What is New York City like late at night?
Is Manhattan brightly lit?
Brooklyn ablaze with lights?
Queens eerily quiet?
Although most New Yorkers maintain the habit of going home as soon as night falls, this international metropolis still has its own unique nightlife.
Bars throughout Manhattan are a scene of wild revelry.
On empty streets, street racers roar past.
On a road near Morningside Park, a luxury car pulls up to the side of the street.
A scantily clad woman standing under a streetlamp smiles seductively, swaying her hips as she gets into the car.
Before the car even starts moving, she's already bent over.
In a nearby alley, three hippies, out on a rampage, stare wide-eyed, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Thump!
The fourth runner had just fled, but seeing his companion instantly killed, the loyal hippie ran back, thinking he could turn the tables.
He followed suit, falling alongside his companion to the still-sewage-covered ground.
Sewage splashed everywhere.
Just as the sewage was about to hit Hawke, Hawke took a step forward, instantly appearing at the alley's exit.
His nose twitched slightly, and without pausing, he walked across the street.
Across the street stood a six-story building with weathered exterior walls.
Standing below, Hawke looked up and fixed his gaze on a window on the left side of the third floor.
The voices of three people talking inside were remarkably clear.
"Shit, fuck, shit!"
"Stop cursing, I just found out, Roy's dead."
"Really?"
"Dead? She had to die, she had no choice. If she survived and found out her husband was dead, she'd definitely sell us off."
"Yeah."
"So what do we do now?"
"What else? Maybe we should just find an opportunity to stab her in the back. We'd get 500,000, enough for the three of us to split."
"Crazy! Why take 500,000 when we can get a million?"
"You're the crazy one. How can we get a million in this situation?"
"…"
Hawke listened to the three people's hushed conversation in the room, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Found it!
Hawke smiled slightly, then glanced at the drooping surveillance camera not far away, expressionless, and walked into the six-story apartment building.
He went straight up the stairs to the third floor and stood in front of a door.
The next second.
Push the door open!
Thump!
The deadbolt inside the room snapped, and the door opened instantly from the outside.
The three people who were talking, smoking, drinking and discussing their next move inside the house were startled when they heard the door open.
They then subconsciously stood up from the sofa and looked at Hawke who had pushed the door open and entered.
You'll never believe why I moved to.
And then nothing more.
The heads of two men, one black and one white, were severed, their headless corpses lying on the floor, blood spurting out.
The stench of blood instantly filled the air.
The only survivor lay paralyzed on the floor, staring in terror at the head that lay there, still displaying a bewildered expression.
He trembled with fear, forgetting to scream and forgetting to control his bladder.
The gurgling sound was clearly audible in the otherwise quiet room.
Hawke glanced at the white man, slumped on the floor, his face deathly pale.
"Hold it back!"
"Sizzle!"
The gurgling sound vanished instantly.
The white man shakily looked up at Hawke, his pale, bloodless lips trembling.
"Don't don't kill me."
"Name."
Hawke, while wiping his hands with a towel, glanced expressionlessly at the white man: "Who hired you?" Upon hearing this,the white man, still somewhat dazed, snapped back to reality.
The next second,a thought flashed through his mind.
"Don't tell!"
"If you don't tell, I might live."
"But if you do, I'm dead."
The white man was a criminal, not a fool.
As a criminal, no one understood better than him what happens when someone loses their value.
Now that his two companions were dead, his value became crucial.
So in a flash, the white man took a deep breath, his face no longer pale, his legs stopped trembling, and with confidence came courage.
Hawke looked at the white man, who had been trembling just a second ago, and now dared to look him in the eye, supporting himself on the floor, and his expression was somewhat surprised.
The white man stared at Hawke, sneering.
"Want to know who hired me? Fine, let me go, and I'll…"
"Pfft!"
Before he could finish speaking, the white man suddenly felt dizzy, and then saw a bizarre scene.
A headless, bleeding corpse standing on the floor.
Wait a minute.
Those clothes look so familiar.
Just as the white man was stunned, a sharp pain surged into his mind, followed by an endless darkness that swallowed him up.
Thump!
The headless corpse collapsed limply to the ground with a thud.
Hawke looked at the headless body and shook his head speechlessly.
A stupid idiot, worthy of a museum.
An hour later.
Hawke returned to his home on Palm Street.
In the living room.
Hawke took out the second cell phone Gwen had given him after Quantico and dialed the number, all the while looking at a driver's license in his hand.
Davin Simmons.
It was the license of that idiot who had just thought he had the right and the ability to negotiate with him—an idiot worthy of a museum.
The call connected quickly.
Anna's voice, tinged with surprise, came from the other end.
"Hawk!"
"Good evening, Anna, did I disturb you?"
"Good morning."
Anna, dressed in a lace nightgown, smiled as she drew back the curtains in her bedroom at a manor in Paris. "It's seven in the morning here in Paris."
Hawke understood, then cut to the chase without further ado.
"Check someone for me, mainly his bank account. See if there's a $100,000 deposit. If so, find out the remitter's information."
"No problem. Do you have a name?"
"Davin Simmons, from New York."
Hawke gave the name from the driver's license in his hand.
If Davin Simmons had said even a little less in the room, Hawke probably wouldn't have killed him.
But who could blame him for overhearing Davin Simmons mention downstairs that his employer had already allocated $100,000 for the operation?
An advance payment was all that mattered.
Even if Davin Simmons didn't say anything, he could simply check who had wired the money to Davin.
Anna, in Paris, jotted down the name in her notebook and replied,
"No problem, I'll have someone check. When do you need it?"
"The sooner the better."
"Okay, I'll let you know as soon as I have any news."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Anna smiled and waited until Hawke hung up before hanging up herself.
After Quantico, the organization had made an exception for Hawke, making him a must-win target, and because she was the first to contact him, her status had risen accordingly.
Just yesterday, she was thinking about what excuse to use to contact Hawke.
After all, relationships are built on contact; without contact, even the best relationships will fade.
But while she was still worrying about how to contact Hawke, he contacted her first.
"That's good,"
Anna thought to herself, then glanced at Davin Simmons' name on the handwritten note before picking up her phone again and making a call.
Since Hawke trusted her so much, she couldn't let him down.
The next day.
Hawke returned to school on the school bus.
Gwen didn't come.
The kidnapping that had happened yesterday meant that not only Gwen, but even her two younger brothers had taken leave from school and were staying home temporarily.
After all, it was safer to stay home until the kidnapping case was solved and the cause found.
When Gwen called in the morning to tell Hawke not to come pick her up, she also mentioned that George had spent the entire night at the Queens Precinct working on the attempted kidnapping case.
But Gwen didn't come; someone else did.
Mary Jane.
Mary, who seemed to have been waiting in the parking lot for a long time, lit up when she saw Hawke get off the school bus, and pulled Peter along as they ran over.
Mary's eyes gleamed with gossip as she bombarded him with a barrage of questions in a low voice: "Hawk, what happened? Kidnapping? Really? Who did it? Do you know?"
Hawk was taken aback by the machine-gun-like barrage of questions.
He looked at Peter without speaking, but his meaning was clear:
Your girlfriend, you need to control her.
Peter smiled sheepishly.
His meaning was equally simple.
Between him and Mary, Mary made the decisions on small matters, and he made the decisions on big matters, but whether something was big or not was up to Mary to decide. "
Damn it.
The spider demon has been completely reduced to a domesticated spider,"
Hawk thought to himself.
He had no choice but to step in himself.
He asked Mary curiously, "Didn't you and Peter take leave from school at the beginning? Don't you have to work today?"
Mary had taken leave from school as soon as it started.
Mary went to work at a restaurant.
Peter, on the other hand, returned to the Daily Bugle, earning prize money by taking selfies to save for his future university expenses.
Mary rolled her eyes. "Gwen's in such a mess, of course we have to come."
Hawke nodded, then quickly answered Mary's earlier question: "Okay, the kidnapping failed, the girl hasn't been found yet, Gwen's staying home for now. Anything else?"
Mary shook her head.
Hawke smiled slightly: "Sure, I'll go see the counselor first."
Never mind.
He'd get leave first, and after resolving Gwen's kidnapping case, he'd go straight to Africa.
Hawke's leave request encountered no obstacles; the counselor readily approved it.
With enough credits and a university, it was unlikely the counselor would refuse.
And the good news didn't stop there.
Just as Hawke left the counselor's office, his phone pinged.
It was from Anna.
Hawke opened the message, looked at the name Anna had sent, raised an eyebrow, and a phrase came to mind: "
Cut the weeds at the root.
Otherwise they'll spring back!
" ... "
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