Long-term salvation

The Jackal (from the TV series The Day of the Jackal), whose real name is Alex Dugan, also uses the alias Charles Calthrop to have a happy family.

As a top international assassin who prefers to work alone, the Jackal has always been highly praised by clients and is also a competitor to the International Contract Agency, ICA. Of course, the latter's business is not only to provide assassination contracts, but also to provide mercenaries, security and security assessment work.

Being able to be active under the nose of the ICA for so long, the Jackal is obviously quite capable. Because of this, one day he received a contract that was forwarded through various channels, with a remuneration of 60 million US dollars.

Sixty million US dollars! Although the jackal instinctively felt that someone had taken a lot of money from it, he was still shocked and satisfied with the reward, except for the task content:

[The suspected illegitimate son of Jonathan Irons, CEO of Atlas Corporation, who was assassinated]

I?

For the Jackal, this was by no means an easy task to do - even a superpower wouldn't want to be constantly retaliated against by Atlas Corporation, let alone a small killer like him... But if he just sneaked into the town of Arkham and collected intelligence on high-value personnel in the town and detailed information on the illegitimate child, he could still get $5 million.

Apart from the fact that the description of "suspected illegitimate child" is a bit subtle, this is still a good job.

After careful consideration, the Jackal decided to sneak into the town of Arkham first and then wait for an opportunity.

So, at nine o'clock in the morning on the first Saturday of March 1992, the Jackal took a bus to the town of Arkham. He came there as a collector of chess and board games, ready to find what he wanted.

After getting off the bus, Jackal reached out to adjust his glasses, took a few steps forward to avoid the crowd of people getting off the bus, and then looked around the town.

At this moment, the brick-red buildings on Arkham's main street have awakened in the bright sunshine. Although the chill of late winter is still curled up in the thin frost on the glass, the warmth from early spring flows along the copper wind chimes on the roofs of the houses, and then falls on those people who are worried about what to wear.

Pedestrians walking on both sides of the street often greet each other and chat happily or sadly. Occasionally, a few children will ride by on their bicycles, leaving behind a series of crisp ringing bells.

This seems to be just an ordinary town. The residents are wealthy, friendly, enthusiastic and a little arrogant... This may be related to the fact that most of them work for Atlas Corporation or the universities and research facilities built around the town.

This is like the independent territory of Atlas Corporation. No wonder so many forces want to enter and find out what's going on.

Recalling the information he had gathered, the Jackal slowly walked along the street, glancing up at the surveillance camera pole perched on the roadside. It was staring back at him, the red dot on its sensor flashing with a steady rhythm, making him feel slightly uneasy.

The jackal was not afraid of this. He was just a tourist from out of town, and he would stay here for a few days at most before leaving. How could someone put him in a sack and take him away?!

After noting the location of the camera, the jackal crossed the zebra crossing and went to the bookstore across the street to buy the latest small town daily. Apart from the headlines of other newspapers, there were only some store recruitment and product sales advertisements. It seemed that there was nothing worth paying attention to.

After a quick glance, the jackal rolled up the newspaper and stuffed it into his small suitcase. Just as he was about to leave, he noticed that the newspapers and magazines on the shelf next to him had been bought out, with only one left.

Subconsciously, the jackal reached out and opened the magazine called "Weird Tales".

The first story is about a small town blocked by fog... The second story is about a cult summoning in an abandoned hospital... The third and fourth stories are all written by the same writer. Although his writing is not good, his magnificent imagination that transcends the ordinary is unforgettable.

Sometimes, the jackal also dreamed that he was a wizard, but unfortunately when he woke up, all he touched was the cold body of a pistol, not a slender magic wand.

"..."

When the jackal finished reading the last story in the magazine, he let out a long breath and looked up, only to meet the unhappy gaze of the bookstore owner, who pointed at the clock hanging in the corner of the room.

It was already nearly eleven o'clock, and he had been standing here for almost two hours!

"Feel sorry."

The jackal quickly pulled out his wallet and paid double the price for the magazine. But just as he was about to leave, the bookstore owner, looking at his calming expression, suddenly pulled out two past issues from under the counter and handed them to him, saying gently,

"I'll give you these two as well. It'll help promote our town of Arkham and save that 'great writer' from complaining all day about how nobody reads his books... You're not from here, are you?"

"Just a tourist, here to investigate the board game market." The Jackal hesitated for a moment before accepting it. But then he changed the subject, a fake smile appearing on his face. He asked vaguely, "Since it's a local magazine, the author must live here. Is there enough legend in Arkham to support his writing?"

For example, the illegitimate son of some important figure is living in seclusion here.

"Haha, who else could it be besides the 'Count of Monte Cristo' who lives in Hill Manor?!" The bookstore owner laughed heartily, reached out and pulled out a tourist map of the town from the shelf next to him, pointed to an unmarked area on the map - it was empty, with nothing there - and tapped his finger on the hill near the forest, shaking his head and saying:

"Mr. Rhodes and his girls live here, Hill House! It used to be a haunted house, but now it seems to be just nonsense. That person lived there very well! But there are still endless weird stories every day, like the antler boy living in Arkham Asylum, the resurrected corpse, and the professors at Miskatonic University who summoned a demon and dissected it..."

"You just said...Mr. Rhodes?"

"Of course, he's a handsome, wealthy young man who often donates to the town and finds suitable jobs for us roughnecks and children. Apart from his reluctance to be mayor, everything about him is fine. If you want to know more, you can go to the town church. Sister Mary and Sister Weihua there are willing to tell you."

Nun? The Jackal knew that the Vatican had recently been close to the Atlas Corporation, which was expanding into the Levant region of the Middle East. But strangely, the Hanafi imams of Turkey remained silent on this matter, as if the New Antioch region, which some angry idiots called a "new age crusader state," did not exist.

Gathering his scattered thoughts, the jackal chatted with the bookstore owner for a few minutes. After getting more information from him, he quickly left while the latter was greeting other customers.

The jackal walked out of the bookstore through the sparse crowd. He squeezed the magazine in his hand, letting the sunlight fall on his face as he chewed over the beautiful yet terrifying stories inside. Suddenly, a strange thought crossed the killer's mind:

Could these stories be true?

In the warm sunshine, the killer inexplicably felt a chill, as if something was blocking his chest and taking root in his lungs. The intuition cultivated by his long experience in dangerous places was roaring wildly, telling him to flee from here quickly!

"……How can this be?"

The jackal shook his head in self-mockery and stepped deeper into the town of Arkham - he had to carefully observe the residents and people coming and going in Hill Manor to gather intelligence. It would be best to stay away from him, as it would be safer and more convenient.

In this case, we need to find a place where we can see Hill Manor clearly...but there are no high-rise buildings in the entire town of Arkham!

The tallest buildings were only the town hall and the school, and that damn house was even built on a hill! From a distance, all you could see was the old and eerie house, even in the sunlight, standing vaguely in a remote place.

The distorted light, the faint mist, and even the resistance that comes from human instinct all tell of the abnormality of the mansion. The jackal looked at Hill Manor, feeling only bursts of tingling in his mind and tiny whispers flashing by his ears.

"...Did we sit in the car for too long?" The jackal frowned, looking away and gulping down his now-cold coffee. "We need to think of another way."

If you want to see Hill Manor clearly, you have to get close enough or simply go from the direction of the forest.

As for the forest... Jackal knew that Blackwater International Military Contracting Company, a subsidiary of Atlas Corporation, had a training base in Arkham Forest. He didn't want to run into the hands of elite PMCs with wolfhounds and night vision/thermal imaging equipment.

After much thought, the jackal sighed and decided to go to Hill Villa at night.

With helpless steps, the jackal walked past the ubiquitous cameras, completely unaware that those things were staring at his back. He only turned back slowly after turning the corner.

At the same time, in the study of Hill Villa.

Rhodes picked up the coffee and raised his eyebrows at the middle-aged man sitting in front of him. The latter's face showed vicissitudes and fatigue, but deep in his eyes was an unspoken gratitude.

Turning his head to glance at the image transmitted on the computer screen, Rhode carefully examined the face on it, then put down the cup and said with a smile:

"Hello, Mr. John Wick, welcome to Hill House."

Chapter 350: John Wick? The Chulisas Assassin?

Sunlight slanted in through the gaps in the curtains of the Hill Villa study, casting a shadow on the man behind the desk. His shadow extended all the way to the door, covering the scattered books and paper documents.

"I didn't expect that the famous John Wick would be willing to help and bring such important information."

Rhode said with a smile. Nikki D stood beside him. She introduced him to the legendary assassin, John, who was willing to join the Army Without Borders and become the Black Crow of the Nineteenth Bureau, the secret assassination agency of the Army Without Borders. (Chapter 239)

"It's just information you already knew," John shook his head. His tone softened a little, and a smile appeared on his lips. "My wife Helen offered you her help. She has been transferred from the ICU to the general care ward. The operation was successful."

"But I still hope you understand one thing, Mr. John. The Army Without Borders has no intention of using your wife as a threat. It's meaningless and worthless. You may be an excellent killer, but for our work... it's not worth mentioning."

Rhodes crossed his fingers and placed them in front of his lips, his eyes filled with seriousness:

"These abilities of yours are not even comparable to your status as a powerful psychic. At least the latter can help us find more supernatural intelligence."

Because of his identity as a powerful psychic, Rhodes felt that it was a waste of his talent for him to become a killer... Suddenly, he had a bold idea.

"I see."

John Wicker suppressed his smile and nodded seriously.

Before coming here, the man had trimmed his beard and wore a neat suit - he looked completely different from the savior in the Matrix world (The Matrix), or the Hellblazer (Constantine), or the rock kid who wanted to burn the city to ashes (Cyberpunk 2077).

"In fact, I had already been in contact with Ms Diana from the ICA and Ms D before my wife Helen was admitted to the hospital. I rejected their offer at the time and did not ask for help even after Helen was admitted."

John lowered his eyes, his chest heaving a few times, as if recalling some horrible memories:

"But one time, when I was going home from the hospital to get something, I saw... that thing... How should I describe it? A monster, a bipedal creature like a silverfish? It dragged a homeless person into the wall of the bridge, and I almost got away."

"There have been many cases of missing homeless people in your city," Rhodes sighed. He took out the [Shiting Box] and looked at the incident records that Alona had brought. Then he slowly said:

"You're lucky. Even the paranormal investigators from the Army Without Borders nearly got trapped. In the end, we sealed the area with cement and relocated the road bridge. There haven't been any more disappearances since then. It's probably because the unstable rift in the otherworld 'healed' on its own, preventing the monster from finding a chance to escape."

"Later, I started some investigations and was subsequently noticed by intelligence officers from the Army Without Borders," John said, sighing softly as his face deepened in melancholy. "I never imagined the world I live in is so dangerous. Because of Helen, I paid a huge price to leave the ICA, only to hear this when she was critically ill..."

"That's why you changed your mind."

"Yes," John nodded, "I must protect those I love, even if it means venturing deeper into darkness."

"That's a harsh thing to say, Mr. John. We are the party of light."

Rhodes said with a smile, as if he had completely forgotten about the trivial matters he had recently asked Atlas Corporation and Aperture Technology to plant secret doors in civilian equipment and the Internet, and to approve the use of serious criminals for human experiments and containment testing of creatures from the other world.

"Everything we do is to protect humanity, even if some people don't understand. Of course, we don't need them to understand."

Looking at John Wick's expression, which seemed like he was back in a familiar workplace, Rhode rubbed his temples with a hand, muttering something inwardly, and continued:

"Tell me about yourself. I'm planning to have you join the 'Nineteenth Bureau.' While you'll still be conducting assassinations and undercover investigations, your targets will be slightly different—you'll be targeting clairvoyants or otherworldly artifacts that are difficult to retrieve."

Having said this, Rhodes stood up and pulled out a few yellow file bags from the pile of documents next to him. After checking the contents, he took out a photo and handed it to John, explaining:

"This man wearing a silver mask named 'Chaos' is the leader of the otherworldly terrorist organization, Ibris. He can control evil forces by interpreting spells. He's also a medium or cult leader associated with certain politicians..."

"These people are potential targets for elimination, but it's inconvenient to publicly mobilize the Army Without Borders' military forces, not to mention the potential for trouble. We can't mobilize fleets and armored divisions to directly attack a country, right? We'll talk about the future later, but for now, the Army Without Borders is just an armed organization dedicated to dealing with supernatural forces, not the United Earth Government (UEG)."

In Rhode's vision, he needed some kind of assassin similar to the Chulisas in Warhammer, especially in the future when clairvoyants would undoubtedly increase in number. The main problem now was that Rhode hadn't discovered the otherworldly version of the "Untouchables," so he could only use clairvoyants combined with specialized equipment and weapons to achieve his goal.

"……I see."

John frowned as he stared down at the photo in his hand. Even without seeing the person in person, he could sense the person's unnaturalness through the thin cardboard, as if he were looking at a living corpse.

"But I don't know how to kill this kind of creature," John said aloud. He handed the photo back to Rhodes. "Bullets? Or rockets?"

"You need to learn the knowledge of fighting against creatures from the otherworld, specific exorcism spells, and be familiar with the weapons and equipment you use—[Blackstone Bullets], [Blackstone Resonance Field Generator], [Anti-Mind Pollution Potion], etc.—These are things we are currently developing, but due to the scarcity of raw materials, you will have to wait a while."

John: "...which means I don't have the right weapons or equipment right now."

"But you don't have a suitable job right now, do you? So, why don't you go to university for two years, Legend Killer? I'll give you an auditing permit," Rhodes teased, crossing his arms over his chest and carefully studying the hesitant man in front of him. "However, you still need to disguise yourself during class, and I'll notify the university."

Hearing this, John Wickerton felt a headache. He had been away from school for decades, and now he had to be thrown back to take classes with a group of young people... Forget it, the boss of the Army Without Borders in front of him offered a high price, so he might as well consider it as for his wife.

After quickly reviewing the previous and subsequent events in his mind, John nodded and accepted Rhodes' invitation:

"I understand. I'll do it. But, do we really not need to care about those people secretly issuing assassination and investigation contracts against you? Even retired assassins like me receive contracts... I can eliminate some potential threats for you."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just short of some materials and testers for the experiment."

Rhodes didn't take it seriously. This was clearly an act of the Organization, most likely to annoy Ains. It certainly wasn't just a small move against him; there would be plenty of other overt and covert confrontations as well. There was no need to be impatient. After all, based on Rhodes's fragmented memories and his understanding of them, the probability of this group of people killing him was almost 100%. He just needed to intervene quickly to prevent the disaster from escalating.

This sounds like the black humor of Confucius's "Time flies like an arrow, never ceasing day or night", but compared with directly declaring a war on a global scale, it is also a safe option.

The only thing that made him feel a little bit troubled was the CIA. These people seemed to have found a clue about the Paris incident, and now he didn't know which senior agent was leading the investigation, and they seemed to be relentless.

"Oh, by the way," Rhodes threw his worries aside, looked at John, and asked with a smile, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"...What's the matter?"

"There's a killer, a killer as good as you, who has come to the town of Arkham."

Rhodes turned the LCD screen on the table so that John could see the male face on it clearly - the face of the Jackal - this legendary killer was not very lucky. The mission information was sent to the ICA by a client who intended to default on the debt. The latter's information was quickly sent to Rhodes along with other killers by Diana, who was gradually taking control of the ICA.

Although there was only some information about the mission's time limit, start time, and location, it was enough to save Rhodes's team a lot of trouble.

All that remains is to monitor the outsiders in Arkham Town, identify them uniformly, and send the closest suspicious targets to Rhodes.

To be more precise, it was sent and transferred to the [Shiting Box] where Alona was. The latter could observe the outside world through the all-seeing eye mask and naturally could also call upon its built-in functions... But this girl always dozed off at work, which made Rhodes look forward to Prana's arrival.

"Well, are you interested in fighting him? It's right here, in Hill Villa. He will definitely come over."

"I'm old, but I can give it a try," John said, his lips curled up slightly. "This is my first job in the Army Without Borders."

"That's perfect! Atlas Corporation has just received a batch of high-performance bulletproof vests. Try them on, and then put on the Aperture Technology bulletproof suit. I don't believe that Freckles can pull out armor-piercing weapons to deal with you!"

Hearing these words, John couldn't help but feel a little sad for the colleague he had never met.

Chapter 351: The Jackal Being Chased (1/3)

The moonlight seeped into the land called Arkham like liquid mercury, cutting the forest and the mansion into fragmented and strange totems. Hill Manor was like the purest embodiment of darkness in the moonlight, even the two dim chandeliers on the porch could not help.

There was a light on in one room, but the curtains were drawn and a figure was faintly moving inside.

Putting away his binoculars, the Jackal crouched in the shadows of the distant forest, allowing his black tactical suit to blend in with the treetops. The legendary killer's gaze swept across the flat meadow and garden, catching only the remains of the withered winter rose plant swaying in the night breeze.

After glancing at his watch in the moonlight, the jackal exhaled slowly, then quickly bent over and trotted towards the mansion, following the shadows. As he approached, he rolled forward and leaped over the edge of the dim light.

The mansion's defenses were practically nonexistent, perhaps due to the mansion's confidence in its geographical location and internal surveillance equipment. Even so, the jackal kept his vigilance at the highest level.

There are many fools who died because of carelessness and arrogance, and he doesn't want to be the next one - Nuria (the jackal's wife in the play) and Carlitos (the son) are still waiting for him to return!

"..."

The jackal breathed a sigh of relief. He straightened up carefully, took out a small camera and peered through the window that was left a gap in the corridor on the first floor. He looked around but found nothing unusual - it was all dark inside, and there was only one corridor light at the end of the corridor.