Blaine stood atop a high-rise building, casting a deep gaze toward the pier.
Violence burned in his eyes.
Being manipulated—while he wasn't afraid—the feeling of being used was deeply unsettling.
Especially when he thought about the arrogant people behind the scenes, confident in their success, looking down on him. It made him even more furious.
"Damn it. Even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Nick Fury and Black Widow don't dare to mess with me. Yet this little bastard dares? This world really is too small. He must have a death wish. Does he think he's that powerful?"
But in the end, Blaine suppressed the hostility. His eyes glinted coldly, like a lone wolf hidden in the bushes, slipping quietly into the shadows and vanishing into the distance.
The money had not yet arrived.
For money, he could still endure—for now.
Once the money hit his account, he'd settle the score with whoever was behind this.
In fact, it would be even better if they didn't pay him.
Sure, he liked money—but that didn't mean he would tolerate being manipulated for it.
Blaine sneered, casually typed out a message, and sent it to Ward Meacham:
"Mission completed."
At this point, more than receiving his commission, he wanted Ward to be bold enough to not pay.
"Hello? Dad, the task is completed."
"Arrange a trip for me immediately."
"Now?"
"Yes, now!"
A flash of cunning crossed Harold's eyes, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
From what he knew, the Hand's independent factory produced a batch of "product" every two days. On the third day, Madame Gao would inspect the goods and arrange for their distribution worldwide—or deliver them directly to New York's gangs.
Now was the perfect time to inspect the shipment.
As for Ward—
In Harold's eyes, Ward was born to serve him. A tool.
He didn't deserve to know anything. His only role was to obey orders.
Meanwhile, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s search was in full swing. It was only a matter of time before they found Ward Meacham.
After all, someone had dared to hire Bounty Hunters to steal from S.H.I.E.L.D.. This was unforgivable.
The guilty party had to be punished, to ensure no one else would ever dare try. At least, that's what Nick Fury believed.
As for the Bounty Hunter…
They couldn't punish him—yet. They didn't even know who he was. Without an identity, how could he be sanctioned?
But Nick Fury had other ideas.
Of course, to carry out his plan, he needed to wait until the Avengers were formed. Right now, he didn't have the strength to execute it.
If possible, Nick Fury would have liked to recruit Blaine into the Avengers. But it was clear the man held no regard for S.H.I.E.L.D.—he definitely wouldn't agree.
Tempt him with money?
Fury shook his head.
Given Blaine's refusal to rob or steal, he clearly had specific principles for accepting missions. Money alone wouldn't cut it.
So, Fury focused on preparing the Avengers initiative.
It's worth mentioning that Natasha Romanoff was particularly invested in tracking down the mission's employer. Aside from tasks requiring rare or technical skills, she personally handled nearly the entire operation.
Nick Fury understood her motives clearly.
'She's venting,' he thought. 'Let her. It's better this way.'
Hopefully, Blaine wouldn't push them too hard during this period.
Natasha Romanoff was not having a good time. Someone had happened to cross her path—and naturally, she showed no mercy.
Blaine, however, had no idea what Harold was planning.
While waiting three days for the money, he returned to the villa district, living the decadent life of a capitalist boss.
But indulgence quickly turned to boredom.
Blaine felt utterly drained. Golf, horseback riding, movies, karaoke, drinks, swimming...
Boring as hell!
Curling his lips, he reluctantly started another movie—just to pass the time. But even while the movie played, his thoughts drifted far, far away…
Eventually, he fell asleep.
Three nights later.
Blaine's expression turned cold and merciless. He suited up in his Hunter gear and strapped on his Elemental Bow. He glanced at the wall clock.
"Clack."
"Beep…"
"Clack."
"The three-day deadline has passed."
A bloodthirsty smile crept across his face. A scarlet gleam flickered in his eyes. He pulled the Hunter hood over his head.
[Ding!]
[It has been detected that an employer has failed to transfer the commission within the allotted three days, attempting to evade payment…"]
[After a system search, the employer's identity is confirmed: Harold Meacham.]
[As the first person to withhold commission, the host is requested to take his head to uphold the honor of the Bounty Hunter title. If you fail, the system will not punish you—but let it be known, if one person crosses the forbidden line without consequence, others will follow. Host, take this to heart!]
[This person… kill! No mercy!]
[This person… kill! No mercy!]
[This person… kill! No mercy!]
This notification was different from usual.
It pulsed with murderous intent, each line brimming with bloodlust.
Especially the three repetitions of [This person… kill! No mercy!]—their sheer presence seemed to exude the stench of blood.
Blaine felt his spirit tremble, as though he stood in a battlefield of corpses and bleeding saints.
After a long moment, Blaine slowly came back to his senses. Seeing the name Harold Meacham displayed by the system, he sneered.
"As expected… that old bastard."
He slowly closed his eyes and connected with the system.
***
Host: Blaine
Physical Fitness: 100
Hunter Level: C
Abilities:
[Diamond Body Lv.4], [Absolute Hit Lv.3], [Hawkeye Lv.3], [Mind Control Lv.3], [Shadow Stealth Lv.3], [Mind Reading], [Danger Sense].
Equipment:
[Hunter Suit (+10)], [Elemental Bow (+10)], [White Snake Bow (+5)], [Tracking Paper Cranes (×5)]
***
Looking at the five tracking paper cranes in the equipment slot, Blaine's gaze brightened slightly.
It was finally time to put them to use.
*************************************
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