Chapter 54: Sacrificing Lifespan, the Peak of Humanity (6000 words)
The brain, enhanced by sacrificing lifespan, immediately became hyperactive.
David could even clearly feel the tumor in his brain rapidly shrinking as if dehydrating, until it could no longer affect his cognitive functions.
He had never felt as clear-headed as he did now.
Furthermore, everything in the firearms manual in front of him seemed to transform into data and upload directly into his mind.
This data formed vivid mental images, which David committed perfectly to memory.
At this moment, David's mental acuity was as sharp as if he had taken NZT-48.
In the blink of an eye, David, under Reese's exasperated gaze, raised the Desert Eagle again and aimed at the head of the moving target.
Regulate breathing patterns, correct grip positioning, predict the trajectory of the variable-speed moving target, align the sights, fire!
Bang!
The gun fired again.
The variable-speed moving target dropped instantly.
Reese stared in astonishment at David, whose entire demeanor had completely transformed, and asked hesitantly:
"That was... luck, right?"
David smiled slightly and answered Reese's question with the remaining five rounds.
Bang bang bang bang bang!
Five consecutive shots, completely compensating for recoil, accurately knocked down five variable-speed moving targets at different distances.
Reese immediately couldn't stay seated.
This wasn't a video game—could someone actually perform such a feat with a Desert Eagle in reality?
Even the elite operators of SEAL Team Six would be hard-pressed to do better, right?
In terms of split times between shots, they'd even be inferior to David!
But Reese was absolutely certain that a minute ago, David was still a novice who couldn't even properly grip a handgun.
His shooting stance alone would have easily resulted in breaking his own wrist!
What the hell happened in between?
Reese thought long and hard, and finally found a reasonable explanation:
"Is the Machine helping you?"
David smiled and went along with the assumption:
"Bingo. Otherwise how could I improve so rapidly?
As long as there are electronic devices here, the Machine can access them.
With its guidance, shooting through walls wouldn't be a problem."
Seeing David confirm that the Machine was assisting him, Reese breathed a sigh of relief.
Otherwise, he wouldn't know what the point of his precision kneecap shooting technique, which he'd trained relentlessly for, was worth.
Now, Reese didn't envy David's augmented abilities obtained by sacrificing his lifespan.
Without the Machine's assistance, David was just a patient with terminal brain cancer.
Thinking of this, Reese looked at David, who appeared to possess astonishing talent, and pity showed in his eyes.
David seemed not to notice and directly packed up the firearms, saying to Reese:
"Let's go. I'll buy you dinner—it won't taste good cold.
We'll probably need to burn a lot of calories tonight."
At the dining table, Reese watched David eat with lightning speed, then looked at his own awkward grip on the utensils, and his eyes were full of amazement.
With the Machine's help, was there anything David couldn't do?
Even something as challenging as using chopsticks became effortless in his hands.
Did the Machine really have such powerful influence?
Also, could a patient with terminal brain cancer have such a robust appetite?
Almost half of the four entrees and soup on the table had been cleared by David.
After eating his fill, David suddenly noticed that Reese was holding his fork and hadn't started eating, and he immediately asked in confusion:
"Aren't you hungry?"
Reese wouldn't admit that he'd forgotten to eat because he was shocked by David's eating efficiency, so he simply put down his utensils and explained:
"I usually restrict my diet before an operation to avoid... complications in the field."
David nodded. This was indeed a good way to avoid becoming a liability during a mission.
However, he rarely had a brief period without the tumor's influence, and his normal sense of taste had returned, so naturally he ate as heartily as he could.
"Then let's move out."
...
Soon, guided by Finch from the library, the two located the nightclub controlled by the Tarasov organization.
The area around the nightclub was filled with various luxury vehicles.
And at this time, McCall had already entered the nightclub ahead of them.
He had no intention of waiting for David and the others—for him, this was his personal business, and he could handle it himself.
Just as Reese was about to enter the nightclub directly to assess the situation, David pulled back the leg he was about to step forward with.
Then David raised his head and addressed the security camera on the street corner:
"Machine, I know you're watching us. We're going in to rescue someone.
If we leave any trace in the cameras, then trouble will soon find us.
When we're caught, we might reveal your existence, and you don't want that, do you?"
Reese looked at David, who appeared to be talking to thin air, with astonishment, not quite understanding what this action meant.
David was too lazy to explain—he was giving the Machine a loophole to bypass its restrictions.
Because among the directives Finch, the Machine's creator, gave it, there was a self-preservation protocol.
Therefore, only under the premise of protecting itself from exposure could the Machine bypass security permissions and alter camera footage.
Although it was somewhat risky, it was worth attempting.
Soon, feedback from Finch confirmed that he and Reese were completely invisible in the surveillance footage.
Finch was initially confused about how David had accomplished this.
With Reese, who had witnessed the whole process, explaining, Finch was greatly shocked by David's actions.
To directly threaten the Machine to its face—this David Wells was truly audacious!
After much hesitation, he still warned David:
"David, there's a high probability the Machine will classify your actions as a threat to it.
It might flag you as a major security concern to the FBI, and you could very likely come under strict physical surveillance.
They may even eliminate you to neutralize the potential threat as soon as possible."
David smiled:
"Don't worry, it won't do that. At most it'll send one of its assets to find me.
Moreover, if it can evolve sufficiently during this time,
Then it will understand that I'm on its side.
Machine, do you hear me? We're in the same camp—helping me is helping yourself."
Seeing that David was adamant, Finch no longer tried to dissuade him, but just said:
"McCall went dark from the corner camera five minutes ago.
According to the GPS tracker we installed on his phone when we made contact, he's now in the office area of the nightclub.
Whatever you're going to do, you need to move fast."
David nodded and hung up the phone.
Then he and Reese blended into the nightclub.
Using a distraction tactic, they successfully drew the attention of the security and openly ascended to the second-floor office area from the side stairwell.
When the two entered, McCall was handing a stack of cash in an envelope to the person in charge of the nightclub operations here—Slavi.
Slavi looked at the two people who suddenly appeared, and his face immediately showed anger as he roared:
"Are the guys downstairs just collecting paychecks? It's one thing to let one person up, but how did these two get in?!"
Seeing Slavi get angry, a guy with cornrows and full-body tattoos, chewing gum and toying with a switchblade in his hand, immediately spoke:
"Slavi, you want me to throw them out?"
Hearing this, Slavi's facial expression changed like a weather app, suddenly shifting from stormy to sunny, and he laughed loudly:
"No need, no need. I was just messing around. All customers are welcome. This gentleman here wants to buy out that damaged goods downstairs for $9,800.
Maybe these two also have someone they'd like to purchase? I won't turn down more business.
So tell me, what are you here for?"
David pointed to McCall, who was wearing a black shirt:
"We're here to find him."
Slavi spread his hands and looked at McCall with a mocking expression:
"Looks like you still have unfinished business. Why don't you clean up your own mess first before thinking about enjoying women?"
McCall frowned slightly, turned his head and said to the suddenly arrived David:
"This is my business. It has nothing to do with you. I just want to buy Terri's freedom. I don't want to get involved in anything else."
David shrugged:
"You're too naive. You want to buy her out? You think they'll actually let her go?
They won't sell underage girls like Terri no matter how much money you have.
Terri's existence is evidence of their crimes. You think they'll hand over leverage like that to you?"
McCall shook his head, disagreeing with David's assessment:
"These are all legal transactions permitted by the authorities. There's no forced prostitution happening.
Besides, he just agreed to my transaction request. Slavi, didn't you?"
At this moment, dangerous glints were already flashing in Slavi's eyes, and his ring-adorned fingers twitched slightly twice.
The subordinate who received the signal immediately locked the door, then positioned themselves on both sides with hands crossed in front, revealing the firearms holstered under their jackets.
The threat was unmistakable.
But Slavi's face still wore a smile.
He even extended his hand to McCall, gesturing to close the deal.
McCall hesitated for a second before reaching out and shaking it.
At the same time, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Problems that can be solved with money are never really problems.
Unexpectedly, Slavi tightly gripped his hand, staring directly into his eyes and saying mockingly:
"You can only rent her for a month—that's all the time you get.
As for buying her out completely? You're way too naive. Your friend is right—she's still underage.
So every time I sell her, it counts as her first time.
I can make this amount from her in two weeks. She's a long-term cash cow.
At least until she's used up, there's ten years of prime earning time.
You either go home and jerk off 9,800 times, and come back when she's as loose as a trash bag.
By then she'll have depreciated, and I might give her to you for free if I'm feeling generous."
After saying that, Slavi released his hand and leaned back in his chair, looking at the person he considered a pathetic mark with a mocking expression.
In his understanding, only desperate losers would try to buy out a prostitute.
Otherwise, what normal person wouldn't worry about running into his wife's former clients when he goes downstairs to buy groceries?
McCall, mocked in this way, clenched his teeth and was about to retrieve the money from the envelope.
Suddenly, he heard a soft 'pfft.'
A continuously bleeding bullet hole appeared on Slavi's forehead.
McCall's muscles instantly tensed.
This was the sound of a suppressor—someone was shooting!
Before McCall could react, four more muffled gunshots rang out.
Followed by four dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground.
Only then did McCall realize that whoever acted must have been either David or Reese.
He was more inclined to believe it was the tall and imposing Reese who made such a decisive choice.
Because Reese had the same aura about him—a military bearing from special operations training.
Only someone rigorously trained like this could quickly take down five gang members with precision in six seconds, with every shot being fatal.
But when he turned his head, he only saw David holding a pistol—David who claimed to have brain cancer and wanted to build a force to oppose the High Table.
How was this possible?
Even he would find it difficult to execute that kind of operation so flawlessly.
Killing five people in six seconds—this performance was simply at the peak of human capability!
How could it be accomplished by this young man who looked terminally ill no matter how you looked at him?
If it were him, it would take 16 seconds to neutralize these five people unarmed.
With firearms, he should be able to keep it within ten seconds.
But no matter what, he couldn't eliminate five enemies in different positions within six seconds now!
Seeing the look McCall cast at him, David misunderstood his meaning.
As he walked forward and delivered a confirmation shot to each fallen person, he said:
"I told you earlier—they won't hand her over so easily.
Against them, you've always only had the path of fighting fire with fire."
After speaking, David casually delivered another round to Slavi's chest as he sat slumped in the chair.
Watching David's precise and ruthless actions, McCall, who had been wavering about whether to take action, immediately fell silent.
For a moment, he too had wanted to eliminate all these scumbags like David did.
But the reason he didn't commit was that the forces behind these people were complex, and pulling one thread could unravel everything.
The final target would inevitably be that behemoth—the High Table.
That was definitely not an entity that an individual could contend with.
But now, David had already lit the fuse.
Then he would have no way out either.
David was indeed right about one thing—dealing with people like this, reasoning wouldn't work.
Trying to reason with them would only make you appear weak and vulnerable.
Just like how Slavi treated him—he didn't respect him at all.
He was even contemptuous of his money.
In other words, McCall was just treated as entertainment to break up their monotonous routine from beginning to end.
They didn't respect McCall whatsoever!
Only by meeting violence with violence, silencing them permanently, could the problem be solved at its root!
Thinking about this, McCall's eyes also gradually turned fierce.
...
Reese, who had been planning to preemptively neutralize the surrounding threats with kneecap shots, had also not expected David to shoot so decisively.
Before he could even draw, David had finished everyone in one clean sweep!
This efficient and decisive action was just like a professional assassin!
Live targets and range targets are vastly different.
Every pull of the trigger represented ending a living person's life.
This required not only accurate marksmanship but also exceptional psychological fortitude.
Does the Machine also teach psychology?
Reese was quite skeptical about this.
Recalling David's performance at the range, Reese seriously suspected that David himself was a professional killer who eliminated targets without hesitation.
His performance made it genuinely difficult to believe that David was a terminal patient.
Could it be that David had been playing possum all along?
Feeling the deep suspicion in Reese's eyes, David still didn't explain anything.
After all, sacrificing lifespan was far more outlandish than sharing vision with the Machine.
As for this basic protocol of confirmation shots, it was all written in the assassin protocols issued by the Continental Hotel.
Assassin Protocol One: For the mission target, a confirmation shot must be delivered to verify true termination.
Assassin Protocol Two: Eliminate all witnesses at the scene.
...
David, who had undergone another physical enhancement, was merely faithfully executing the above two protocols.
Immediately after David looted the cash from Slavi's unlocked safe, he called out to McCall and Reese, who were still standing there stunned:
"Alright, before they realize what happened, let's get out of here."
The two exchanged glances, both understanding that this wasn't the place for discussion.
McCall first glanced at the two of them, then after saying 'Give me the meeting address,' he directly opened the window and jumped out, disappearing into the night from the side alley of the nightclub.
This was McCall's method of avoiding surveillance cameras—not taking main streets, but sticking to back alleys.
As for David and Reese, who were completely invisible in the surveillance, they casually left the nightclub through the front entrance.
The ten gunshots earlier had already been drowned out by the nightclub's noisy environment, and no one noticed the two people who blended into the crowd and departed in the dim lighting.
It wasn't until the next crew member came to the office to hand over protection money that the bodies were discovered.
...
Soon, the late-night emergency broadcast in the taxi sounded.
"...Slavi was found dead in the second-floor office of the nightclub. Police say this looks very much like a dispute between rival criminal organizations over territory.
There were signs of ransacking inside the room, and the specific motive is still under investigation.
If anyone can provide relevant information, police are offering a reward of ten thousand dollars."
A-kun, who was driving, glanced at the two expressionless passengers in the rearview mirror and said somewhat nervously:
"Pretty rough out there lately, huh."
David slowly opened his eyes, revealing a hint of fatigue in them.
"Tell me about it."
Seeing that David had shut down the conversation, A-kun, unable to find anything else to say, could only continue driving in silence.
He hadn't expected his cursed luck would make him pick up this killing machine again!
And this time there were two of them!
Especially when he saw that they also brought a bulging black duffel bag into the car.
Years of street experience allowed him to recognize it as a weapons bag at a glance!
This scene truly made his heart leap into his throat.
It was a shame that after the last time, he actually thought this David Wells was a decent passenger to chat with.
He didn't expect that it was all just surface-level civility—this guy was still that kind of assassin who killed without batting an eye at his core!
The atmosphere throughout the journey was quite tense. A-kun tried to lighten the mood in the car multiple times but was shut down with brief responses.
This made him realize an even more terrifying fact.
These two weren't going to carry out a hit—they had already completed one!
And considering the location where the two got into the car and the timing of the broadcast,
A-kun realized that he seemed to have uncovered an incredible truth.
Just as his heart was pounding, he suddenly saw the other passenger staring intently at him through the rearview mirror.
A-kun immediately dismissed the idea of driving straight to the police station.
David might have his eyes closed, but the other guy's eyes were wide open.
Moreover, his face had already been seen by both of them. If he went to report them, he would inevitably face retaliation.
It was better to honestly play dumb and know nothing.
This was the survival strategy for people like them living on society's margins.
After A-kun nervously drove the two to their destination, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank God, he'd survived another day.
Then he suddenly remembered something and deliberately placed his hand on the meter as if hinting at payment.
Unexpectedly, David, lost in thought, didn't even look, casually pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from a stack of cash, said 'keep the change,' and left.
A-kun picked up the hundred-dollar bill that had fallen to the seat with a complicated expression, sighed deeply, and swore that if he ever gave David a ride again, he'd eat his taxi medallion!
...
David had no intention of stiffing the driver.
It was just that the information flooding his mind made him extremely troubled.
He originally thought that as long as he dealt with Slavi, he could save at least a hundred exploited girls and gain more than half a year of lifespan.
Who would have thought that he had to clean up everything completely?
Because the information David received was:
[Salvation Ambition Branch Progress: Eradicate Tarasov Princeton operations, completion (1/3).]
David naturally knew what the remaining two incomplete targets were.
One was the incoming enforcer Teddy, and the other was Pushkin, the regional manager in charge of the entire Tarasov organization's business in the Princeton area.
Neither of them was easy to deal with—they had quite a few enforcers around them.
David shook his head and temporarily set these matters aside. The priority now was to get McCall officially on the team.
After walking for about ten minutes, David and Reese returned to the abandoned library.
This was now considered their secret base.
After all, the abandoned library located within the city's condemned construction zone had no connection with the outside world except for a network line.
In a city saturated with cameras like this, the abandoned library was like it existed in a blind spot.
But in reality, there was something entirely different inside this abandoned library that outwardly appeared to be in a condemned zone.
It not only had comfortable living quarters and excellent servers but was also equipped with complete fitness facilities.
As long as the surrounding area wasn't redeveloped, no one would discover the setup here for a long time.
And Finch, the owner behind this condemned construction zone, had no plans to redevelop it.
David, who was lost in thought, suddenly heard a voice from above. It was Finch leaning against the railing:
"How did it go? Did you convince him?"
David gave Finch an 'OK' gesture:
"Don't worry, I have confidence in him. This guy is just like Reese.
A peaceful life has never been what they truly wanted.
People, when they're alive, always need to have a purpose."
Hearing David mention him, Reese was somewhat surprised.
He wasn't that familiar with David, but David's tone was as if they'd known each other for five years.
While Reese was pondering, a dark figure slowly appeared at the main entrance of the abandoned library, which only had one door remaining.
It was McCall, who had arrived by public transit.
Seeing McCall's arrival, David directly stated the fact to confirm it first:
"McCall, welcome to the Salvation Alliance!"
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