Hitman: Blood Money Missions 소설 & 이야기

Tommy walked over to Iris and pulled her hand slowly toward the table. He then took out a knife and suddenly slashed her index finger. The movement was so fast that Iris herself didn't have time to wince in pain. "Only the blood of Hunters can kill demons. And you are a Hunter, Iris. You are destined to possess that blood to exterminate demons." Eva said while collecting Iris's blood drop into a stainless steel container. Iris winced in pain as Tommy deliberately pressed hard against the incision on her index finger to force the blood to stop flowing out. Then he wrapped the incision with a cloth and gave her a lemon.

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I turn my mouth and spit a huge amount of blood onto the floor. "You bastard, don't spit on my floors!" His brother pipes up from behind Amil. I clench my jaw tighter before turning my head and spitting again, the clump of blood landing next to the previous one. I turn, smirking at him as his eyes widen in disbelief. Amil shakes his head, chuckling dangerously quietly. His shoulders tense up and I freeze, feeling the bile rise to the back of my throat. "I think you've forgotten what I'm capable of, Melvin..." He drifts off, his eyes shining with sick humour. I watch helplessly as he lifts his gun at my head before aiming.

"Blood Money as an organization accepts various assassination missions provided by clients into their webpage on the dark web. The targets will then be graded in accordance with their bounty, the status and identity of the target, and the estimated difficulty of the assassination. "Anyone on the dark web who sees the mission posting can participate in the hunt, and the prize money will be given to whoever completes the mission first." Austin's eyes widened in horror as he stared at the phone while listening to Aldus' explanation.

“In that case, count me in.” Little Sis, number three on the hitman ranking, piped up. “Don’t forget about me.” Then, Wanderer and Grim Reaper, number four and seven on the hitman ranking respectively, agreed to go too. James began assuring the assassins that had committed themselves to the cause. “Although the mission in Southern Plains City is extremely dangerous, I promise I’ll bring you all back safely. This is how the plan will go. You’ll remain in the shadows and come get me in secret. If something doesn’t feel quite right, leave immediately.”

I sneer at the man who only keeps whimpering while looking at us and shaking his head repeatedly. "Despite all the money he has?" "The world we live in, all the rich want to do is get richer. And Alessandro found the perfect men to be his lackeys." I take out my gun and in one swift move, I shoot him in the head all the while keeping my eyes on Nova. And I'm filled with pride when she doesn't flinch or bat an eye. Good girl. She's learning. This is what it takes. The secret missions, the breaking down of all the B-20 superiors who are also government workers, it's all going to involve blood. None of it will be neat as far as I have anything to do with it.

The hitman raised his gun, and a shootout erupted. Bullets flew through the air, hitting the crates and the walls, sending splinters of wood and metal flying everywhere. Liam and Mr. Park ducked behind the crates, returning fire. The hitman was a skilled shooter, and he managed to hit Mr. Park in the arm, but Mr. Park didn’t stop. He kept firing, his eyes fixed on Victor, on the man who’d taken his niece.

Eighty billion dollars of blood money, painstakingly hidden over four decades. The commander's blood turned entirely to ice. The fifty assassins surrounding the room stared at the screens, watching their life savings, their payment, and their syndicate's lifeblood projected in blinding white text. "I am the architect of the dark," Zara whispered softly, the freezing zero of her logic dominating the minds of the most ruthless killers on earth. "Julian gave you coordinates. I hold your actual lives." She hovered her thumb over the heavy red delete key on the terminal.

*Mark. The word landed differently than it should have. Not bureaucratic. Not procedural. Something older. Something that made my skin heat and my spine pull in two directions at once. "What does it mean," I said. "To be marked." His eyes found mine. The gold didn't flash this time. It stayed. --- "You found it," he said finally. His voice was careful in the way voices are careful when the speaker is managing something large. "You knew it was here." "My patrol found the blood this morning."

I yanked the bag downward with all my strength, then drove my knee up, slamming it straight into his stomach. A dull grunt escaped him as his body staggered backward. He collapsed against the stair railing, his face turning pale in an instant. Brian recovered and rushed at me again. I did not give him the chance. I bent down fast and grabbed the metal cash box my dad had thrown aside earlier. Bang! The edge of the box smashed down onto Brian's foot. "Argh! My foot!" He clutched it, rolling on the ground in pain. I did not stop. I grabbed my backpack and sprinted down the stairs.