John, who lived next door to Hawk, was more than just a neighbor.
In fact, John was Hawk's guide on his path to becoming a killer.
Originally, after Hawk graduated, John had planned for him to join the Atlanta Killer Organization with him, but after some consideration, Hawk chose to work independently.
Don't ask.
If you ask, Hawk just likes freedom.
Soon.
John opened the refrigerator and retrieved what Hawk wanted: a bottle of reagent that was still cold after being taken out.
"Here."
"Thank you."
Hawk's eyes lit up as he looked at the reagent in John's hand, and he reached out to take it.
John did not let go.
Hawk blinked and looked at John.
John, who was handsome but not as handsome as Hawk, looked at the upward-gazing Hawk and simply smiled, "Aren't you going to pay?"
Hawk also smiled, "Do I still need to pay?"
John rolled his eyes, "Right now, this stuff costs two hundred ten thousand U.S. dollars per gram on the market. Do you think my money grows on trees?"
Hawk nodded, "Doesn't it?"
John: "..."
The commissions for John, who was part of an organization, and Hawk, who was not, were completely different, not to mention that John was a veteran killer who had been famous for many years.
For someone like John now, the minimum starting price for a single job was six hundred thousand U.S. dollars, and because he was part of an organization, things like preliminary intelligence and target vicinity defense were all handled by the organization.
In other words.
John only needed to pull the trigger, and a bullet costing less than five U.S. cents could bring him a minimum profit of six hundred thousand U.S. dollars.
Five U.S. cents.
Six hundred thousand U.S. dollars.
The profit margin here could no longer be described as one hundred percent; saying that money grew on trees was not an exaggeration at all.
"Get lost!"
Hearing Hawk's words, John shook his head and released the reagent in his hand, "Cost price is two hundred thousand. Remember to transfer the money, otherwise, you can buy it yourself."
Hawk took the reagent and, while it was still cold, put it into his pocket, "Alright, alright, two hundred thousand it is. If I wasn't pressed for time, would I even come to you?"
This was another benefit of having an organization backing you.
If you wanted something, you just told the organization, and they could get everything for you.
Unlike Hawk.
As a freelancer, while he was free, if he wanted some special items, he had to do everything himself, and sometimes he might not even be able to find a safe and affordable purchasing channel.
Just like the two grams of TTX toxin, also known as Fugu Toxin, that Hawk just put into his pocket.
If Hawk were to get it, not to mention whether he could find a safe purchasing channel, just in terms of time efficiency, he couldn't compare to John.
When Hawk came back last night, he told John about it, and in less than ten hours, the Fugu Toxin had already arrived, and it was even delivered to his doorstep.
Hawk patted his pocket and looked at John, "Sometimes, I really envy those with an organization."
John turned to close the refrigerator, "Have you thought it through? Want to join?"
Hawk shook his head, "No, I can't work for anyone, not in this lifetime."
Mainly, Hawk wasn't sure if the money earned within an organization counted as hard-earned money; what if it didn't?
Hawk was a relatively conservative person. It was like driving; if a road was drivable, then, unless absolutely necessary, Hawk was unwilling to change lanes, preferring to stick to one path until the end.
John turned to look at Hawk, who had just said that, feeling a bit teased, he took a deep breath and shook his head, "Alright, hurry up and go. I still need to mow the lawn. Don't let Jane find out."
Jane was someone he met at a hotel abroad two or three years ago.
It was love at first sight. After returning, they dated twice and then decided to get married.
However...
John had not told Jane about his profession. Again, being a killer sounded cool, but it was not a legitimate profession.
Moreover, Jane was very beautiful and worked in the IT industry.
Uh...
At least, that's what John thought, just as Jane thought John worked in civil engineering.
Hawk opened his mouth, wanting to tell John that when he celebrated his birthday last year, Jane jumped out of an armed helicopter, and an IT white-collar elite woman should not be associated with an armed helicopter.
However, seeing the immense happiness on John's face, Hawk chose to remain silent.
If someone was deluding themselves, it would be quite unethical to rush to expose them.
"Oh, right."
After leaving his studio with John, Hawk curiously looked at John, "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm going to do with this stuff?"
"No interest."
"Really?"
"Nonsense."
John locked the door behind him and glanced at Hawk, "The day after you graduated and bought the house next door, I knew this day would come sooner or later. But I'm warning you, if you're going to play with Fugu Toxin, don't mess yourself up. Once the employer reacts and files a complaint, and a continental wanted order comes down, don't blame me for not valuing our years of friendship."
Hawk blinked and smiled, "Don't worry, the employer definitely won't complain. I guarantee they'll give me a ten-star good review."
It was like a food delivery order.
After the order was completed, if the customer did not operate the evaluation for a long time, the system would default to a ten-star good review.
So, the question was.
How could the customer not operate the evaluation for a long time after the order was completed?
Simple.
Just kill him, wouldn't that do it?
Being a killer also required flexibility.
Generally speaking, Hawk, in principle, did not accept orders involving law enforcement personnel from federal or regional systems, because it was easy to stir up a hornet's nest if he wasn't careful.
But there was no way around it; this time, the other party offered him too much.
Alright.
The main reason was that this target was a bit of a dilemma for Hawk.
Actually, an Arthur Stacy was irrelevant; Hawk didn't know this Arthur Stacy anyway, but the order that was suddenly added this morning for someone named George Stacy was tricky.
After all, George Stacy had a daughter named Gwen.
The Gwen whom Hawk had just protected last night.
However...
The employer's mission requirement this time was only for Arthur Stacy and George Stacy to die, but the employer did not specify how long these two targets needed to be dead for.
Wasn't there room for maneuver in that?
Playing dead was also a form of death.
Hawk thought to himself, looked at the time on his wristwatch, and then said to John, "Alright, I'm leaving now. Goodbye, John."
He was still missing something and needed to get it from another place.
And at the same time.
In Arthur Stacy's apartment, a certain detective had already obtained information about Hawk.
No.
It was information about both the killer Hawk and the killer Butcher.