"A certain someone who is scheduled to arrive today..."
"Who exactly?"
Detective Kaynor frowned slightly, looking at Cop who carried a deeply furrowed brow beside her.
Cop felt a strong urge to slap himself. "George!"
"...Isn't George your close friend?"
"No!" Cop shook his head. "When I boasted grandly, claiming I would definitely secure the Peerless Assassin for him, only to fail to secure anything—once he lands and discovers this reality, we won't be friends anymore."
Detective Kaynor laughed. "Then couldn't you just call him directly?"
Cop drew out his phone, which had already dialed the number over a dozen times without a single response. "Do you genuinely believe I haven't? The moment that damn witch took flight and departed, I placed a call. But the bastard is already on the plane."
Kaynor: "..."
This fundamentally involved the Peerless Assassin after all. George, who had sworn a solemn oath two years ago to bring the Peerless Assassin to justice, could not possibly remain indifferent upon learning that an accomplice had surfaced here.
Cop was already deliberating whether he should request time off to go hide out somewhere for a couple of days.
Faced with the impending arrival of his close friend, who could be fully expected to unleash a wild torrent of complaints at him, frankly speaking, the visual impact delivered by the skeletal lakebed right before his eyes had completely ceased to faze him.
In reality. Cop remained entirely unaware of another factor.
That was. Today... happened to be the exact date the Dolan Church headquarters in New York intended to travel over here, purposing to join forces with the New Orleans faction to share in a grand celebration.
*Whir!*
Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport!
Up in the air!
*Ding-dong!*
"Respected passengers, our aircraft is about to land..."
The flight—originating from New York's JFK Airport as the earliest available itinerary at five in the morning—had currently arrived over the New Orleans International Airport. It circled dynamically, seeking a proper angle before preparing to drop onto the runway with lightning speed.
A brief moment later.
*Thud!*
Amidst a world of drifting snow, the aircraft's wheels touched down steadily onto the runway with a heavy thud, subsequently roaring dynamically as it commenced its deceleration.
Seated inside the cabin, twelve stoic, unsmiling male descendants of the Dolan Crusaders dressed in black suits, along with two Grimm Hunters traveling from the Portland region to provide reinforcement, opened their eyes simultaneously with a sharp rustle.
In the rows behind them.
Occupying a window seat while clad in a pink down jacket, her hair tied into a long ponytail, Gwen unbuckled her seatbelt. Staring out at the snowy landscape, she stretched her arms.
Although she had only slept for a handful of hours, having awoken at four in the morning to pack her belongings, Gwen carried absolutely no traces of drowsiness, speaking with a hint of delight.
"I'll be able to see Locke very soon."
Sitting beside her with his arms crossed, wearing a cartoon sleep mask while enduring a slight lack of sleep, George let out a heavy sigh upon hearing his daughter, who hadn't stopped talking about Locke and a grand surprise ever since they boarded the aircraft.
Right at that moment.
*Clink!*
George caught the metallic sound of an object striking the floor. Driven by professional habit operating like a targeting radar, his gaze locked sharply onto a metal object closely resembling a screwdriver in the aisle ahead.
A descendant of the Crusaders clad in a black suit bent down, retrieving the screwdriver from the floor. The moment he picked it up, he seemingly perceived that someone was observing him, turning his torso around to look back.
Their eyes locked.
George stared at the man who had stood up and was looking at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. The instincts cultivated across years of service as a police officer informed him that this man was an individual carrying a history—specifically, the kind of history that intersected with the law.
Observing the visibly alert George, the man slowly retracted his gaze.
"Dad?"
"Mm." George snapped back to reality, looking at Gwen beside him. "What is it?"
Gwen stared at the transparent downy hairs standing upright across her palms, her brow furrowed slightly as she observed the man who was slowly sitting back down. She lowered her voice.
"That man feels somewhat dangerous."
George cast a swift glance at the group, noting, "Once we link up, I'll have Cop run a background check."
Gwen offered an affirmative murmur. The exact instant that man had turned around to look at George, Gwen suddenly felt the hairs on her palms stand completely on end.
Subsequently, her heart skipped a beat, carrying the distinct sensation of being targeted by something, which left her profoundly uncomfortable.
The last time she experienced this precise sensation was back in Long Island. Specifically, when that hitman was pursuing her and Locke from behind.
As for when this sensation had first manifested? Gwen pondered briefly; it seemed to have cropped up precisely during that period when they traveled to Long Island.
Very swiftly. The aircraft taxied steadily to a halt beside the jet bridge.
Half an hour later.
The twelve descendants of the Crusaders who had rushed to New Orleans to share in the grand celebration with the local Dolan Church, plus the two Grimm Hunters, stood within the airport parking lot, trading blank looks as they surveyed the surroundings.
"Did we arrive at the wrong location?"
"That's impossible!"
"The timing is exactly right, and the location matches perfectly."
"Huh?"
"Didn't the local Dolan Church state they had already arranged a fleet of vehicles?"
"Where are the cars?"
"No idea."
"Place a call."
"I'm dialing right now."
Listening to the flat busy tone blouing through the receiver, a descendant of the Crusaders blinked his eyes, looking toward the group with a hint of bewilderment. "No answer?"
Hearing this, the others couldn't resist looking toward the colleague placing the call. Observing his bewildered expression as he gripped the phone, they were left somewhat dumbfounded.
WTF? They were stood up? What exactly was the situation?
"What?"
"Say that again, damn it!"
"Dad, language! Watch your language!"
The twelve descendants of the Crusaders and the two Grimm Hunters turned their torsos around. Emerging from the airport terminal building behind them was a pair of father and daughter.
George pushed the luggage with one hand while gripping his phone with the other, his rage surging dynamically as he unleashed a wild torrent of complaints toward Cop on the line.
"I don't give a damn about any Dolan Church! I traveled all this way on the earliest flight, and the moment I step off the aircraft, you inform me that you let the Dark Sovereign slip right through your fingers?!"
Dolan Church? Dark Sovereign?
The twelve descendants of the Crusaders instantly became highly alert. The Dolan Church was precisely them, whereas the Dark Sovereign happened to be the exact target their New York faction had been continuously tracking down lately. How did this individual know about this?
Hearing her father's booming voice, Gwen spoke helplessly, "Dad, didn't you also fail to capture the Peerless Assassin yourself?"
George's fury was instantly extinguished.
The twelve descendants of the Crusaders traded looks. Listening to the dialogue between Gwen and George not far away, a descendant drew out his phone, pulling up the profile he had located by capturing a quick photograph of George just now.
New York Police Department's Captain.
Sworn to bring the Peerless Assassin to justice!
Entangled in a continuous game of cat-and-mouse with the Peerless Assassin.
George Stacy!
A succession of news reports concerning George and the Peerless Assassin instantly loaded onto the screen.
The men experienced a sudden epiphany. Exchanging glances, they chose to grab their luggage and walked expressionlessly out into the drifting snow.
There's a cop here, retreat! Their line of work was filled with absolute righteousness, yet they were inherently incompatible with cops. After all, the cops had no inkling of how dangerous their path truly was; they would only chatter incessantly!
Gwen fixed her gaze onto the fourteen individuals who were quietly turning to depart. Drawing out her phone, she captured a succession of quick photographs, documenting the appearances of several turning Crusaders.
'Keep their appearances on file, then hand them over to Aunt Beckett later so she can help run a check.' Gwen thought as much in her heart.
Over on the other end, George had also concluded his call. And subsequently...
"Shit!"
"...Dad."
"My apologies."
George voiced an apology for his crude language, before sighing heavily. "A completely wasted trip. The Dark Sovereign has already fled."
Gwen shrugged. "Not entirely. Locke is still here."
George rolled his eyes. "You came here to locate Locke. I only came because the Peerless Assassin might have been present. If I had known Cop was this unreliable, I wouldn't have come."
Gwen was left speechless. "Dad, that was a witch. You are an ordinary human; you must recognize reality. If you can't even catch them, could Uncle Thornton seriously be expected to? Didn't you always mention that Uncle Thornton couldn't match up to you?"
George looked toward Gwen suspiciously. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
Gwen offered a brilliant smile, her eyes perfectly clear. "Dad, look at it this way: if Uncle Thornton had actually managed to capture the Peerless Assassin, wouldn't that lose you a tremendous amount of face? You are the resident expert on hunting the Peerless Assassin, aren't you?"
George nodded. "Valid point!"
"Right?"
"But I don't believe a word you say."
"Ah."
Looking at Gwen—who had fully evolved into an incredibly sharp, black-hearted daughter—George let out a cold chuckle.
"Do you know? The way you look when you lie now perfectly mirrors that wild boar. Clear eyes—that is the signature expression that wild boar displays whenever he tells a lie."
Good grief. Even her manner of lying had transformed into the exact shape of that wild boar. Fortunately, he still had little Andy. George lamented internally; this stood as a blessing amidst misfortune.
Gwen couldn't resist laughing, opening her mouth to speak, before blanking slightly. "Clear eyes while lying? Is that real or fake?"
George cast a sidelong glance at Gwen. "If you don't believe me, go try it out yourself sometime."
Gwen opened her mouth.
Right at that moment, a vehicle carrying the markings of the New Orleans Police Department drove over from not far away. The vehicle came to a steady halt. A patrol officer stepped out from the interior, looking toward George.
"Captain George Stacy?"
"That's me."
"My apologies." The officer walked over, shaking hands with George as he expressed that the traffic along the route had been heavily congested, before taking over the luggage. "Our boss is currently over at Lake Pontchartrain. He instructed me to deliver you guys to the residence first."
"No."
"Huh?"
George shook his head. "Head directly to the scene. It has only been less than three hours since the event occurred. Perhaps the Dark Sovereign, Syndra, is still lurking in the vicinity."
The officer blanked briefly, before nodding. "Understood."
"By the way." After entering the vehicle, George, who occupied the front passenger seat, looked at Gwen in the rear through the mirror and spoke to the driving officer, "Deliver my daughter to..."
"Which hotel was it again?"
"The Hilton!"
"Mm." George nodded, instructing, "Deliver my daughter to the Hilton first."
He possessed absolutely no desire to bring Gwen along to the active scene, lest she disrupt the rhythm of his impending second round of flying off the handle at Cop.
However... Gwen hadn't ever intended to tag along with George either.
Naturally, under ordinary circumstances, Gwen would typically want to visit an active scene alongside George. But at this exact moment, she desired nothing more than to head to the hotel to locate Locke, purposes to deliver a massive surprise to him.
'I wonder what exact expression Locke will make.' Gwen thought as much in her heart.
***
Bonus chapter.
Next at 300 stones
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