48
Chapter 48: Forty-eight, George who fell in love and killed each other
"Is S.H.I.E.L.D. sending someone over?"
But...
Even if they aimed to seduce, sending someone resembling Black Widow here? Who would be fooled?
Locke thought initially, but by night, he reconsidered.
Regardless of Megan Vasi's true identity, she wasn't likely an agent or spy for S.H.I.E.L.D. or any official agency.
Again.
Real or fake, official business.
Megan's information seemed ordinary, but to Locke, it seemed riddled with holes.
Especially Tron High School in Canada.
Days ago, Locke upgraded his hacking skills, rivaling a CIA hacker, though not the best.
This was the Federation, where top talent worked on Wall Street; military for second-best. Agencies like the CIA ranked third.
Enough.
Locke traced and hacked Tron University's database, finding Megan Vasi's profile, altered a half-month ago from a small, obscure Internet café.
Locke rubbed his chin, studying Megan's Midtown University records, noticing embedded code triggered when accessed.
Sixteen.
Old shooter.
Boxing skilled.
Hacker.
Not a lifelong killer, nor a child-trained killer. Dared live-shampoo broadcast upside down tonight.
Wrong.
Special agent.
Child-trained killers exuded a unique aura. Control methods ensured obedience.
Megan Vasi didn't fit.
But...
An agent skipping tasks to attend school? Brain lapse?
Megan wasn't here for a mission.
Reason?
Recent transfer, too high-profile. To complete a task, equally public.
But...
Megan's seemingly foolish appearance, playing the fool.
If truly an agent, Locke's assessment was one word.
Noob!
Locke sensed an unspoken reason.
Any reason why Megan Vasi couldn't?
Long pause.
Locke shook his head.
Forget it.
Stay out.
If no task, none of Locke's business.
Focus on daily tasks, orders, earning points, building a treasury.
Again.
Peace preferred, but calculating if needed. Aimed at him, respond accordingly.
In his dictionary...
No killing without warning.
Time passed.
One month to November 2004. Locke and Gwen's chemistry team, headed to Maine for competition.
Big task. Basic reward: 5,000 points. First place: triple.
Locke anticipated.
Daily, with Gwen and team, school cafeteria, evening teacher's "stove."
Locke's nightly missions continued.
"Boom!"
"What?"
A man, shot at Locke, baffled as Locke, hit but unhurt, posed for a photo, leaving.
Second-level talent.
Small pistol, barely felt.
Traces, shallow, non-penetrating.
But...
Head, lower, sensitive. No experiment.
Home.
1,000 Potential, 1,000 Achievement Points, plus 200k.
Post-bath, call.
"Gwen."
"Dad's after the sin hunter again."
"...George's late; sin hunter's gone."
"Hey!"
Gwen sighed, "Promotion, yet crime cases pull him. Mom and dad fought."
My fault.
Locke admitted.
Week ago, resolved textile factory killings. New mayor, Ms. Casey, ended month-long chaos.
Ex-mayor jailed, paroled.
Ms. Casey secure.
Standard Commonwealth art.
Ms. Casey rewarded backers. Municipal orders followed.
George et al?
Ms. Casey viewed their books, petition-like, for own.
George...
Promotion. Police inspector.
Good.
Helen Stacy almost cried; George's safety, no surprise call.
Locke agreed, but...
George had demons.
One demon.
Him.
...