problem. What the King can promise you is more than you can imagine," the gorilla said coldly. "But don't underestimate him. This human... might be a little different."
"They're all the same to me," Lawton said with a confident smile.
That Batman from Gotham was hyped up in the rumors as if he were a god. But Lawton had a run-in with him last month, and he thought he was just so-so.
He was supposed to be so tough, but after Batman had blown up his car and beaten him to a pulp, hadn't he, Deadshot, still managed to slip away?
Sure, he'd had to spend a month lying in a hospital bed, wrapped in bandages and casts, but that was all.
Batman?
Hah, nothing more than that.
"People die when they are killed."
Lawton drew his sidearm and spun it confidently in his hand.
"As long as I know the target, anyone... is just a single shot away."
Any target locked on by Deadshot faces only death. There are no exceptions.
Could he possibly dodge my bullet?
"Let's hope so."
The gorilla grunted sullenly and retreated into the darkness.
"I'll be waiting for your news."
Central City, a fast-food restaurant.
"A beef cheeseburger, a cheeseburger, boneless fried chicken, crispy chicken nuggets... and I'll also have a hot dog, a salad, and a serving of creamy mushroom pasta..."
Barry Allen rattled off his order from the menu, and the waitress taking it down scribbled furiously on her notepad. Her writing speed was so fast that the tip of her pen seemed to leave an afterimage, but she still couldn't keep up with him.
A month ago, he was struck by a bolt of lightning in his laboratory. After a month of being bedridden, during which doctors had declared he might never wake up, he miraculously regained consciousness a few days ago. He then recovered at a speed that left doctors speechless and was soon up and about.
The only thing was, ever since then, he was always hungry.
"...Hmm, I guess that's all for now. Huh? Why are you all sweaty?"
"Oh, it's... it's nothing..."
The waitress, who had filled three full pages and whose hand was about to cramp, was panting as she pushed a sweat-matted strand of hair off her forehead.
"Just to confirm, sir, are you waiting for friends?"
Barry blinked.
"No, why?"
"Then all this..." the waitress looked at him strangely, gesturing to the three full pages. "You're eating it all yourself?"
"Oh, yeah. For some reason, my appetite has been really good lately..."
The waitress's mouth fell open.
Eating enough food for several people, all of it high-fat and high-calorie... And you call this a good appetite?
What was even more incredible was that the young man looked slim and was rather handsome.
How did he eat like this and not get fat?
Damn it, I'm so envious.
The waitress took the notepad and left.
However, it wasn't long before Barry was back at the counter.
"Sorry, is my food ready yet?" he asked with a frown.
The waitress looked at him in astonishment, then glanced at the time.
"Um, sir, although we're a fast-food restaurant, we're not *that* fast. It's only been thirty seconds..."
"Only thirty seconds?"
Barry scratched his head.
"It feels like it's been a while... Anyway, please hurry them up for me. Faster, faster."
He returned to his chair but fidgeted as if he were sitting on pins and needles. First, he crossed his left leg over his right, then his right leg over his left, his knuckles unconsciously tapping a rapid rhythm on the table...
A food tray was placed in front of him.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Barry looked up, his face lighting up with pleasant surprise.
"Agent Williams?"
"That's me."
Orin Vale, using his "Agent Williams" pseudonym, gave a small wave and smiled at him.
"I was just passing by on business. It's been a while."
(end of chapter)