There was one thing Mike didn't guess wrong: Bullseye was indeed in the Continental Hotel suite. As a human, it's not an exaggeration to describe him as scum. But as a killer, aside from occasional bouts of insanity where he'd kill his employers, Bullseye was exceptionally good, so it was no surprise he had a Continental Hotel membership.
Bullseye didn't like the Continental Hotel; it had too many annoying rules. If he was in a bad mood and wanted to kill someone to relax, he couldn't.
Bad review!
After failing twice in a row, Bullseye felt a sense of crisis. The usual annoying rules, especially the strict secrecy regarding guests, actually made him feel secure.
Bullseye had killed super-powered individuals before. Some abilities were indeed quite formidable, but they lacked combat experience and were very unvigilant, like children holding large-caliber weapons, unable to unleash their full power.
Bullseye was irritable.
He had failed before; Mike wasn't the first. He had tried to assassinate Daredevil several times, but Matt was still alive and well. Despite his anger, Bullseye was actually a little excited, finally encountering a more 'playable' toy.
But Mike gave Bullseye a different feeling. The first shot hit, but Mike didn't die. Bullseye was about to follow up, and through the scope, Mike's calm gaze made his heart palpitate, as if saying, 'I found you.' Bullseye decisively retreated, and as his Harley motorcycle sped away, he felt a prickling sensation of a sharp edge at his back.
"I'm being watched."
At this moment, Bullseye felt like he had transformed from hunter to prey.
The second time, Bullseye received a commission to snipe Stark's assistant and was surprised to find Mike in the bodyguard team. He chose a location two kilometers away, subconsciously feeling that the further, the better.
Two missed shots meant the mission failed. Normally, Bullseye should have immediately retreated as planned. But then he saw Mike's eyes, not calm, but playful—successfully enraging Bullseye.
"I don't believe it, I don't believe it, there must be a flaw!"
Gritting his teeth, Bullseye fired two more shots, and then Mike's Water clone found him.
Relying on pre-set traps, Bullseye successfully escaped. Did the bomb kill Mike? Bullseye didn't think so; a bomb of that power probably couldn't kill someone who could withstand a sniper rifle. The exploded room was filled with thick smoke, but Bullseye felt Mike standing at the window, watching him leave. The worst part was that Bullseye wasn't masked this time, and his true face had been seen.
"Damn monster, he was in the exhibition hall a second ago, how could he appear two kilometers away the next moment? Instant transmission? Damn, damn! What exactly is his power!!!"
Bullseye cursed as he fled.
For the first few days, Bullseye felt groggy, constantly feeling someone at his bedside, then waking up in a cold sweat. Bullseye felt that if this continued, he would definitely suffer a nervous breakdown.
So he checked into the Continental Hotel.
Mike was downstairs, feeling quite troubled. If Bullseye was at the Continental Hotel, the simplest way to find him was to use Observation Haki. The problem was, stealth required using Momochi Zabuza.
To be efficient, he'd have to switch between Zoro and Momochi Zabuza, and each switch would cost twenty thousand U.S. dollars.
The power of money was overwhelming.
After some thought, Mike decided to save money. The downside was that it would be troublesome and prone to complications.
All the building's windows were fitted with solid steel bars and bulletproof glass, and cameras provided overlapping, blind-spot-free surveillance. Infiltrating from the outside would be difficult, first requiring a skilled hacker or... a superpower—shapeshifting should count as a superpower in Marvel, right?
Squatting in the darkness for over ten minutes, a service attendant finally couldn't resist his cigarette craving and ran to the back alley for a smoke.
"Move, and die!"
"Scream, and die!"
Mike silently appeared behind the service attendant, his kunai aimed at his carotid artery.
"Very good, you understand human speech. This is a good start. So, answer my questions well, and I hope there's a good outcome in the end."
"First, what's your name?"
"Jo, Jo. I'm just a hotel attendant. My wallet's in my pocket, there's some cash in it. Hey, brother, please don't hurt me, okay? I won't call the police, I promise, on my newborn daughter's name."
"Heh ~"
Mike applied a little more force to his hand, and the kunai pierced three millimeters, blood seeping out. "First, you don't have a daughter; you just want me to feel sympathy. Second, when you reached for your wallet, were you also trying to pull out the taser clipped to your waist? Tsk tsk, Continental Hotel attendants are indeed not ordinary..."
Jo: "You know the Continental Hotel, so you should know what kind of existence you've provoked. If I were you, I'd put down my weapon. You and I, we each turn and leave, as if nothing happened..."
Mike: "Jo, you're saying a bit too much, but it's useless. My next question is: Are you willing to die for the Continental Hotel? If you are, you just need to tilt your head, let the kunai pierce two more millimeters, and your carotid artery will burst like a fire hydrant, unstoppable. You will die, and then gain honor. If not, I'm afraid you'll have to tell me everything I want to know."
After a brief silence, Jo said, "I really don't have a daughter, but my girlfriend is pregnant..."
After that, Jo answered every question.
Mike knew, from his heartbeat, that Jo's answers contained both truth and falsehoods. It didn't matter; Mike didn't expect to fully understand the Continental Hotel through one attendant.
He knocked Jo unconscious with a hand chop, then searched him, finding a key card, a communicator, a taser, a mechanical baton, throwing knives... Finally, Mike used shapeshifting to transform into Jo.
Beep!
He swiped the key card, and the access control responded, but the door didn't open because manual verification was required.
"Hart, open the door quickly! You're not busy watching porn on the screen, are you, you idiot!"
Hart in the surveillance room was an old acquaintance of Jo. "Jo" looked at the camera and gave him the middle finger.
Beep!
Another sound, and the door opened.
"Jo" entered, straightened his clothes, and walked inside. Compared to the ubiquitous cameras outside the building, there weren't many cameras inside the hotel, and those that existed were well-hidden. After all, the residents were a group of assassins, and few were willing to show their faces on camera.
"Jo" took advantage of no one paying attention, went to the front desk, and searched for "Bullseye" in the guest records.
None!
After a moment's thought, Mike typed in "Lester"—Bullseye's real name, known to very few.
Found it!
Mike noted the room number and prepared to leave. Just then, the hotel manager, Winston, walked over.
"Hello, Mr. Winston." "Jo" bowed slightly.
"Good evening, Jo." Winston was polite, his demeanor and tone having a strong British flair. Some might find it very aristocratic, but Mike just found it awkward.
After taking two steps, Winston seemed to remember something, turned around, and a gun appeared in his hand, aimed at "Jo."
Was he exposed?