Gun of Ashes

Hebdo gently turned his wrist, the mechanical clicking sound in the silence was so clear, he twisted the doorknob, revealing a corner of darkness.

Nothing happened.

Hebdo originally thought that opening the door would be the start of a great battle, but unexpectedly, nothing happened. He did not relax his vigilance because of this; instead, he grew even more tense.

If Erin’s counterattack isn’t here, then where will it be?

Hebdo silently walked into the room, without turning on the lights. Everything appeared extremely dim; he could only make out silhouette after silhouette, outlining a warm room.

He intended to move forward, but as though sensing something, Hebdo leaned to one side and hid in the shadows.

Hasty footsteps sounded, faint and suppressed, yet Hebdo’s keen senses captured them.

Someone entered through the open door, clad in all black, faces covered with pure black masks, making them completely unrecognizable.

The air was heavy with the scent of blood. On the ascending staircase, a tailing security guard lay already in a pool of blood, his throat viciously sliced open, leaving one bloody footprint after another on the floor.

Hebdo held his breath.

As expected, Lorenzo was right.

Hebdo began to trust that unconventional detective; though he seemed unreliable, he truly was professional in his work.

Erin wasn’t a simple woman; she was under the attention of multiple forces. Lorenzo speculated that for such a woman to survive so long, she must have her own schemes and tactics. She would weave trap after trap right where she stood, waiting for those with ill intentions.

This was also why Lorenzo did not come personally; Hebdo was Lorenzo’s stick, forcefully rattling out the poisonous snakes hidden in the grass, leaving Lorenzo, the real Hunter, to resolve everything afterward.

Hebdo still remembered the words Lorenzo said in that peculiar accent.

The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.

The assassins seemed urgent; two of them dispersed to search the room, while two headed straight for the bedroom, everything proceeding simultaneously, and the silent space became noisy.

Inside the bedroom, there was a vague human shape on the bed. The assassins didn’t hesitate, their sharp daggers stabbing directly into the bedding to ensure the target’s death, repeatedly piercing through several times.

But no blood flowed.

Pulling back the blanket, it was a pile of punctured pillows, pure white stuffing flying about.

Where was Erin?

Exchanging a glance, the assassins scrutinized the room carefully, and across from the bed, a half-open wardrobe caught their attention.

One assassin aimed his gun at the wardrobe while the other crept closer.

In the dark crevice, it seemed something was spying on them; he flung open the wardrobe, and gunfire erupted.

As the wardrobe opened, a preset trap was triggered, a rope pulled the trigger, causing the handgun atop the wardrobe to fire now, the bullet shot down at an angle from above, striking the assassin before he could retreat.

The darkness veiled these events, and the burst of gunfire made the woman inside the wardrobe whimper in fear, her voice attracting the assassins. Chaotic gunfire erupted, bullets repeatedly penetrating the wardrobe, until blood could no longer be contained from gushing out.

The woman was dead, her body losing the support of strength, her broken carcass tumbling out of the wardrobe and lying in a pool of blood.

The room remained unlit, making it hard to confirm the woman’s identity immediately, but as far as the assassins were concerned, this was Erin.

She had intentionally set up a decoy on the bed to deceive the assassins, hiding in the wardrobe herself, awaiting her chance to counterattack. But she was too rash; if she hadn’t fired, the assassins were not going to kill her since she still held many valuable secrets in her brain.

The mission was completed; now they just needed to confirm the identity of the corpse.

Constrained breaths eased up, the assassins breathed heavily, and the one who got shot let out groans of pain.

An assassin reached out his hand to pull up his fallen comrade, but suddenly realized something.

Something was wrong.

He looked at the dead woman’s corpse, remembering how those people had described Erin, and now this cunning woman had died, so easily, so simply.

No, where were the others?

The assassin abruptly turned to check on the others searching the room, only to see a stout figure, an icy gun barrel aimed right at his head.

When a person is under tension and pressure, all their attention focuses on what’s before them. This is good, allowing them to keenly observe any anomalies in their target, but it is also not good, overly focused, they might overlook other matters.

Just like now.

As soon as the gunfire began, Hebdo took action, emerging from the shadows, a fierce punch landing on the assassin’s throat, causing the entire head to twist down grotesquely with Hebdo’s powerful punch, the sound of his fall perfectly masked by gunfire, followed by the next... the one in Hebdo’s grasp.

Hebdo released his other hand, and under his broad embrace, the assassin was choked to death, his body collapsing to the floor as if his spine was removed, limply.

”Put down the gun.”

Hebdo aimed his gun at the standing assassin, who answered not with words, but with action.