What?"
"The employer said they know it's sudden, but to show their sincerity, they really hope you take this job. They're willing to pay double the price."
"…Six hundred thousand?"
"No, eight hundred thousand. Plus the previous insured job, that's a total of one point two million."
"…"
Hawk fell silent.
Arthur Stacy?
He didn't know him.
But George Stacy?
That was Gwen's father.
And it was very likely that if no one interrupted his date with Gwen tonight, he might become his girlfriend's father tonight.
But…
Eight hundred thousand?
That was the equivalent of two regular jobs.
He was offering too much.
"I'll take it."
"…"
This time, it was Yekaterina's turn to fall silent.
"…What?"
"I said I'll take it."
"No."
The cigarette Yekaterina had just lit paused in her hand, and there was a hint of confusion in her tone: "Why?"
Good heavens.
One second, he was helping Gwen Stacy chop up the Butcher.
The next second?
He accepted the mission to kill her father without even thinking?
Hawk placed the steak on the dining table, got up, and walked towards the liquor cabinet behind the bar. He found an unopened bottle of bourbon, opened it, and said with a smile, "I thought you'd be happy for me to take it. But from your tone, I feel like you really don't want me to take this job."
Yekaterina extinguished the cigarette in her hand with one hand: "I just don't want you to do something foolish."
Hawk smiled.
"What do you think I'm going to do?"
"Take this job, but not carry it out."
"Would I?"
"I don't know, but I need to remind you, employers who break the rules will be taught a lesson by the Continental Hotel. Similarly, if an assassin breaks the rules, they will be hunted by all assassins."
"I rather hope so."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Hawk shook his head, downing the drink in his glass: "Don't worry, I keep business and personal matters very separate. My relationship with Gwen is personal. Killing George Stacy is purely business."
Yekaterina listened to the words coming from the phone, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, and pursed her lips: "Alright, as long as you know. This job, like Arthur Stacy's, the employer hopes to resolve both targets before next Monday. As for their information, I'll give it to you tomorrow morning."
"Thanks."
"No need. I'm your agent. I'll give you advice, but I won't make decisions for you."
"…"
With that said, Yekaterina hung up the phone.
Hawk took the phone away from his ear, looked at the gradually darkening screen, drained the second glass of bourbon he had poured, and then, the light in his eyes began to flicker.
The next day.
By the time Hawk changed into a brand new, unopened suit and came downstairs to the living room, the information Yekaterina had found was already sent to Hawk's overseas email address.
He opened it.
A young man, appearing to be in his twenties, unremarkable in appearance except for a somewhat strange skin color—neither truly White nor truly Black, but a greenish-White—instantly came into Hawk's view.
Alex Wylanck.
Hawk looked at the photo of the man, which gave him a somewhat peculiar feeling, noting the greenish-White complexion in the picture.
Another hybrid?
Alien hybrid?
He couldn't help it.
Now, every time Hawk saw green, he thought of the Butcher he had headshotted last night, and the green spots that had stained his arm and hadn't disappeared yet.
Since last night, Hawk had already elevated green to the same level in his mind as how he treated black.
Black and green should not exist in this World.
"Alex Wylanck, male, twenty-five years old, holds dual French and U.S. citizenship."
"One month ago, Alex Wylanck was arrested by the New York Police Department's Major Crimes Unit, led by Detective George Stacy, at Manhattan Port, on suspicion of intentional homicide, kidnapping, trafficking of Eastern European girls, and trafficking of prohibited drugs. He is currently detained at the New York Manhattan Prison, and Prosecutor Arthur Stacy will prosecute him on multiple charges."
"The one who placed the order with us is a man named Kodosh, but according to the information I found, this Alex Wylanck is the real employer who placed the order."
"Oh, right."
"Alex Wylanck's family owns Veranke Industries in Paris. I contacted my friends in Paris, and this rich second-generation also has many criminal records in Paris. It's said that he was arrested a few years ago, but I heard that people from the Palace of Versailles directly intervened to get him out. But my friend told me that this rumor isn't true; the order indeed came from the Palace of Versailles, but it didn't go through the Palace of Versailles. In short, there's something strange."
"…"
Hawk, sitting on the sofa, stroked his chin, flipping through the information Yekaterina had compiled, his eyes flickering slightly.
This was getting interesting.
So…
This Alex Wylanck held a grudge because Detective George Stacy arrested him and Prosecutor Arthur Stacy intended to prosecute him, which is why he placed the order?
No.
This guy was thinking that as long as Detective George Stacy, who arrested him, and Prosecutor Arthur Stacy, were dead, he could walk out safely on the day of the trial.
That must be it.
This was a common tactic for all villains, though not major ones.
If you can't solve the problem, but only solve the person who raised the problem, then the problem no longer exists.
He's a ruthless person.
Hawk couldn't help but chuckle, then received a text message from Yekaterina.
Just one sentence.
The full payment for these two urgent targets, totaling one point two million, had already been fully returned to the Gongrong Insurance escrow account. As soon as Hawk completed the mission and the employer confirmed, the full amount could be withdrawn.
"Alright."
Hawk looked at the text message, smiled, clicked delete, then closed the laptop in front of him, got up from the sofa, grabbed the suit jacket next to him, and walked towards the door: "Time to work!"
One thing at a time.
He couldn't not earn hard-earned money.
However…
After leaving his house, Hawk didn't drive the Chevrolet he had given Lorna last year from the garage. Instead, after putting on his jacket, he turned right, walked to his next-door neighbor's house, and knocked on the door.
Soon.
The door opened.
Hawk greeted Jane, who opened the door: "Good morning, Jane. Is John home?"
"In the backyard."
"Thank you."
Hawk politely nodded to Jane, John's wife of two years, then walked directly from the path outside the door to the backyard, where he saw John pushing a lawnmower: "Are the things I asked for ready?"
John, who was mowing the lawn, looked up: "…"