Chapter 101: Veiled Desires Unveiled
January 17
"Just as I thought!"
The inexplicable phone call confirmed Hunter's suspicions.
Earlier, he had discovered the hotel was throttling his internet speed, so he used a tool from Lyle to bypass the limit.
Shortly after, his computer was counter-hacked.
Although the intruder withdrew quickly, the hotel called immediately after.
Hunter now knew for certain: the hotel he was staying in belonged to the Russian mob from The Equalizer—the same syndicate that controlled Teri.
Countless thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant.
He smiled and answered, "Sure, I'm very interested in your luxury goods!"
The voice on the phone replied immediately, "No problem, honored guest. We will send the goods to your room shortly."
Knowing the hotel staff was likely monitoring him—and might have tampered with his laptop—Hunter lost interest in browsing the web. He lay down on the bed to wait.
Not long after, there was a knock at the door.
Hunter moved to get up and answer it.
But before he could, he heard the click of a key card. The door opened from the outside.
Hunter raised an eyebrow. These Russians really didn't stand on ceremony.
"Sir, your goods have arrived."
Just as Hunter stood up from the bed, two large men in suits walked in.
Each was gripping a girl by the arm, forcefully escorting two scantily clad, sexy young women into his room.
One look, and Hunter's eyelid twitched.
Was Boston too small? Or was Moscow Nights too small?
Hunter hadn't expected that Teri, whom he had met just over two hours ago at the diner, would be one of the girls delivered to his room.
Alongside her was a slender, blonde girl.
Teri's face was full of reluctance. She had clearly been dragged here against her will.
She thought she was being forced to serve some corrupt politician or perverted businessman again.
But the moment she entered the room...
She recognized the man.
It was the young guy who had left such a deep impression on her at dinner earlier.
It was hard for Teri to forget him.
Asians were a minority in Boston. Finding one who was young, handsome, and claimed to be a magician offering to take her away?
That was the stuff of fairytales. Back when she still had hope, she used to dream of a handsome prince saving her from this hellhole.
Who would have thought...
A few hours later, she would see him here, at Moscow Nights.
Thinking that this man—who had the face of a prince—was just another john desperate to sleep with her...
Teri suddenly felt ridiculous for having worried about his offer all evening.
"Heh. Men."
Moscow Nights was nominally a hotel.
But insiders knew it was the biggest, most chaotic nightclub in Boston.
The hotel was just a front. The club was on the upper floors.
The hotel rooms below served as cover—and a convenient place for guests to stay the night with their "entertainment."
Hunter keenly observed the complex changes in Teri's expression after she recognized him.
From shock and surprise, to resignation and disappointment, and finally to disgust and despair.
The anger of being forced here faded into dead, stagnant water.
He took it all in silently but said nothing.
"Small world."
Hunter knew these two girls were bait. The Russian mob was using them to test him.
He had briefly breached their network security. Although their tech guys patched it and counter-hacked him, the mob was likely suspicious of his identity.
"Bad luck for you, Teri."
"I originally wanted to do a good deed for free."
"Now... it seems my good deed has turned into a paid service."
Under the scrutiny of the two large, serious men in black suits, Hunter showed no discomfort.
"Thank you. I'm very satisfied with your hotel's luxury goods!"
The two mob enforcers nodded, retracting their scrutinizing gazes.
"Have a pleasant evening, sir."
With that, they turned and left without dragging things out.
It seemed that even though they were suspicious, these Russians couldn't resist the allure of the almighty dollar as long as Hunter didn't prove to be an enemy.
The moment Hunter put his arm around Teri's waist, her body stiffened.
She huffed coldly, turning her face away without a word.
The blonde girl, however, was much more proactive.
Even while the enforcers were still in the room, she had been a bit reserved. But once they left, her hands began to wander. She actively linked arms with Hunter.
She gently stroked the solid muscles of his arm.
"Do you work out often, boss? Such firm muscles."
Hunter raised an eyebrow. He knew the room had cameras.
So, saying nothing more, he pulled both the willing and the unwilling girl close.
He turned off the lights and got busy.
The room plunged into darkness, but the air grew thick with tension and anticipation. Hunter guided them to the bed, his hands firm yet gentle, sensing the contrasting energies between the two women. The blonde was eager, her body pressing against his with practiced seduction, her fingers tracing lines of fire down his chest as she whispered encouragements in his ear. Teri, however, was rigid at first, her reluctance a barrier that Hunter navigated with patience, his touch coaxing rather than demanding.
As clothes were shed in the dim glow from the window, the blonde took the lead, her lips finding Hunter's in a heated kiss that deepened quickly, tongues intertwining with raw hunger. She straddled him, her curves molding to his frame, grinding slowly to build the rhythm. Hunter's hands explored her, gripping her hips and pulling her closer, the sensation of her warmth enveloping him like a vice. Teri watched for a moment, her breath hitching, before Hunter drew her in, his mouth claiming hers in a softer, more insistent kiss that melted her resistance. The chemistry ignited—a tangle of limbs, gasps, and moans as the three bodies moved in sync.
The blonde's enthusiasm drove the pace, her nails raking down Hunter's back as she rode him with abandon, her cries echoing in the room. Teri, caught in the intensity, surrendered to the moment, her hands roaming over both of them, her body arching as Hunter's fingers and lips teased her sensitive spots. Sensations built in waves: the slick slide of skin on skin, the pulse of pleasure as positions shifted, Hunter taking control to satisfy both women. Teri's initial stiffness gave way to passion, her moans mingling with the blonde's as they peaked together, bodies shuddering in release. The night stretched into a haze of exhaustion and ecstasy, leaving them all breathless and entwined.
The night passed quickly in a flurry of activity.
As soon as dawn broke, Hunter's biological clock woke him up.
"Mmm."
With a soft grunt, he slowly extricated his numb arms from under the girls.
Hunter stepped out of bed carefully, narrowly avoiding stepping on a used wrapper.
He put on his slippers and headed for the bathroom
Chapter 102: Cracking the Safe
January 18
Cold water sprayed from the showerhead, constantly rinsing Hunter's body.
Feeling the chill of Boston's tap water in June, Hunter's overheated body quickly cooled down.
His brain also returned to high-efficiency operation.
Originally, encountering Teri—who looked remarkably like Hit-Girl—in Boston was an accident.
Hunter had felt a sudden burst of kindness and decided to do a good deed for the day.
He planned to take Teri with him when he left Boston.
He would drop her off in a safe, unfamiliar city, allowing her to start a brand new life.
Who would have thought Boston was so small, and Moscow Nights even smaller?
Last night, while browsing the internet at the hotel, he got annoyed by the slow speed.
Realizing the hotel was throttling the connection, he used the tool from Lyle (the top-tier hacker) to bypass the restriction on his room's network.
Unexpectedly, this move attracted the attention of the Russian mob behind the hotel.
Not only did their tech team hack his computer in retaliation, but they also sent two women over, seemingly to test his identity.
Of course, Hunter also suspected they wanted to gather blackmail material on him.
Anyway!
Last night, the Russians sent two girls.
One of them was Teri—the very girl Hunter intended to save as his "good deed."
To avoid arousing suspicion—since Moscow Nightswas likely a mob asset—Hunter didn't reject the girls. Especially since Teri didn't resist.
The result was that he spent a rather enjoyable night in Boston.
"Phew!"
Finishing his cold shower, Hunter grabbed a clean towel and draped it over himself.
Drying his wet hair, he walked toward the phone.
Teri and the blonde were still sound asleep.
In the last few days, Hunter had awakened several new skills and leveled up existing ones.
Having gained over a dozen free attribute points, his physical fitness had improved significantly.
Consequently, he hadn't controlled his intensity well last night.
Glancing at the girls sleeping deeply on the bed, Hunter quickly dressed.
Taking his laptop—which might now contain spyware—he left the hotel and headed for the docks.
Judging by Teri's behavior last night, she probably saw him as a pervert who was just lusting after her, acting on impulse.
Although a series of events led to this misunderstanding...
Hunter, who originally planned to do a selfless deed without expecting anything in return, had now collected his "reward" in advance.
Initially, his mindset was: "If I can save her, great. If not, whatever."
But now, he felt obligated to be serious.
He decided that when he left Boston, he would definitely take Teri with him.
Arriving near the docks—the same area where he delivered the goods yesterday—Hunter scouted for a bit.
He eventually chose a warehouse that looked like it hadn't been used in a long time.
He scanned the surroundings.
No cameras. No footsteps or voices of passersby.
He pulled a metal pick from his Inventory.
With practiced ease, Hunter opened the warehouse lock in seconds.
He slipped inside and closed the door behind him.
The inland dock warehouse was dusty from disuse.
Hunter's footsteps left a trail in the thick dust on the floor.
But he didn't care.
The warehouse was empty. Even if someone discovered footprints later, they likely wouldn't care about an intruder in an empty building.
Hunter had a specific reason for coming here.
Recently, with the help of the beautiful safecracker Stella, his [Lockpicking] skill had reached Lv 5.
Hunter now had the ability to open the top-tier private safes he had stolen from Steve's villa.
Thinking about the contents...
Nearly one ton of gold bars could be hiding inside.
Hunter's heart burned with anticipation. He had made the decision last night.
Taking advantage of being in Boston, far away from Los Angeles, he would crack these safes. He would extract the gold and store it separately in his Inventory.
He reached out his hand. With a thought...
The air shimmered.
A massive alloy safe appeared before him.
"The Worthington 1000..."
This was one of the premier private safes tailored for America's ultra-wealthy by the renowned Worthington Security Company.
Each safe weighed over 1.6 tons. Without a crane, they were immovable.
It was 2.2 meters high, 1.4 meters wide, and 70 centimeters deep.
Reportedly, the walls were an astonishing 12 centimeters thick, made of top-tier carbon-titanium alloy with extreme corrosion resistance.
Furthermore, if tampered with incorrectly, the safe would initiate a lockdown mode, turning into a solid block of metal that could only be reset by a Worthington tech team.
To open it, besides the specialized key...
You needed a passcode and a retinal scan.
And the Worthington 1000 came with a built-in GPS tracking system.
It was said to ping the client's terminal with its location at regular intervals.
When Hunter first stole them from Steve, he had only dared to take them out briefly in his apartment to admire them before stowing them away again.
Just as the company advertised, this beast was one of the best private safes in the world.
Its complexity and security were second only to the vaults of major banks and casinos.
For an ordinary person, stealing and opening this forcefully without heavy machinery and lots of time was impossible.
Unfortunately!
Worthington clearly hadn't considered one possibility.
That one day, their product would be targeted by a transmigrator with a System cheat.
Chapter 103: Three Security Locks, Successfully Opened
New
January 19
Hunter's gaze lingered on the newly retrieved safe for only a moment before he got to work.
He pulled another set of tools from his Inventory.
To fully open this top-tier Worthington 1000 private safe, one needed to bypass three security systems—commonly known as the "Three Locks."
The first lock was a physical key mechanism.
The second was a mechanical combination dial.
And the third was a digital keypad, which likely also required Steve's retinal scan for verification.
The first lock was undoubtedly the easiest for Hunter.
He leaned in to inspect the keyway, a smile quickly forming on his face.
The Worthington 1000 required a custom-made key to disengage the initial security layer.
But for Hunter, whose [Lockpicking] skill had reached Lv 5, this was child's play.
He swiftly took out a specialized pick tool and probed the keyway.
After determining the position and depth of every pin inside...
Hunter rummaged through his toolkit and found a set of alloy key blanks he had custom-ordered during his training at Stella's farm.
He selected the blank that most closely matched the Worthington 1000's profile.
Then, using a pair of metal clippers, he rapidly cut notches into the key based on his mental map of the lock.
A few quick passes with a file to smooth the edges...
In less than two minutes, Hunter had fabricated a working key on the spot.
He inserted the newly made key into the Worthington 1000's lock and turned it gently.
Click.
With a crisp sound, the first lock of the world's premier private safe was open.
However, this was merely the easiest of the three.
Hunter felt no pride in this small victory.
He stored the unnecessary tools back in his Inventory and pulled out a stethoscope.
Placing the earpieces in his ears, he pressed the diaphragm against the cold alloy of the safe door.
Then, he began to turn the mechanical combination dial with infinite care.
The second lock—the mechanical combination—was a standard anti-theft device found on high-end safes and vaults.
It consisted of a dial, a spindle, drive cams, a fence, and a drop lever, all interacting deep within the safe's thick alloy wall.
Unlike the massive vaults in banks or casinos, which often used multiple dials...
The Worthington 1000, limited by its size, used a single dial with a complex internal wheel pack.
Cracking it wasn't overly difficult, just time-consuming.
The real trouble lay with the final digital lock.
Hunter spun the dial back and forth, listening intently for the telltale click of the gates aligning within the wheel pack.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Ding!
After two or three minutes of intense concentration and manipulation...
Hunter confirmed the correct combination sequence.
He memorized the numbers immediately. Then, his gaze shifted to the safe's final line of defense: the digital keypad.
The Worthington 1000's digital lock looked simple.
It required a six-digit code. At first glance, Hunter noticed something interesting.
Only four of the number keys showed signs of wear.
The other keys—except for "Enter"—looked brand new.
This meant Hunter only needed to test the various permutations of those four digits. With enough time, he would crack it eventually.
He stared closely at the worn keys: 0, 2, 5, 7.
Observing the degree of fading on each, Hunter noted that 0 and 5 were significantly more worn than 2 and 7.
In other words, in the six-digit code Steve had set...
The digits 0 and 5 were likely repeated at least once each.
Armed with this deduction, Hunter began mentally arranging the numbers 0, 2, 5, and 7 into possible combinations.
Within moments, he had narrowed it down to a few dozen likely codes.
However, Hunter glanced at the small screen above the keypad.
He knew the Worthington 1000 system offered a retinal scan feature.
If Steve had enabled that, this safe didn't just have three locks—it had four.
"Can't gamble on it."
Hunter stared at the screen for a moment.
He pulled out another set of tools. Carefully, he began to work on the hairline seam around the keypad housing.
After a while, he managed to widen the gap.
Relying on his Lv 5 skill, he pried the keypad housing open bit by bit, moving with extreme caution.
He knew the Worthington 1000 had an automatic lockdown failsafe (a "relocker").
If the system detected multiple failed passcode attempts or brute force tampering, the relocker would engage, driving hardened steel bolts into the mechanism and sealing the safe permanently.
Simultaneously, it would trigger a silent alarm, transmit video footage to Worthington HQ, and broadcast its GPS coordinates.
Hunter didn't want unnecessary trouble. Following Stella's teachings, he bypassed the brute force approach.
He lifted the keypad housing just enough to peek underneath.
Sure enough, besides a few wires, there was a thin, almost invisible filament wire connected to a tamper sensor chip.
Hunter took a pair of wire cutters.
Snip.
He cut the power wires and the sensor filament simultaneously.
Instantly, a faint hum that had been emanating from the safe's electronics died out.
The electronic lock was now dead—defaulted to "open" or bypassed entirely by cutting the solenoid control.
Hunter's heart skipped a beat.
He re-inserted the key into the first lock and turned it.
Then, he spun the mechanical dial to the correct combination he had deciphered earlier.
Hiss...
With the sound of a pneumatic seal releasing...
The safe Hunter had stolen from Steve finally swung open.
Chapter 104: Only Wealth Can Cure All Sorrows
New
5 days ago
"It's open!"
Hunter's hand, gripping the handle of the safe, trembled uncontrollably with excitement.
Although he was a transmigrator with a System cheat...
In his past life, he was just an ordinary office worker and movie buff.
Across two lifetimes, the most money he had ever made was the $600,000 Dom paid him a couple of days ago for delivering the stolen goods to Boston.
Even with just that $600,000, Hunter knew his strength could soar if he invested it wisely.
After all, he had possessed the proficiency system for nearly three months.
He had long discovered that gaining XP for many skills didn't just cost time.
It also consumed a lot of materials.
Moreover, if he wanted to level up quickly...
Hiring experts and masters for one-on-one tutoring was the best shortcut.
And all of that cost money!
That was why he had taken the risk.
Before Charlie and his team could execute their revenge on Steve, Hunter had preemptively stolen the two safes—suspected to contain nearly a ton of gold—from Steve's villa.
And now, it was harvest time.
Thinking of this, he could no longer suppress the pounding in his chest.
Hunter took a deep breath.
Then, he yanked the handle.
The heavy safe door, weighing over a hundred pounds on its own, swung open.
Instantly, a dazzling golden brilliance flooded out, so bright Hunter had to squint.
"Gold bars..."
"So many gold bars..."
"It's all gold..."
His eyes swept over the contents of the safe.
His breathing became heavy.
In two lifetimes, this was the first time he had seen so many "little cuties."
The rows of glittering yellow bricks were dizzying.
Hunter's eyes turned red, and his face flushed with excitement.
He reached out with both hands and picked up a gold bar in each.
The heavy weight in his hands filled him with immense satisfaction.
"This density... definitely over ten kilos."
Noticing something unique about the bar, Hunter inspected it closely.
Stamped onto the surface by a master engraver was the image of a sexy, charming Balinese dancer.
The engraving added a touch of artistry to the raw wealth.
Calling it a work of art wasn't an exaggeration.
But Hunter's gaze only lingered on the dancer for a moment.
He flipped the bar over without hesitation to check the specifications.
There, stamped clearly, was a line of text.
"400 oz. t"
"It's a 400-ounce standard bar!"
The ounce (troy ounce) was a common unit of measurement in the West for precious metals.
One troy ounce was approximately 31.1035 grams.
The "400 oz" bar was the standard "Good Delivery" bar used in international markets. Its dimensions were typically 185mm x 76mm x 17mm.
It weighed 400 troy ounces, or approximately 12.441 kilograms.
Such bars generally had a purity of 99.5% or higher.
Hunter had transmigrated to 2003.
He had checked gold prices recently.
Right now, gold was trading at around $390 per ounce.
In other words, a single one of these 400-ounce bars...
Was worth over $150,000 just in raw gold value.
And clearly, there wasn't just one such bar in the two safes he stole from Steve.
Suppressing his excitement, he hurriedly began transferring the bars one by one.
From Steve's safe into his much more secure Personal Inventory.
As he moved them, he counted.
"1, 2, 3..."
"78, 79, 80..."
"182..."
"Just as I guessed!"
"The total weight of the gold Charlie's crew stole from the Italian mob in Venice was definitely more than one ton."
Hunter had been puzzled before.
He remembered The Italian Job movie mentioning the gold's value was over $37 million.
But after arriving in this world and checking the 2003 gold prices ($390/oz)...
If they had only stolen one ton of gold, the value would be at most $12-13 million.
He had wondered if it was a plot hole or if he remembered wrong.
Now it seemed there was no plot hole.
Hunter had just underestimated the haul.
Charlie's crew had stolen far more than a ton from the gangsters in Venice a year ago.
Just the 182 bars in this first safe were worth over $28 million at current prices.
And he still had another safe to open.
Hunter's breathing became ragged.
He quickly stored the now-empty Worthington 1000 safe into his Inventory.
Even empty, the safe itself was worth tens of thousands.
Whether he repaired it to sell on the black market or kept it for personal use, it was valuable.
Then, he pulled out the second Worthington 1000 safe he stole from Steve.
With his previous experience, it only took him seven or eight minutes to crack this one.
Full of anticipation, Hunter pulled the door open.
When he saw the contents, he paused for a moment, then began counting happily.
The second safe didn't have as many gold bars as the first.
Hunter counted quickly. There were only 29 bars here.
Adding them to the 182 from the first safe, he had a total of 211 of these 400-ounce behemoths.
At current prices, the gold alone was worth nearly $33 million.
But what excited Hunter even more was that the second safe contained more than just gold.
Stacks of "Benjamins"—$100 bills—were piled inside.
There were also several bundles of €500 notes.
Besides the cash, there were six luxury watches, a bag of diamonds weighing over 100 grams (2 liang), several property deeds, and some bearer bonds.
Hunter made a rough estimate. The total value of the loot from the two safes definitely exceeded $40 million.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say he had stolen almost all of Steve's liquid assets.
Suddenly, Hunter understood everything.
"No wonder Steve went crazy."
"No wonder he used every connection to find Stella and kidnap her to force Charlie out."
"I stole his entire fortune."
"If I were him, I'd go mad too!"
Chapter 105: Preparation, Buying Guns
New
4 days ago
"Hit the jackpot!"
Hunter knew perfectly well that the "over $40 million" figure he estimated from Steve's safes wasn't entirely liquid.
The reason was simple: Steve's real estate and property deeds.
Even with the deeds in hand, Hunter couldn't legally claim those properties.
After the explosions at his villa, Steve had fled but was immediately put on the LAPD's wanted list.
Later, Hunter assassinated him with the crossbow.
But Steve was already a fugitive by then.
His assets, especially real estate, had likely been frozen or flagged by the authorities.
The deeds Hunter found were effectively worthless paper.
But even so, he didn't feel a pinch of regret.
Because even after deducting the real estate...
The gold bars and other valuables in the two safes were still worth over $36-37 million.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that Hunter had seized the vast majority of Steve's accumulated wealth.
Just the cash in the safes amounted to over $1.7 million.
Add to that the $600,000 from Dom for the Boston delivery...
Even if Hunter didn't sell the 200+ gold bars immediately, he had more than enough cash on hand to power-level his skills.
Naturally, his mood soared.
Hunter quickly emptied the second safe, storing everything into his Personal Inventory.
Then, he stored the empty Worthington 1000 safe as well.
Although he had guessed beforehand that the safes might contain over $20 million in gold...
Actually stealing them, opening them, and seeing the massive payout with his own eyes made him delirious with excitement.
$36 million in gold. Luxury watches. Diamonds. Bearer bonds.
A single risky adventure had turned the penniless Hunter into a tycoon overnight.
This success stirred ambitious thoughts in his mind.
"Looks like I need to pay more attention to the news in this world."
"Since it's confirmed that Fast & Furious, The Italian Job, Léon: The Professional, and The Equalizerall coexist here..."
"There must be even more movie plots integrated into this reality."
"And hidden within them... more treasures and fortunes waiting for me to find."
Thinking of this, his heart pounded violently against his ribs.
He didn't stay in the warehouse long. He locked it up again and slipped away quietly.
Hunter didn't return to the Moscow Nights hotel immediately. Instead, he wandered around Boston.
He visited auto parts stores to restock supplies.
Then, taking advantage of his gun license, he visited a local firearms superstore.
He spent over $30,000 there.
He bought a brand-new Remington M870 shotgun, along with three extended magazine tubes (increasing capacity to 7 rounds) and over 200 shotgun shells. The total cost was just over $1,700.
He also purchased an Armalite AR-15 semi-automatic rifle. This was the best-selling rifle in America.
The base model cost less than $1,000.
But Hunter didn't buy the base model. He went for the top-tier configuration: 25-round magazines, a suppressor (if legal/available), a solid wood stock, custom grips, and a high-end infrared scope.
According to the enthusiastic shop owner, this rifle possessed accuracy and stability rivaling the M1A at 200 yards (183 meters).
It maintained high precision even at 600 yards (549 meters).
In the hands of an expert, it could accurately hit targets at 800 yards (732 meters).
Lacking the heavy recoil of traditional battle rifles, it was an excellent sporting and hunting weapon.
If he could, Hunter would have preferred a professional military or police sniper rifle.
But in legitimate US gun stores, purchasing such weapons required submitting applications and waiting for federal background checks and approval.
That process took at least half a month.
Hunter couldn't wait that long in Boston.
He knew he could probably find military-grade sniper rifles in black market shops without the paperwork...
But as a stranger in Boston, he didn't have the connections to find those channels quickly.
He decided to shelf that idea until he returned to LA, where he could use his contacts to buy heavier firepower.
Since money was no longer an issue, Hunter happily dropped over $20,000 on the fully kitted-out 7.62mm Armalite AR-15.
He also bought several boxes of ammo and replenished his stock of bolts for the Tactical Crossbow.
Loaded up, he left the gun store and continued to wander the city.
Time passed slowly.
In the afternoon, Hunter returned to Moscow Nights.
He went to the front desk, checked out early, and left the hotel for good.
Once he was a safe distance away, he followed a route he had scouted earlier to a secluded spot by the sea.
He pulled his vintage motorcycle from his Inventory.
Practiced hands swapped the license plate for a fake one. Then, he repainted the bike's livery again.
After ensuring the area was clear, he began applying makeup to disguise his face.
The sun dipped lower in the sky.
By 5:00 PM...
Hunter looked in the mirror. With exaggerated, rebellious makeup and a wig of messy, multicolored hair, it was almost impossible to tell his original race, let alone his identity. Satisfied, he stored the mirror away.
"Next step: pick up Teri."
He wasn't sure if she would show up.
After seeing him at Moscow Nights last night, Teri likely viewed him as just another shameless john who only wanted her body.
But regardless, Hunter decided to keep his promise.
He planned to go to the family diner where he met her yesterday.
If he found her, he would take her away—by force if necessary.
Today, Hunter was taking Teri out of Boston.
With a roar of the engine, looking like a washed-up hippie, he sped off into the sunset.
Chapter 106: Three Days
New
3 days ago
Hunter parked his motorcycle by the curb and looked at the diner in front of him.
Without hesitation, ignoring the strange and even disgusted looks from passersby, he walked inside.
"Welco... uh..."
The owner started to say "Welcome," as usual.
But seeing Hunter's exaggerated hippie getup, he stopped.
The disgust was palpable. Even a shopkeeper eager for business couldn't help but shut his mouth.
Hunter noticed it instantly. The moment he stepped in, every diner turned to look at him.
Their eyes were filled with disdain, mockery, or revulsion.
But Hunter didn't care.
This was exactly the effect his disguise was meant to achieve.
He shouted rudely, "Give me a large beef and bacon burger! And a lemon soda!"
The owner snapped out of it and nodded quickly. "Right away."
Hunter sat down at a table near the entrance.
He scanned the room, making his gaze look arrogant and aggressive.
His disguise was working well.
The over-the-top hippie look screamed "troublemaker" or "delinquent."
This family diner mostly served local workers and ordinary folks.
Hunter had been in this world's America for almost three months.
He knew that despite its reputation as the "Beacon of the World," the US had complex internal issues.
But not everyone was a gun-toting maniac looking for a fight.
Most people were ordinary citizens afraid of trouble.
Unless provoked, no one wanted to mess with a punk who looked like he belonged to a gang.
Hunter scanned the diner again, frowning slightly.
It was close to dinner time, but Teri hadn't shown up.
He decided to wait patiently while eating his meal.
He waited until 7:30 PM.
He even saw the bald, muscular black man—the protagonist of The Equalizer—come in for dinner.
Hunter exchanged glances with Robert McCall a few times.
But Teri never appeared.
"Disappointed in me?"
"Or did she never believe my lie in the first place?"
Hunter didn't know why she hadn't come.
Realizing she wasn't going to show, he decisively paid the bill.
Then, he got on his bike and left.
That night, Hunter stayed at a motel near Chinatown.
Since he had decided to intervene and save Teri...
And since he had already collected his "payment"...
He was prepared to stay in Boston for two more days.
If Teri still didn't show up by then, he would leave.
After a comfortable night's sleep, Hunter left the motel early the next morning.
It was still early, so he found a fishing spot by the sea. He pulled his fishing rod from his Inventory.
He spent the day fishing happily, grinding a ton of XP for his [Fishing] skill.
Around 4:00 PM, Hunter packed up, satisfied with his day.
He found a secluded spot, reapplied his disguise, and headed back to the diner.
Again, he waited until almost 8:00 PM.
Teri still didn't show.
That night, Hunter switched to another motel.
The next day—the third day—he checked out at dawn.
Since he hadn't fully enjoyed the fishing yesterday, and the XP gain was good, he went back to the sea.
He fished until nearly 5:00 PM, reveling in the joy of his [Fishing] skill leveling up again.
Finally, somewhat reluctantly, he put away his rod. "Time to go."
Three times was the limit.
Tonight was the last chance Hunter would give Teri.
He was willing to do a good deed, but if she didn't grasp the opportunity...
He wasn't going to beg her to be saved.
If Teri appeared at the diner tonight, Hunter would take her away by force, helping her escape Boston and the Russian mob's control.
But if she didn't show, he would leave the city immediately.
Whether she continued to suffer as the mob's cash cow...
Or was eventually saved by The Equalizer's protagonist...
That was no longer Hunter's concern.
With this mindset, he applied the garish makeup again before heading to the diner.
He also swapped the fake license plate on his vintage motorcycle one last time.
Then, he set off.
"Mexican chicken wrap. And a lemon soda."
He ordered his usual meal.
Scanning the restaurant quickly, he confirmed Teri wasn't there. A hint of disappointment flashed in his eyes.
He pulled out a boxing magazine and flipped through it boredly.
Time ticked by, second by second.
6:00 PM. No Teri.
6:30 PM. Still no sign of her.
7:00 PM. Empty.
7:30 PM. Hunter packed up his magazine.
He stood up expressionless, exchanging one last glance with Robert McCall, who was reading in the corner.
Then, Hunter paid the bill.
Magazine in hand, he walked out of the diner.
"Heh."
Hunter looked up at the night sky and chuckled.
He finally wanted to do a good deed, but ended up waiting in vain for days.
"Forget it. Everyone has their own fate."
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, intending to light one.
But just then...
As he glanced down the street, he saw a solitary figure walking aimlessly.
It was a plump girl with bruises on her face.
It was Teri!
And she was heading straight for the diner.
Instantly, Hunter shoved the cigarettes back into his pocket.
He walked quickly to his bike parked on the side street.
Insert key. Ignition.
Skillfully turning the bike around, he rode toward Teri.
Chapter 107: Saving Teri
New
2 days ago
Teri stumbled slightly as she walked down the street.
She was a teenage prostitute, sold long ago to a Russian mob in Boston to become their cash cow.
In the crime-ridden United States, there were far too many so-called celebrities, politicians, and wealthy businessmen with perverted tastes.
Many of them were disgusting predators who preferred children.
And Teri had been specifically groomed and trained by the Russian mob.
She was a tool used to serve, bribe, and even entrap these elites for blackmail material.
At Moscow Nights, there were too many girls like Teri.
Most were the children of poor immigrants who didn't even know where they came from.
Others were bought from human traffickers in underdeveloped regions of Southeast Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa, then smuggled into the US.
But Teri was special.
She didn't remember much before she was seven or eight.
She vaguely recalled that she should be American.
Her father seemed to be a police officer.
And she had a younger sister.
The nightmare began one night.
A group of bad men broke into her home while her father and sister were away.
Her mother was shot and killed. Teri was bound, gagged, and blindfolded.
She was terrified.
After an unknown amount of time, the blindfold was removed.
She saw a group of people pointing at her and evaluating her like merchandise.
Then, a tall, muscular man raised a paddle.
Shortly after, she was blindfolded again.
When she was untied, she was in Boston, a tool for the Russian mob.
Day after day.
Every day was living in despair and hell.
Four days ago, in the evening, Teri met a man who left a deep impression on her.
He was an Asian man, rare in this part of the US.
He didn't look old; at least Teri felt he wasn't much older than her.
And he was incredibly handsome.
He made a strong first impression.
To get close to her, he had even used a laughable excuse about being a magician and wanting to take her away.
For a moment, influenced by his handsome face...
Teri had almost been moved.
Living in a demon's den, she dreamed of escape every single moment.
But who would have thought...
Just a few hours later, the mob ordered her and another girl to service a guest.
She followed numbly, only to find the same handsome Asian "prince" in a room at Moscow Nights.
The moment she saw him, her last fantasy shattered.
She was disappointed. Despairing.
That night, Teri hated herself.
She loathed the young Asian man for using her all night.
But what she hated even more was that, for the first time in forever, she had actually felt pleasure that night.
The next day brought more reasons to hate.
All day long, her body was sore and limp. Her legs were so weak she could barely stand.
By the third day, she felt slightly better.
But the swelling hadn't subsided.
The Russian mob, however, had no pity.
That night, a perverted city councilman obsessed with Teri came to visit. He requested her.
Teri felt unwell, so she refused.
The result was predictable. She was beaten.
Even though she was the mob's top earner, defying them meant punishment.
Today, Teri felt terrible all over.
She had been sent to the mob's private clinic for a day.
By evening, having not eaten for nearly two days, she was granted two hours of "relaxation" time.
She planned to go to her usual diner to fill her stomach.
But just as she stumbled toward the restaurant...
Hearing the low roar of a motorcycle engine, Teri looked over blankly.
She saw a biker who looked like a hippie stopping beside her.
Teri thought he recognized her profession and wanted a cheap thrill.
Just as she was about to snap at him, a voice that was both familiar and strange spoke from under the helmet.
"I've been waiting for you for three days. Get on. I'm taking you out of here."
Teri froze. The memory of that evening four days ago flooded back.
Before she could scrutinize him, he urged her again. "Hurry up. We don't have much time, Teri."
"Do you want to be controlled by them forever? Selling your body until you die?"
Teri trembled. Those words sent ripples through her dead heart.
Suddenly, this hippie biker seemed like a ray of light in the darkness, illuminating her soul.
"I..."
Teri hesitated for a split second, then gritted her teeth.
Ignoring the pain from her beating, she climbed onto the back of the motorcycle.
"Put this on. Hold on tight!"
Hunter pulled out a spare helmet and handed it to her.
Teri put it on obediently and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Hunter revved the engine and sped off, following the escape route he had scouted days ago, heading out of Boston.
Vroom!
Whether it was the roar of the engine or the wind whipping past as they accelerated... Teri suddenly realized what she had done.
After a moment of silence, she shouted over the noise.
"Who are you?!"
"Do you know what you've done?"
"My phone has tracking software!"
"And years ago, they surgically implanted a tracker in my body!"
"It pings my location every five minutes."
"Once they realize I'm moving away from Moscow Nights..."
"Or if I get too close to a station, a dock, or move at high speed... it triggers an alarm."
"They'll call to warn me. If I don't answer, they send a team to drag me back."
"We're finished!"
"You're finished too!"
"We can't escape!"
Chapter 108: Escaping the Metro Area
New
Yesterday
Hunter understood. Teri must have tried to escape the Russian mob controlling her before.
In fact, she had probably tried more than once.
Otherwise, he could understand tracking software on a phone.
But a surgically implanted tracker in her body?
That wasn't standard treatment for the average person.
Hunter hadn't unlocked any [Medicine] skills yet.
So even if he wanted to, he lacked the ability to remove the implant.
However, he had basic common sense.
"Trackers usually have a range limit!"
"Teri is just a low-level earner. The mob controlling her isn't the CIA."
"They can't possibly have dedicated satellites and military-grade equipment just to track a chip inside her."
"So, as long as I get her out of Boston in the shortest time possible..."
"We win."
With these thoughts flashing through his mind, Hunter didn't slow down.
He rode the motorcycle hard, speeding toward the city limits.
He didn't respond to Teri's earlier complaints. He knew she was speaking from a place of trauma and failure.
Repeated failures had driven this girl to despair.
Hunter shouted back at her, his tone firm and commanding.
"Take out your phone. Report the time to me every minute."
"When they call..."
"Tell me immediately!"
"And I'll tell you what to do."
Teri heard him clearly. She had been venting her hopelessness just moments ago.
But as the bike sped along the highway, and the distance from Moscow Nights—her prison for years—grew...
Teri's mood began to shift.
After a moment of silence behind Hunter...
With a rustling sound, she obeyed his instructions.
She pulled her phone from her waist bag. Holding it in one hand to watch the time, she wrapped her other arm tightly around Hunter's waist.
Teri had tried to escape before.
But every failure brought beatings and torture.
Eventually, her resistance faded into despair.
But this time... whether it succeeded or not...
Teri felt it was worth a try.
She didn't know why this young Asian man, whom she had only met twice—and whom she didn't even have a good impression of—was so obsessed with saving her.
But at least this time, she wasn't alone.
The feeling of being protected was something she hadn't experienced in forever.
Suddenly, Teri felt that even if they failed, it didn't matter.
At least she saw a glimmer of hope in the darkness.
Hunter gripped the handlebars, navigating the Boston streets rapidly.
He felt Teri's arm tighten around his waist.
He ignored it, focusing entirely on driving, trying to put as much distance between them and the city center as possible.
However, Boston was one of the oldest cities in the US.
It was the capital of Massachusetts and the largest city in the Northeast.
Moscow Nights was in a corner of the Greater Boston area. Hunter needed to cross the entire metro zone to exit from the west.
Their escape coincided with the tail end of rush hour traffic.
So, the journey wasn't smooth.
Even with [Driving Lv 4]—skills rivaling professional racers—and pushing the bike to its limits...
Weaving through city traffic kept his speed capped at around 60-70 mph.
"One minute!"
It was the seventh time Teri had reported.
Hunter glanced at a road sign and calculated quickly.
"We're only about four or five kilometers from the edge of the metro area."
"Straight line distance from Moscow Nights should be close to twenty kilometers now."
"Once we're out of the city and on the Interstate..."
"I can push it to over 150 km/h."
"Unless the Russians have a helicopter, they won't catch us."
He had scouted the route days ago.
With physical attributes double that of a normal human and Intelligence two points higher than his other mental stats...
His photographic memory and logical analysis were peak.
He had memorized every turn of the escape route.
So now, he advanced methodically.
Beep beep beep beep!
A sharp, simple ringtone erupted from Teri's phone.
Because Teri was hugging him tightly, pressing her body against his back...
Hunter felt the violent shudder that ran through her the moment the phone rang.
"It's them!"
Teri's voice was panicked. "It's their call! What do I do?"
Hunter hadn't expected the mob to react so fast—it had only been seven minutes.
He slowed down slightly, controlling the bike with one hand while reaching back with the other.
"Give me the phone. I'll handle it."
Teri didn't hesitate. It was like holding a hot potato.
She shoved the phone into Hunter's hand.
Hunter didn't answer. He rejected the call immediately.
He kept riding. Not far down the road, the phone rang again.
Again, Hunter hung up.
Less than five seconds later, it rang a third time.
"What are you doing?"
Teri asked anxiously.
Hunter didn't answer. He rejected the call several more times.
Finally, the phone stopped ringing. Hunter slowed the bike down again.
Teri hugged his waist tighter, trembling with fear.
Hunter waited.
Finally, hearing the low horn of a ship...
He looked down from the bridge they were crossing. An inland cargo barge was passing underneath, moving slowly.
Timing it perfectly, Hunter took Teri's phone.
Through a gap in the bridge railing, he threw it with precision.
The phone landed squarely on the cargo barge below.
Then, Hunter twisted the throttle to the max.
The bike surged forward, accelerating past 80 mph.
Carrying Teri, he sped toward the western outskirts of Boston.
Chapter 109: Slavi
New
6 hours ago
"What exactly are you doing?"
Teri asked curiously.
As the motorcycle picked up speed and the distance from Moscow Nights grew, she began to see a glimmer of hope. The anxiety in her heart finally started to fade.
She recalled Hunter throwing her phone onto the cargo ship a few minutes ago.
Unable to suppress her curiosity, she asked him.
Hunter glanced at a road sign ahead. The nearest Interstate highway was less than two kilometers away.
Feeling good, he decided to explain.
"The tracker in your body likely has a range limit."
"As long as we put enough distance between us and the people controlling you, they should lose your signal."
"But you said your phone also has tracking software."
"So, I threw your phone onto that cargo ship to mislead them."
Hunter didn't know exactly how far the implanted tracker's range was.
He assumed the worst-case scenario: about fifty kilometers.
After all, the Russian mob behind Moscow Nightswas fundamentally just a pimping operation with some muscle.
They might have guns and thugs.
But high-end, expensive military tracking equipment? Unlikely.
And even if they had it, they wouldn't waste it on the girls they controlled.
So, this little trick...
Even if it didn't buy much time, it would at least split their attention and manpower.
The bike continued to speed forward. What Hunter didn't know was...
At that very moment, in an office on the top floor of the Moscow Nights hotel where he had stayed.
A man was in a rage.
"What? One of our 'premium goods' ran away?"
"Who? That Teri again?"
"Damn it. If that state senator didn't like her so much, I would have broken her legs long ago and thrown her to the homeless to 'service' them."
"Good. Good. She dares to run again."
"Chase her! Catch her!"
"This time, I'm breaking her legs."
Slavi was furious.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, many residents of the former USSR left their homeland.
Most came to the US, yearning for the capitalist dream.
There's an old Chinese saying: "Poor places produce unruly people." This was particularly true for Russia, the largest state of the former Union.
Due to the harsh environment, Russian male immigrants were generally more aggressive and combative than those from other former Soviet states.
From the West Coast to the East Coast, in almost every city with a Russian population, a criminal group would naturally emerge, rising through violence and ruthlessness.
The Russian mob currently entrenched in Boston was a typical example.
And Slavi was its boss.
After the Soviet collapse over a decade ago, Slavi had been at the bottom of Russian society.
He wasn't tall—only average height for a Russian.
He wasn't a master fighter either. But he possessed a ruthless streak.
Hearing that America was paradise, he smuggled himself from the Bering Sea to Alaska with others.
Then, he made his way to Boston.
Here, Slavi found that life in America wasn't easy for an immigrant. He could only mix with other low-level Russian immigrants.
He recruited a group of young men who were equally tough and unwilling to be bullied.
Soon, by sticking together, they established a foothold in Boston.
As a nation of immigrants, the US had no shortage of undocumented people.
Slavi was a shrewd boss. He realized that the sex trade was low-cost and highly profitable.
Through deception and coercion, he partnered with smugglers who brought people into the US cheaply. He even colluded with corrupt Boston police officers.
They controlled many immigrant women. They even groomed minors specifically to serve VIPs.
After all, as the world's largest capitalist country...
America's high-ranking politicians, wealthy businessmen, and celebrities had no shortage of perverts with strange tastes.
By catering to these tastes, Slavi used his controlled girls—like Teri—to build a network.
He ensnared senators, tycoons, and mid-to-high-level police officers in Boston with blackmail and pleasure.
Whether clients liked men or women, mature women or young girls, Slavi had the resources to satisfy them.
The protective web woven by sex and profit was powerful, bringing Slavi immense wealth.
And Teri was Slavi's "most valuable premium product."
Many politicians and businessmen with specific proclivities favored her.
That was why, despite Teri escaping time and again...
Slavi only beat, tortured, and abused her before putting her back to work.
Teri not only made him money but also helped him secure leverage over Boston's elite.
So, Slavi treated her differently. And he absolutely could not let her escape.
"Boss, Teri is about to leave the tracking range."
A subordinate reported. "And... she seems to have gotten smarter."
"We're tracking both her phone and her implant. The locations are completely different."
"Both signals are about to go out of range. What should we do?"
Slavi's expression was dark, veins bulging on his forehead.
Suppressing his rage, he issued orders with a sinister grin.
"Good. Playing games with us now."
"Pat."
A burly Russian thug stepped forward. "Boss."
Slavi commanded, "Take a team. Check the phone's location. Fast!"
"Yes!"
The thug left immediately.
Slavi looked at a tall, thin subordinate. "Andrei. You take a team and track the implant signal."
"Hurry. Bring the scanner. She's almost out of range."
"Yes, Boss!"
Still not satisfied, Slavi looked at another man.
"Vishniak. Check where Teri has been in the last month. Who she contacted."
"I don't believe she has the ability to escape on her own."
"Someone helped her. Investigate thoroughly."
Vishniak replied immediately, "Boss, ever since her last escape attempt..."
"She only gets to go out for meals three times a week. She always goes to the same family diner. I think she might have met someone there."
Slavi's eyes flashed with a vicious light.
"Good!"
He grinned savagely and patted Vishniak on the shoulder. "Take some men. Go there and ask questions."
"If they have surveillance cameras, get the tapes."
"Do a good job. When you bring Teri back... I'll let you all have your fun with her first. Then I'll break her legs."
"Yes, Boss."