League of Legends

Chapter 114 The Undertaker

midair.

Baker, who was suspended in mid-air with the bamboo dragonfly on his back, patted the small flame on his shoulder, and looked at the large and small vehicles that were burning at the intersection below with a somewhat uncomfortable expression.

He just said that today is his lucky day.

result……

He was directly slapped in the face on the spot.

Baker glanced at the New York police car whizzing by not far away, shook his head, changed back to his original appearance in the air, and flew directly towards 820 Fifth Avenue, which was only two blocks away.

Which of my enemies is this again?

Baker took off the bamboo dragonfly, took off the scorched suit jacket on the outside, loosened his tie, and was thinking as he walked towards the bar counter of the wine cabinet.

Definitely not the Intercontinental.

The reason why Baker came back two days late was to see how the InterContinental Hotel would react to the news that the assassins they had sent and the assassins on the Tiber Island were wiped out.

Two days was enough time for them to respond.

In this way, Baker can determine based on the response of the InterContinental Hotel, whether we can be as tacit in the future as we are now.

Baker thought about it too, and he was overreacting at Amazon.

This is bad.

Anyone can take orders for a killer, even the president would offer a bounty from time to time, let alone Baker.

As long as the five high tables of the InterContinental Hotel don't end in person, Baker won't bother to come to the door, and then directly kill them.

His current goal is the remaining two ego gems, and the others can be put aside for the time being in front of the ego gems.

But Baker never expected it.

Back in New York, he was first entertained by one of his former enemies, or someone else.

why?

InterContinental Hotel's means are not so low.

The taxi driver was obviously a refugee who fled to the Federation from Iraq in the past few years.

I originally thought that I could come to the Federation and live the life of the free country and ideal country that the Federation boasted, but I didn't expect that there would be a lot of work and little money, and even dare not go to the hospital even when sick, and beware of immigrants Department of arrest.

"The Undertaker?"

"Milton Babbitt."

Baker sipped the bourbon in his glass and said a name.

Undertaker Milton Babbitt, a member of the criminal world, is a killer. However, he never kills himself. Instead, he will share part of the bounty he received and subcontract it to a person who has no hope of life or continues to use it. Ordinary people with money, let these ordinary people kill special targets, and then commit suicide by raising their guns.

It's a weirdo among killers.

But precisely because of this, the deaths of those targets have never been suspected by the New York Police Department or other police departments as killers, but attributed to general revenge society killings.

The driver just said that.

Don't blame him, his daughter is sick and needs a lot of money urgently, such a person is too suitable for the tools selected by the mourners.

After half an hour.

Gwen's Computer Store.

"Clap!"

"What is this? Faisal ibn Abdul? For what?"

"Help me find out his identity."

Baker threw the wallet he got from the driver to Gwen, thought for a while and said, "Look for his family's bank records. A large sum of money has entered recently."

Mourners pay first.

But it is not paid to the tool owner who is about to commit suicide, but will be paid to the person designated by the tool owner in the receiving bank.

Gwen said after a pause, "No."

Baker frowned: "What?"

Could it be that the mourners have also learned to embezzle the bounties of the tool people? You are a tool person yourself, and you still embezzle the bounties of the tool people you contracted. Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?

Gwen pushed the glasses on the bridge of her nose: "But I found out that he has a daughter who is hospitalized in New York's Saint Nursing Hospital and is waiting for a heart transplant. A shell company?"

Baker nodded.

That's right.

The Undertaker's handwriting, yes.

After confirming that he had not wronged anyone, Baker said to Gwen, "Milton Babbitt, can you find out his information?"

"Where are you from?"

"do not know."

"perhaps?"

"New York?"

"..."

Gwen glanced at Baker, then shook her head, and moved her fingers quickly on the keyboard. Soon, the data archives of the New York Police Department, the DMV, the FBI... and the coast patrol were directly deleted. Wen entered easily.

Four p.m.

Baker has found the Undertaker he was looking for.

"Hello!" Baker sat on the sofa in the mourner's home, crossed his right leg, and greeted the middle-aged, bald, stomachless mourner who opened the door with a smile on his face.

The face of the mourner changed.

turn around.

"boom!"

"Boom!"

"what!"

Because the right calf was hit directly, and his face was slammed on the door frame, the mourner, who was bleeding from his nostril, lay on the ground and screamed loudly.

Baker stood up.

"boom!"

"One second, one bullet."

"what!"

"boom!"

"..."

Baker's marksmanship is excellent, and he can use bullets to create an effect similar to a thousand cuts. Even if the target is pierced with fifty bullet holes, as long as Baker doesn't want him to die, the target will not die.

The mourner gasped and gritted his teeth: "What do you want?"

Baker walked up to the mourners: "Name."

"I have no idea!"

"boom!"

"Ah... I really don't know..."

"boom!"

Baker said blankly, "Name."

do not know?

Are you kidding me? You don’t even know who issued the bounty. Are you still a killer, or are you also a killer for the heavens?

The mourner broke out in cold sweat on his forehead: "I checked, the account he transferred the money to was from an overseas bank."

Baker shook his head, raised his hand, and with a bang, rewarded the mourner with another bullet.

Could it be that there really are killers who keep secret for their employers these days?

The mourner twitched on the ground like a carp, and the false eye in the right eye socket was stared straight down.

Baker asked again: "Name."

The mourner was about to cry, in pain and crying: "If you don't believe me, go to the vault and check it yourself. When I was halfway through the investigation, that person called again yesterday, saying that you will come out of the New York airport today."

Baker raised his eyebrows: "The password to the vault."

The mourner looked at Baker with a mixture of snot, tears and nosebleeds: "You promise..."

"boom!"

"Boom!"

Baker looked at the mourners whose heads were in close contact with the floor, and shook his head speechlessly. Why do some people always need to ask a stupid question when they know it is a stupid one.

Guaranteed what?

Promise not to kill you?

Please.

Isn't it a bit of a spine? When you sent someone to assassinate me, why didn't you think of this place?

Think I can't find you?

……

　Please recommend a ticket, thank you [Falling Dew Years] for the 6 pieces, thank you [saynol] for the piece

　　

　

(End of this chapter)