"Boom!!"
Under the bombardment of the rocket launcher, a violent explosion rocked the top floor. Flames surged, engulfing Amick and his men before they even had time to raise their guns.
With Robert's assistance, Mindy launched several more rockets toward the office. The entire floor trembled under the continuous detonations. Once they were sure the job was done, the two packed the bazooka into a bag and quickly disappeared from the rooftop.
"That was awesome! Definitely the coolest thing I've ever done!"
Mindy shouted excitedly as she ran, as if she'd just discovered an entirely new world of possibilities. Back when she and Big Daddy fought Amick's underlings, it had always been one level at a time, like playing a boss-rush video game.
Now, with Robert's help, she skipped all the mini-bosses and went straight to the final boss's lair. The sheer efficiency was mind-blowing.
Still, she couldn't help asking, "Are we sure this counts as an assassination? It feels a little... explosive."
"What are you talking about?" Robert said seriously. "Of course it's an assassination. Did anyone survive to identify us?"
"No…"
Mindy thought about it. Between the explosions, flames, and structural collapse, it was doubtful there was anything left of Amick's crew—maybe not even dust. They'd skipped the funeral and gone straight to cremation.
"Exactly," Robert nodded. "No witnesses, no trace. That's what I call a textbook perfect assassination."
Mindy's eyes lit up. "So that's what real assassination is about—killing everyone!"
By the time they reached the building's ground floor, sirens howled in the distance. Calmly, Robert approached a sleek black motorcycle he'd stashed nearby, straddled the seat, and turned back to Mindy.
"Hop on. And hold tight. I might go a little fast."
Mindy smirked, full of confidence. "Please. If my legs were longer, I'd be riding myself. No speed can scare me. Bring it on!"
"Cool. Just so you know, this is my second time riding one of these."
"...Wait, what?"
Robert twisted the throttle, and the bike rocketed forward like a missile.
"Ahhhhhhh!"
Back at Sister Margaret's bar.
"Five million has been deposited. Employer left a four-star review," Weasel said, flicking through a black card before sliding the funds into Robert's account.
Robert frowned. "Four? Why not five?"
"Apparently your driving was too good, so she deducted a star."
He blinked. "She deducted a star for being too good? What logic is that?"
Still, as Robert checked his account, his frustration eased. Five million dollars richer, and finally—finally—he could afford at least a pair of custom steel gloves. Not quite the full Iron Man set, but a solid start.
"Weasel, give me every high-paying job in New York. I'm going to sweep every dungeon this city has!"
"Whoa there, cowboy. Someone's here looking for you."
Weasel nodded toward a figure seated in the corner of the bar.
"Looking for me?"
Robert raised a brow. Could it be his reputation as "Sister Margaret's Top Gun" was already making waves?
Grabbing his oversized soda, Robert approached the corner.
"We meet again, Doctor."
Robert's brows shot up. It was Matt—aka Daredevil.
"Lawyer Ma! I'm off priest duty today. You'll need to make an appointment."
Matt stiffened, the name triggering uncomfortable memories.
"How did you find me?"
"You're not hard to track if one knows where to listen."
Robert grimaced. Of course, the super-hearing. Sneaky bastard.
"Mr. Robert," Matt said in his usual calm tone. "I know your real occupation now. You're a mercenary."
Robert didn't flinch. "Actually, I'm still primarily a priest. The church is on summer break, so I'm just doing part-time mercenary work."
Matt paused, clearly unamused.
After a breath, he said something unexpected.
"I'd like to hire you."
"Wait, what?" Robert was caught off guard. "You want to commission me?"
"Yes. I need your help… to save someone."
"Ah, your mistress!" Robert exclaimed dramatically.
Matt choked. "She's not—! I mean—We were college classmates, okay?"
He quickly clarified, wary of Robert throwing in another wild comment.
"She came to me for help with a criminal group. I didn't agree at first, but when I dug deeper, I realized she was dealing with an entire underground ninja organization—trained killers. I couldn't leave her alone in that."
Matt stopped talking abruptly, realizing he may have revealed too much.
Across from him, Robert slurped loudly on his soda, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.
"Why'd you stop? It was just getting good," he said innocently. "Careful, Matt. Cliffhangers cost extra."
Matt exhaled slowly.
He was starting to regret ever walking into this bar.
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