The sudden burst of gunfire interrupted the words of the young man with the small mustache.
He looked down at his chest, which had been penetrated by a bullet, his clothes already stained red with blood and still spreading outwards instinctively, he turned his head, wanting to see who had fired the shot.
Stained red, he saw John.
John, dressed in a black suit and white shirt, was holding a gun, pointing it at his forehead.
However, this shot was aimed at the forehead.
The bullet pierced through the young man’s brow, and the mustachioed youth fell to the ground.
"We were just hired!"
"We were just hired!"
The muscular man emphasized.
"He’d call us for jobs, and after we completed them, we’d get paid..."
The muscular man shook his head, pointing to a cell phone on the table, then he saw John raise the gun in his hand.
Immediately, the man struggled, shouting loudly.
"Don’t kill me, it wasn’t me who killed your dog!"
John pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Again, right between the eyes.
"She wasn’t just a dog, she was my everything!"
John said coldly, then fired four more shots at the bodies on the ground.
After confirming that the four were dead beyond doubt, he picked up the cell phone on the table, glanced at the received calls, and looked at the number marked with asterisks. John didn’t make the call.
He sat on the couch, waiting quietly.
He believed that the other party would call again.
As long as the other party wanted to recreate "The Cross Street Tracker," they would definitely call.
In fact, the call came faster than John had expected.
Just ten minutes later—
The phone started ringing.
After connecting a palm-sized device to the phone, John answered the call.
"What the hell are you guys good for?"
"I just told you to deal with the bodies and leave the dog there! Leave it there, not kill it!"
As soon as he picked up the phone, a roar came from the earpiece. Explore more at empire
It was a very angry shout.
John didn’t really speak, just murmured vaguely.
"You don’t have a chance anymore!"
"I’m finding new people!"
"Not you disobedient pieces of crap!"
The voice on the other end finished and hung up.
However, for John, this was enough.
He looked at the data transmitted by the device in his hand, operated it a few times, then confirmed where he needed to go next.
John got up and walked outside.
At this time, Jason had just returned near Apartment 3A.
The driving speed of the officer was too slow compared to John’s driving speed.
Moreover, it seemed the other party was deliberately slowing down.
Without a doubt, this must have been arranged by the police chief.
"Guessed that the killer was recreating ’The Cross Street Tracker,’ so they ’controlled’ me, the protagonist, to slow down my pace, thereby restraining the ’killer’ and gaining more time and initiative?"
Jason thought to himself.
If he could guess it, then Davide could too.
Jason never doubted a police chief’s intelligence.
After all, one who could be an on-scene frontline chief wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
Without a doubt, the current ’killer’ saw himself in the role, while he became the ’protagonist’ of his own book, and the two needed to keep interacting for the plot to progress.
If one of them failed to keep up, naturally the interaction would stop.
Would the other party let the interaction stop so easily?
Even if he had to stop ’passively.’
Did the other party have other plans?
Since they were already recreating ’The Cross Street Tracker,’ they would have considered all aspects, not just be ’held back.’
So, what would it be?
Jason, who was deep in thought, suddenly spoke up.
Amid the friction of the tires against the road, the car came to a steady stop at the curb.
The driving officer looked at Jason, puzzled.
Jason pointed outside the window.
There was a fast food stand.
Though he was contemplating, Jason’s eyes wouldn’t miss an already determined ’target,’ especially one related to food.
"You want a hot dog?"
The officer was taken aback, his face not catching up with the situation.
"Aside from that, what else could it be?"
Jason said as he pushed open the door and got out of the car.
The officer instinctively wanted to stop him, lifting his hand before realizing that he was there just to drop Jason off, not to escort him.
Jason wasn’t a criminal.
Suddenly, the officer swallowed the words he was about to say.
Jason ignored the officer behind him, his attention captured by the aromas of grilled hot dogs, sandwiches, orange juice, and gamer water.