A Misunderstanding

Jack had not always been training with the group, as he had other matters to attend to.

But for him, the most valuable things he learned from the master assassin were already at his disposal. Ultra-long-range sniping, arc shooting, and cell repair fluid - he had them all.

However, the one skill he had yet to master was Carlos's skills in crafting guns and snipers. Jack knew that Carlos couldn't teach him this until Wesley successfully learned arc shooting.

And as for arc shooting, it was not easy to learn. It all depended on whether Jack could experience the so-called "intuition."

Jack tried several times on the road but could not seem to load the "intuitive" cheat into his system. He sighed and muttered, "It seems I'm really a serious person who pays attention to science!"

Jack transformed into his shadow form and moved quickly and silently, taking advantage of the darkness to sneak into the heavily guarded villa.

In the study room of the villa, New York Governor Anderson Colemo was examining a document when he felt a cold muzzle pressed against the back of his head.

"Mr. Anderson," Jack said softly next to Anderson's ear.

"Close the study door and tell the bodyguard at the door not to disturb you. Also, close the windows and draw the curtains. After that, let's have a little chat, shall we?"

Anderson calmly rose to his feet, following Jack's instructions with no unnecessary fidgeting. He knew better than to try and resist, especially after the ease with which this stranger had infiltrated his villa's study.

It was clear to Anderson that complying with Jack's demands was his only chance of survival. He knew that keeping his life was the key to escaping this situation.

"Very well," Jack said with a satisfied nod. Our friendly communication is off to a good start.

Anderson braced himself, not knowing what to expect next.

"Nice to meet you, Governor Anderson. Do I need to introduce myself?" Jack asked, offering a polite smile.

Anderson turned around, his heart sinking. The man before him had removed his mask, revealing his true face.

Of course, Anderson was unaware that Jack wore a high-tech simulation headgear that made him appear as Ethan Hunt.

"Wh-what do you want?" Anderson asked in a low voice, trying to keep his composure. "Money? Or something else?"

Jack shook his head, grinning. "No, no, of course not. If I wanted money, I'd rob a bank instead of coming to you."

Anderson let out a small sigh of relief but remained cautious. "So, you want to kill me then? Are you a killer?"

Jack nodded calmly. "I am indeed a killer, but specifically, the killer of the Continental Hotel."

"What? Is the High Table crazy?" Anderson couldn't believe it. "They actually dare to break the rules!"

Jack narrowed his eyes slightly. "Oh, there are some deals between you and the High Table?"

"I don't know anything! Are you just a simple killer?" Anderson thought angrily to swear. "You came to kill me because you received a reward, right?"

"Do you know why the High Table was able to open the Continental Hotel in New York?" Anderson asked.

"Nope," Jack replied without a care in the world.

Anderson shook his head, "A long time ago, they sent a large number of killers to come and threaten the U.S. government," he explained.

"Those killers were indeed pervasive, but we are not vegetarians. If the two sides go to war, our high-level personnel will suffer great losses, and all countries will completely eradicate the High Table at all costs!"

"But if it reaches that level, it will be an unacceptable price for any country. So, we have maintained a balance with the High Table," Anderson continued.

"We allow the High Table to distribute globally, open twelve Continental Hotels, and allow their other affiliated organizations to exist.

But correspondingly, they are absolutely not allowed to do anything too important figures affiliated with state agencies and must hand in funds regularly. And now, you have received a bounty to come and kill me?"

Anderson's eyes widened. "Do you know what that means? Do you know what will happen if I die at your hands?"

"As to what will happen next between the United States and the High Table, I'm not sure, But believe me, one thing I can be sure of is that after you kill me, your time is numbered."

"Both the United States and the High Table will attack you! Your life will no longer belong to you; at that time, life or death will no longer be under your control!

"So, now, young man, have you not realized you have been used as a pawn?"

"Retreat. Leave quickly," Anderson said sternly. "I can pretend that this incident never happened and will never target you. I promise I will only launch revenge against the Continental Hotel afterward!"

Anderson perfectly played the speech level of his position and even surpassed it. Every sentence made sense and was convincing. However, Jack looked at Anderson unmoved.

•••

"Don't you understand? Please believe me?" Anderson pleaded to Jack.

Calmly sitting on the sofa with a pistol by his side, Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I believe you, Mr. Anderson. Every word you said is true," he replied.

Anderson stopped in his tracks, surprised by Jack's sudden agreement.

"You do? Even about not retaliating against me?" he asked skeptically.

Jack chuckled. "Well, maybe not that part. But that's beside the point."

Anderson's heart skipped a beat. "So, you are here to kill me?" he asked, fear creeping into his voice.

Jack shook his head. "No, Mr. Anderson, you misunderstand. I came here to talk to you about something."

Anderson's eyes widened. "Talk to me? You're a killer! What could you possibly want to talk about?"

Jack leaned back on the sofa, a sly smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, you'd be surprised, Mr. Anderson. Let's just say I have a proposition for you."

Anderson's mind raced. A proposition from a killer? This couldn't end well. But he couldn't deny his curiosity. "Okay, What's the proposition?"

Jack's smile grew wider. "I'll tell you, but first, let's put the guns away and have a civilized conversation. I brought some whiskey."

Anderson hesitated momentarily, but he reluctantly put his own gun away and sat across from Jack. Jack poured them a glass of whiskey and raised his glass in a toast.

"Here's to new beginnings, Mr. Anderson."

Anderson clinked his glass against Jack's, still unsure what would come.

"So, what's this proposition of yours?" he asked, sipping the smooth whiskey.