23
Chapter 23: Do You Shoot?
"I'm sorry," Locke said.
"It's okay."
In Gwen's room, she looked at Locke, who was preparing to leave after picking up his bag. She spread out her hands and sighed, explaining, "My father means well, but he's impulsive and has a strong sense of justice. Whenever there's a case, he rushes in. You can't imagine how worried my mother and I get."
Gwen and Helen hoped this incident would teach George a lesson.
Imagine if George hadn't faced the Sin Hunters last night but other serial killers or terrorists. What would happen to a cop charging in without body armor or support?
Just look at the NYPD Memorial Wall. It speaks volumes.
It's not that Helen and Gwen support the Sin Hunters; they're just stating the truth.
Locke smiled, picking up a casual suit jacket from Gwen's coat rack and putting it on. "Thanks to officers like Mr. Stacy, we can enjoy a safe life, right? Mr. Stacy is an admirable man."
However...
Admiration aside, Gwen and Helen hoped this incident would change George's ways. Locke doubted it.
In various fields, successful individuals come in all types. They have different personalities but share one common trait: perseverance.
Like Locke.
In his career as an assassin, Locke ensured every job was a success, never missing a target or botching an assignment.
George was no different. Every case he handled was closed.
To put it plainly, if a veteran sheriff in New York hasn't handled a few unsolved cases over ten years, it's unusual. But George is exceptional; all his cases are closed, no loose ends.
From this perspective, when George said to Locke, "I know we're similar kinds of people," he was right.
Locke agreed. "True."
Gwen handed Locke his backpack as he put on his coat. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"I'll be going to the DMV," Locke replied.
He had applied for a personalized license, which had come through when he bought the car. Unfortunately, the car was scrapped before he could register it, not once but twice. Sunday should pose no issues for him.
Gwen brightened. "Great! Let's go together."
Locke looked at Gwen.
She smiled. "I'm fine with my driver's license. I was going to have Dad take me, but..."
George probably wouldn't have the time.
Locke nodded. "Sure, then you plan to give me a lift tomorrow, and I'll pick you up."
As classmates, they should help each other.
Besides, Locke had already enjoyed Helen's cooking twice.
But...
As Locke was about to leave, George, who had just rested, appeared downstairs. He looked at Locke. "Are you heading back now?"
"Do you need me to stay overnight?" Locke asked.
George nodded. "Yes, the department's report just came in. Drop me off on your way, and let's have a drink, if you don't mind."
"Of course not," Locke agreed.
After saying goodnight to Gwen and Helen, Locke drove out with George.
The silver Audi R8 cruised at 60 mph, defying any speeding tickets.
Locke drove, while George, in the passenger seat, appeared to be on a call with someone from the department.
Firefox's identity was discovered already?
So soon.
Shouldn't the weavers be busy covering their tracks right about now?
That's what Locke thought.
"Locke."
After George hung up, he glanced out the window at the passing scenery and casually asked, "Do you like firearms?"
Locke looked at George. "Of course. Firearms, they're a man's thing."
George nodded. "Have you used them before?"
"In Texas, I hunted and practiced shooting," Locke replied.
George chuckled. "How about next weekend? Shall we go to the shooting range?"
Locke was surprised. "Really? That sounds great, Mr. Stacy. Thank you."
"Consider it settled."
Before closing the car door, George said to Locke, "Let's keep this between us, not a word to Gwen or Helen. It's a guy thing."
"I'll keep my word," Locke promised.
Later, as Locke drove back, he wondered if George had found anything.
He examined his right hand, smooth and fitting for a sixteen-year-old, not calloused from years of throwing spears.
His shooting skills had just received a commendation.
A true marksman needs plenty of ammunition.
But not Locke...
Dark blue...
Forget it.
Trying to judge Locke's profession by his physical appearance was futile.
Was that why George suggested the shooting range?
Locke chuckled to himself at the thought.
The next day, after waiting for Gwen's call, Locke took her to the New York Vehicle Management Office.
Later, after Gwen got her driver's license, Locke received his own license plate number from the staff.
Locke took the tools, squatted in front of his hard-earned Audi R8, and attached the license plate.
The license plate read: LKNB!
Gwen examined it, puzzled. "What does this abbreviation stand for?"
Locke nodded knowingly. "Exactly."
Gwen tried to decipher the letters but gave up.
Locke grinned.
LKNB!
Locke rocks!
Straightforward and clear.
Gwen chuckled. "Congratulations! Finally got your card. Hopefully, this one won't end up scrapped after 24 hours."
The first car lasted less than ten hours before a falling body smashed it to bits. The second car, less than eight hours old, met a similar fate, riddled with bullets and exploding on impact.
This was the third car.
And it had made it past twenty-four hours.
Locke checked his watch and sighed in relief. "Indeed. It's been quite a journey. I'll cherish this."
Gwen covered her mouth, amused. "You better."
Locke nodded. "I will."
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