Chapter 313: The Massacre
In the end, Leonard still went, only returning to his apartment the next morning, looking like he'd been put through the wringer. He bumped right into Ron, who was heading out for his morning run.
Ron waved to the exhausted Leonard: "Good morning, you slut~"
"What are you saying, Ron?"
"Please, I could tell at a glance. Your walk of shame says it all. I bet your underwear is crumpled up and stuffed in your bag, right? Just like Penny always does when she doesn't come home at night," Ron pointed to the small black leather bag Sheldon had given him the day before. "It's my fault. I should have asked Sheldon to get you a fresh pair of boxers."
"What happened?" Sheldon poked his head out of the apartment.
"Nothing, just passing by." Leonard hurriedly slipped into the apartment, not wanting to stay outside for even a moment longer, because he was afraid Penny would come out of the apartment too. Even though they had broken up, he still didn't want Penny to know about this.
"You just got back this morning?" Sheldon and Ron followed him into the apartment.
"Yes."
"That's a good sign, isn't it?" Sheldon asked uncertainly, turning back.
"Of course." Ron nodded with a smile. "Congratulations, Leonard."
"I'm so proud of you, Leonard!" Sheldon clapped his hands excitedly. "You sold your body like any other gigolo, but in return, you got valuable scientific equipment."
Leonard roared, half ashamed and half angry, "I'll say it again, I didn't do it for the money!"
"What? She bailed after she was done?!" Sheldon exclaimed in shock.
"No, I think Leonard is the one who bailed after he was done." Ron corrected Sheldon's mistake and looked at Leonard with concern. "Do you need me to help you collect your payment? Although our IRS doesn't offer this service, I'm willing to make an exception for you for the sake of our friendship."
"What do you mean?" Sheldon looked blank.
"This is all adult stuff. You'll understand when you grow up. To be specific, it's like the strip club Howard frequents..."
Seeing Ron's increasingly outlandish ramblings, Leonard quickly interrupted him: "No! That's not it. She gave me the donation check from the start."
"Smart. Taking the money first and then doing the job. I've discovered you really have the potential to be a male escort, Leonard," Sheldon nodded repeatedly in admiration.
Leonard swore that he had never received more praise from Sheldon since they met until today. You see, for someone who grew up being manipulated by his psychologist mother and suffered from a severe lack of self-acceptance, receiving praise was something he desperately wanted.
Especially since the praise came from the notoriously strict Sheldon. But the reason for the praise...
honestly, Leonard wished he had never been praised by Sheldon.
"What?" Leonard wanted to argue, but exhaustion overwhelmed him. After all, working out all night was physically demanding, and Leonard's small frame couldn't handle it. "Fine, whatever you say, I need to go rest for a bit."
Ron was right, Mrs. Latham was a very skilled woman.
Thinking of this, Leonard's expression became increasingly smug and lecherous. But before he could indulge in his reverie for long, Sheldon's next words shattered his daydream.
"That's a good idea. Conserve your energy. There are plenty of wealthy and thirsty cougars out there, and I just happen to need a new linear accelerator."
Sheldon also smiled smugly, his expression mirroring Leonard's. "I used to think he hadn't learned anything from his relationship with Penny."
However, the two were happy about different things. One was smug about Mrs. Latham's skills, while the other was smug about the upcoming scientific equipment. Considering Sheldon's special circumstances, it was hard to say who was more noble.
"Someone once said that love is the best teacher, and even the dullest person can learn something from it."
Sheldon nodded in deep agreement. He thought Ron was talking about Leonard, but actually, Ron was talking about Sheldon himself.
Sheldon himself might not have realized it, but Ron, as an observer, could see that Sheldon had visibly become more and more personable since he started dating Amy.
Maybe one day, Amy really could turn Sheldon, this cold robot, into a real person.
An hour later, after a short rest, Leonard, Sheldon, and Ron set off for school together. As soon as they entered the cafeteria, Leonard received a warm welcome from Principal Siebert.
"He's here! The man of the hour!" Principal Siebert shouted as he walked up to Leonard, putting his arm around his shoulder. "He sacrificed his personal dignity for the greater good, raising $5 million for the Physics Department!"
"I really didn't do it for the money!" Leonard argued loudly, but the applause drowned out his words, and only Principal Siebert next to him could hear what he said.
"This kind of rationalization isn't bad; at least it makes you feel better. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."
With that, Principal Siebert turned and left without looking back, probably to find a secluded corner to reminisce about his painful past. Meanwhile, the scientists from the Physics Department surrounded Leonard like a hero.
"Well done, buddy!"
"That's incredible!"
For a moment, Leonard truly felt like a hero.
However, this time, Ron didn't join in the commotion. His attention was drawn to a breaking news story on the cafeteria TV, especially one related to his experience the previous night.
"We spend an average of $2,000 a year on cell phones and internet, so I'm very pleased to announce that era is over."
On the television screen, Valentine, the philanthropist and telecommunications tycoon Ron and Harry had followed the day before, was speaking eloquently to the media:
"Because starting tomorrow, everyone, regardless of age or gender, can receive a free SIM card compatible with all cell phones and computers.
Anyone who's tired of paying through the nose can try my communication network for free—free calls, free internet, everyone can enjoy it and will always enjoy it..."
Valentine's speech was met with thunderous applause. Ron estimated that the enthusiasm at the press conference would be no less than Leonard's current welcome in the physics department cafeteria.
However, if this press conference had just happened, the enthusiasm would have far surpassed Leonard's.
That's right, this news wasn't current; it was just old news being rebroadcast.
In fact, several days ago, free SIM cards produced by Valentine's Company had already started being distributed. The four scientists, except for Sheldon, each received one. Howard was particularly enthusiastic, even dedicating his old phone to download adult films, running 24/7.
Ron scoffed at this: "Free calls, free internet, and compatible with all phones and computers—Sheldon, what do you think?"
"Of course it's a good thing, but I doubt its internet speed. If so many people can use it for free, someone like Howard will definitely be downloading porn day and night, hogging bandwidth. In reality, the service we get might be worse..."
Sheldon swallowed his food and began to complain, but this wasn't what Ron wanted to hear.
Ron was really thinking about Valentine's motives.
As a successful businessman, Ron didn't believe Valentine would do something that would lose money. This meant that the free SIM card giveaway plan he'd just announced at the press conference had to be profitable somehow.
But the problem was, as a tax official who dealt with all sorts of business giants and their endless tax disputes, Ron couldn't see where the profit margin was.
Based on his past experience, Ron deeply understood that things that seem free are often the most expensive. So... was he after all the users' privacy data?
Ron's pupils contracted. Logically, this answer made perfect sense, and since it involved everyone's data privacy, it was perfectly reasonable for the Tailor Shop to take action against him.
But Ron's intuition told him that this was definitely not as simple as it seemed.
Ring ring ring—the phone interrupted Ron's thoughts. Ron glanced at the caller ID, not wanting to answer.
But as soon as he hung up, his phone rang repeatedly, and Ron had no choice but to answer.
"Why aren't you skiing on the mountain? What are you calling me for, Hobbs?"
"Ron, where are you?" Hobbs' tone was grim. "Something terrible has happened. Just an hour ago, a massive massacre occurred at the Southwood Church in Kentucky. Over a hundred churchgoers were all slaughtered. It was done by a damn Englishman. I'm sending you photos now, take a look."
Southwood Church?
Ron muttered the name. He'd heard it more than once in the last 24 hours.
Sure enough, the photos Hobbs sent confirmed his suspicions. The person in the photos was none other than Harry, who had been tracking Valentine with him just yesterday.
Harry stood at the church entrance, a gun in one hand and the other hanging by his side, covered in blood. Behind him, the bodies of several churchgoers were faintly visible.
Although reliable intelligence suggested that the Southwood Church was a cult-like organization, this level of bloodshed was still excessive.
Ron's tone was somewhat serious as he got up and walked to a quiet spot outside the cafeteria. "Hobbs, are you sure you haven't made a mistake?"
"Of course not. The forensic team has already conducted a preliminary investigation of the scene. All the bullets in the victims came from the pistol he left at the scene. Ron, do you know this person?"
"He's definitely a professional. He's the agent from the Tailor Shop you mentioned. I was with him last night. Although it was the first day I met him, my gut tells me that this guy is definitely not the kind of bastard capable of committing a massacre. That's why I said your intelligence might be flawed."
Ron sighed. The situation was becoming increasingly confusing, and Ron had no doubt that he was once again embroiled in a major problem.
"Are you sure! These damn Brits are causing trouble on our turf! What are they trying to do?" Hobbs shouted indignantly, and Ron quickly moved his phone away.
"I'm afraid they have their own reasons. How's that Englishman? Has he been caught?"
"Not yet. He's too slippery. When our men arrived, he had just taken Mr. Valentine hostage, so we had to let him go..."
Ron frowned. This wasn't what he had expected.
Mycroft had initially informed him that this was a joint investigation by the British and American intelligence systems, which was why Ron had agreed to help.
But when it came to Hobbs, he was completely unaware of the intelligence on the British side. This didn't surprise Ron. As the head of the department, Hobbs couldn't possibly be unaware of intelligence cooperation, and Ron knew from their years of friendship that Hobbs wouldn't lie to him about something like this.
It seemed that there was only one possibility: the intelligence system on the American mainland had also been infiltrated, so...
Meanwhile, far away in England, Eggsy was sitting across from an old man codenamed Arthur, drinking.
Eggsy was originally a street punk, but because his father had saved Harry's life, he was specially recruited to the Tailor Shop for training, and even moved into Harry's house.
The news of Harry's "death" was most painful for him, so he came to Harry's direct superior to demand an explanation.
"This is Napoleon Brandy from 1815. We only drink it when a Kingsman agent is killed," the head of the agency said, pouring Eggsy a glass. "Harry admired you. This time, I think..."
The head of the agency continued with words of remembrance, but Eggsy couldn't hear anything. His attention was completely drawn to the scar behind the head of the agency's neck, identical to that of Valentine's secretary.
"Eggsy, are you listening?"
"Huh?" Eggsy snapped out of his reverie at the head of the agency's call. Seeing the head of the agency's suspicious gaze, he immediately had an idea. He pointed to the paintings on the wall: "I'm looking at those portraits. Are those Kingsman agents from the past?"
"Yes, those are the founders of Kingsman." The head of the agency followed his finger, and Eggsy, taking advantage of the head of the agency's momentary turn, quickly switched the two glasses of brandy.
The supervisor, oblivious to anything amiss, said, "Come on, have a drink with me, to Harry."
He raised his glass.
"To Harry," Eggsy replied, clinking glasses with him, and the two drank it down in one gulp.
Seeing the drink gone, a hint of smugness finally appeared on the supervisor's previously tense face. "You know what? Harry thought highly of you when he was alive. Perhaps I can nominate you to succeed him, as long as you and I reach a consensus on a few issues..."
(End of Chapter)
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