Chapter 29: Chapter 29
"To stand by a friend through thick and thin—this was one of the few mottos Alex lived by!"
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"Howard and Kingpin have decided to join forces to maximize the efficiency of their recruitment efforts. They'll meet in a factory in Brooklyn two days from now." Frank's expression was stoic, but a sinister smile crept onto his face. "I plan to catch them completely off guard!"
"Whistle!"
Alex let out a playful whistle, patting his palm excitedly. "Cool! Let's do it! Two days from now, we'll hit them so hard they won't know what hit them—leave them scrambling, with rivers of blood in their wake!"
"Alex, thank you!"
Frank looked at Alex with genuine gratitude. He knew that Alex's special abilities would increase the odds of his revenge exponentially.
"Hey, what about me? I'm helping you too! Don't you think I deserve a thank you as well?" Hit-Girl, sitting on the side, shouted indignantly.
"Oh, right. Thank you too!"
Hearing this, Frank immediately replied. At just eleven years old, Hit-Girl reminded him of his son, who had been tragically killed. Around her, Frank often showed rare moments of warmth. Yet his perfunctory tone made it clear he was humoring a child, which only irritated Hit-Girl further.
"Ugh, no sincerity at all!"
Hit-Girl grumbled in annoyance and stopped interrupting Alex and Frank's conversation. However, her attention quietly shifted to Vanessa, who was sitting nearby.
Vanessa was sipping orange juice through a straw with her eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the discussion among the trio.
"—Huh?"
"Don't even think about bothering her!"
Just as Hit-Girl was about to speak, Alex cut her off preemptively. To divert her attention, Alex grabbed a box from the couch and placed it on the coffee table in front of them.
"These are souvenirs I brought back for you guys. Take a look."
With that, Alex opened the box and began taking out a dozen knives of various shapes and sizes, displaying them before the others.
"This is…"
Frank and Hit-Girl's eyes lit up as they reached for the knives. Both were experts in close combat and enthusiasts of cold weapons. The moment they held the knives, they could feel the exceptional quality of the materials and craftsmanship.
"Where did you get these?"
Frank twirled a katana deftly, an almost childlike glee in his eyes. Compared to this blade, his usual weapons were utter garbage.
Meanwhile, Hit-Girl skillfully wielded a pair of ***, her movements fluid and precise. Clearly, her fascination with weapons wasn't just an empty claim.
"I snatched these as spoils of war!" Alex shrugged with a smug grin, picking out a sheathed katana and a dagger for himself before gesturing to the others.
"Don't hold back. Take whatever you like. But honestly, you probably don't need too many. These weapons are made from some unknown material—they're unbelievably tough. Their sharpness and durability surpass anything I've ever seen. They're top-tier close-combat gear!"
"Awesome!"
Hit-Girl cheered, picking up another katana. Frank, on the other hand, chose a dagger and a grappling hook. His training as a special forces operative made his choices more practical—everything he selected had high utility in combat.
"Here, you should have one too."
Noticing Vanessa's subtle gaze lingering on the knives, Alex grabbed a dagger and handed it to her. In America, regulations on weapons like knives and guns were far more lenient than in places like China. Nearly 80% of households owned firearms, and in a "dangerous" city like New York, it was common for every family to have multiple weapons.
Carrying a dagger, like Vanessa would now, was perfectly ordinary. It wasn't just a tool for self-defense; in a city like this, it could serve as a swift and decisive counter to danger.
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