Chapter 26: Sanctions

Luca glanced at the photo. It was a candid shot taken of him while he was being interviewed by reporters in Times Square that day.

It seemed that John had his eyes on him from the very beginning. Was it because of that off-the-cuff rant?

This left Luca completely baffled.

Why add someone to your twisted script, and why specifically him?

Did this guy, John, even know who he was? Did he know he was a top-tier assassin from the Continental Hotel?

If John had somehow managed to assassinate him, the "Seven Deadly Sins" case would likely have ended right there, and these sensational crimes rocking New York would never have occurred.

Luca would make sure he learned just how foolish it was to mark a hitman who shouldn't be trifled with.

However, this did raise some alarms for Luca.

The butterfly effect in this world wasn't just caused by his own actions; there were inexplicable links between various character cards as well.

"He's marked so many people—which ones has he already killed?"

Luca wasn't sure.

John usually committed his crimes in advance and then released the details to the media in chronological order, playing the police like a fiddle.

Luca remembered one victim who had been tortured for over a year.

Had that Wolf of Wall Street been killed yet?

He frowned. He had been counting on getting some money from that direction.

After reviewing all the photos, Luca returned to the main hall, dragged the bloodied John into the darkroom, ripped the gag from his mouth, and pointed at the photos.

"I’ll give you two choices. One, cooperate with me. Answer whatever I ask, and don't try to play games or lie. Otherwise, I’ll kill you right here, and your body will rot in this room until someone smells the stench in half a month."

"Two, you can choose silence, and I’ll put an end to you now. If you don't talk, you can save your words for the next life."

"Do I have a choice?"

John’s expression remained remarkably calm, as if the situation were still within his control. He asked, "Go ahead, what do you want to know?"

Luca: "Of these people in the photos, which ones have you already killed?"

Seeing the mask on Luca's face, John paused, slightly surprised that Luca would ask such a question. He had assumed Luca and Leon were just burglars.

It seemed their identities weren't so simple after all.

Who were they?

The police?

Friends or relatives of the victims, here for revenge?

Facing the dark, cold muzzle of the gun, John took a deep breath and listed every name one by one.

He stared intently into Luca’s eyes, pausing after each name to gauge his reaction, hoping to discern which victim was connected to him.

He rattled off over a dozen names, some real, some fake. Luca showed no reaction to most of them, as he didn't recognize them—all except for one man named Robbie.

When that name was mentioned, Luca’s eyes flickered with a hint of surprise.

Robbie was a partner of that "Wolf of Wall Street" and effectively the number three in the firm.

Seeing Luca’s reaction, John formed a preliminary judgment: perhaps this guy was one of Robbie’s men, hunting him down because of Robbie’s disappearance.

He had just killed Robbie today; logically, it shouldn't have been exposed so soon.

Perhaps he still had a chance...

John: "Are you people working for Robbie?"

Luca: "Where is he now? Tell me."

A smile appeared on John’s face. "Robbie’s disappearance must have caused you quite a bit of trouble. I can tell you this: he’s in my hands, he’s still alive, and I’ve got him locked up. If you want him to live, you have to let me go first."

*Bang!*

The response was a bullet that struck him in the arm.

John’s face twisted in pain, his eyes filled with disbelief.

How dare this guy?

Luca squatted down, grabbed John’s hand, and rubbed his fingertips, which had no fingerprints.

"John Doe, the mastermind behind the recent religious murders in New York. You’re clever, and you’re cautious. You haven't left a single piece of evidence at any crime scene. You even cut off the skin on your fingertips to avoid leaving prints."

"That way, even if the police catch you, you have room to mount a defense, even pleading insanity to escape punishment, right? The crimes you’ve committed are so extreme that no normal person would do them. Your lawyer could easily use insanity to defend you."

Luca couldn't help but feel amused. The "insanity plea" loophole was truly a craft that American criminals had mastered.

When John heard this, a trace of horror, surprise, and fear finally flickered in his eyes.

Why did someone know so much about him? How could they even know about his contingency plans?

He had guessed wrong...

This guy wasn't one of Robbie’s men!

"You know a lot about me," John said, his eyes full of confusion. "Who are you? What is your goal? Some kind of urban Robin Hood? If you broke into my home just to humiliate me and expose my crimes, congratulations, you succeeded. But unfortunately, you can't use the law to punish me."

"Who told you I wanted to use the law to punish you? Those high-ranking officials, the wealthy, and sick perverts like you—none of you are afraid of people using the law as a weapon. What you fear is when people stop using the law."

Luca pulled a gold coin from his pocket. "Recognize this?"

John looked stunned.

The Continental?

Were these two assassins from the Continental Hotel?

He shook his head and laughed bitterly. He had been talking about the law in front of assassins from the Continental?

"With the Continental’s style of doing things, if you really wanted to kill me, I would have been dead by now."

Even in this situation, John remained calm. "But you haven't killed me yet... so, what do you want to get from me? Let’s talk terms."

"Terms?"

Luca sneered, completely giving up on the idea of communicating with a troublesome person like John.

This guy was always trying to control the situation, but Luca wasn't about to give him the chance.

He took out his phone and called Jimmy first—confirming that guy was alive.

Then he called William—the old detective and David were both fine too.

Still not fully at ease, Luca called the hotline of the brokerage firm "Oakmont" and asked about their boss—the Wolf of Wall Street was still alive and kicking.

Watching Luca’s actions, John’s heart sank, and for the first time, his eyes filled with horror and despair.

How could this guy know so many people?

No, this couldn't be happening. His "Seven Deadly Sins" art wasn't finished yet! He was chosen by God; he couldn't just...

"Wait, we can..."

"Motherfucker, go talk terms in the next life."

*Bang!*

A bullet struck John right between the eyebrows.

Until the very last moment of his life, his eyes remained filled with confusion and bewilderment. He still didn't understand who these two people were.

"Let’s go."

Luca retrieved his photo, signaled to Leon, and left the scene quickly.

...

[You have killed the perpetrator of the religious murders, preventing him from harming others... You have defended the peace of New York.]

[Skill points +20]

[Skill fragments +10]

[Neural reaction speed +5%]

[Remaining skill fragments: 57]

Neural reaction speed?

Luca was very satisfied with this reward. It was quite rare and would be of great help to his agility and combat effectiveness.

If he could get a few more rewards like this, one day he would be even more formidable than the Boogeyman or his nephew.

...

That night, at the police station.

William and David, having returned empty-handed, shared their intelligence.

"I checked; those books aren't sold in most bookstores," David said, spreading his hands.

William sighed helplessly, "I didn't find any useful leads on my end either."

David raked his hair in frustration. "I feel like we’re looking in the wrong direction. Maybe it’s just some college student writing a term paper on 20th-century criminal behavior, and he needed those books for reference... We should change our approach."

William fell into thought. Had they really been looking the wrong way?

Just then, a courier walked into the station.

"William Somerset, your express letter!"

"Here."

William took the letter with a puzzled expression. "Who sent this?"

"I don't know, I’m just here to deliver it."

William was even more confused. He opened it to find an anonymous note containing nothing but an address.

He recognized it—it was one of the addresses from the list of people who had checked out those books.

...

Half an hour later, the police arrived at John Doe’s home, surrounding the scene.

Inside, they found a massive amount of criminal evidence, including photos of many victims, as well as John’s own written account of his thought process and the details of his crimes.

This was ironclad proof.

Although there were no fingerprints anywhere in the room, the police had more than enough to convict John.

And with John dead, he could no longer use insanity to escape legal justice, nor could he finish his "Seven Deadly Sins" art, nor could he drag David Mills into the abyss of wrath.

Looking at John’s corpse, William stood still for a long time.

He had a pretty good idea of who sent the anonymous letter and who had killed John, but he had no evidence to prove it.

William frowned.

He walked out of the crime scene, found a quiet corner, and called Luca.

"John Doe should have been punished by the law, not killed outright."

"You couldn't have punished him."

"???"

Just then, David walked over, ranting, "Some guy claiming to be John Doe’s lawyer just showed up! He claims Doe is mentally ill and that those crimes were committed while he was insane! This motherfucking lawyer actually wants to get that lunatic Doe off the hook! I wanted to punch him in the face so hard even his aunt wouldn't recognize him."

David cursed, "He’s even accusing us of police brutality, saying we killed a mentally ill man! Bullshit, we didn't even kill Doe!"

Hearing this, William froze.

If the lawyer's claims were taken seriously, combined with the journals John had written that read like the ramblings of a madman, he might truly have escaped legal punishment.

If John had escaped justice, a monster that dangerous... the consequences would have been unthinkable.

That was not a result William wanted to see.

Luca’s shots had ended the threat permanently, and since the police weren't the ones who did it, it saved them from a mountain of trouble.

The police might be late, but the assassin’s bullet was not.

Perhaps this outcome was better after all.

As someone who knew how to buy privacy from the FBI and wasn't entirely rigid, William’s brow finally relaxed. He lifted his phone and couldn't help but let out a dry, wry laugh.

"Fine, I understand. Thank you."

"Just a small favor. I hope you can retire safely without being bothered by these troubles. The citizens of New York will remember you as an excellent detective who contributed to the peace. By the way, send my regards to Detective Mills. When you two come to the Bronx, I’ll treat you to dinner."

"Right. I’d be happy to."

[Bond: Acquainted]