The relationship between the upper echelons of the FBI and the NYPD was already incredibly strained.
It was all the fault of that damn SHIELD.
And that damn one-eyed Baldy , Nick Fury.
Colin spat venomously in his mind. With relations already on thin ice, if he poked the hornet's nest again, he'd likely beco the personal target of every beat cop in the city. He had no desire to relive the experience of leaving his house every morning only to return with five parking tickets on his windshield.
If it happened again, at least two-thirds of every FBI agent's salary in the New York field office would be spent paying off fines. That wouldn't be a joke; it would be a mutiny.
"Anyway..."
Colin slapped the table, drawing everyone's attention. "This case belongs to the NYPD. They haven't asked for our intervention, and no one has officially reported a kidnapping. Don't go looking for trouble. I might not be able to handle Peerless, but I can certainly handle you. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Understood, sir."
Colin listened to the chorus of responses and smiled. He nodded toward the agent holding the remote. "Ti's almost up. Turn the volu up."
The screen displayed the live feed of NY Channel 1.
...
New York SHIELD Operations Center.
Victoria Hand stood in the command center, arms crossed. The main screen was split: one side showed the Channel 1 broadcast, the other showed real-ti satellite surveillance of the surrounding blocks.
"Sir."
"Barbara."
Mockingbird, Barbara Morse, looked at the seemingly idle Commander Hand and asked curiously, "Sir, are we just going to watch?"
Hand chuckled and looked at her. "Barbara, do you see a single police car moving toward the TV station on that map?"
"...No."
"Channel 1 is in Manhattan. Manhattan has the highest security density in New York. On average, a patrol car passes through any given block every three minutes. Even at night, that frequency only drops to once every five minutes."
The US was a capitalist society; the more taxes an area paid, the more police protection it received. It was logical. In the slums where people didn't pay taxes and survived on governnt subsidies, it was only natural for ambulances and police cars to arrive a little late. They served the taxpayers; if you didn't pay, their arrival was essentially an act of charity.
"But..." Victoria Hand pointed to the satellite map. "Look at the surrounding blocks now. Is there a trace of a patrol car? Do you think the NYPD is too stupid to know Peerless's destination is Channel 1?"
Mockingbird frowned.
Commander Hand laughed. "And do you see any FBI vehicles or personnel?"
"No."
"Exactly." Hand gestured toward a seat and sat down. "Yesterday, Peerless used a missile to keep us at bay. This ti, he didn't need explosives to threaten us. He didn't need to, because right now, the NYPD is his explosive."
The officers of the NYPD might be restrained by their identity as law enforcers. But restraint didn't an they couldn't look the other way.
...
*Wooo-Wooo!*
At 8:50 PM, a long line of police cars sped away from New Amsterdam Hospital. But they weren't heading for Channel 1. They were racing toward the Port of New York.
The NYPD had just received an anonymous tip claiming a man in sunglasses and another in a wheelchair had been spotted at the docks. Upon hearing the dispatch from HQ, the patroln on the island reached a collective epiphany.
'Ah... so the TV station was just a clumsy "distract the tiger from the mountain" ruse by Peerless.'
And so, with sirens wailing, nearly every patrol car in Manhattan surged toward the harbor. Their sirens seed to scream a promise to the city: *We will not return until the Assassin is broken!*
New York residents, watching from their hos, blinked in confusion. Was it really a trick? Was Peerless not going to the station?
Patty Finn, the golden producer, looked at the flood of comnts online and started to worry she had been stood up. After all, the man was a killer, not a man of his word. It was now 8:59 PM.
Just then—*Thud!*
The doors to the studio swung open.
Locke walked in, carrying Barry Weiss by the scruff of his neck like a limp chicken. He looked at Patty, who had turned from the window. "Good evening, Patty."
Patty froze. The crew froze.
A split second later, Patty snapped back to reality. She signaled the broadcast technicians and walked quickly toward Locke, extending her hand. "Mr. Peerless."
Locke shifted the junkie to his left hand and shook Patty's hand with his right. "Right on ti. Let's begin."
Patty invited him toward the set with a smile. "I originally planned to have our 'Weather Goddess' Barbara host, but she... didn't accept."
Locke chuckled. "Understandable."
He had only ntioned her in passing anyway. Besides, how could a face full of artificial fillers compare to his Gwen? Gwen looked better, slled better, and... well, tasted better. He wasn't a lecher, but he had standards. He could say with total confidence: *The Locke of this life has eyes for only one.* No "hypocrisy" here.
*Thump!*
Locke tossed the junkie onto the floor and smoothed out his suit. He sat in the sa chair he had used the night before and looked at Patty with a smile. "Let's go."
Patty nodded.
Soon, the station's transition animation—which had been frozen on a teaser screen—began to play. The technicians watching the ratings gasped; the numbers were skyrocketing at an impossible rate.
"He's here!"
"Dammit, stop playing gas, Channel 1 is live!"
"Holy shit, it wasn't a distraction?"
"It was a distraction! The NYPD got distracted and went to the docks! Haha!"
---
On the screen, the Channel 1 newsroom appeared. As the cara zood out to reveal Locke, the city let out a collective shout.
**[Task Influence Multiplier: 50x]**
**[Task Influence Multiplier: 55x]**
...
**[Task Influence Multiplier: 70x]**
Locke raised an eyebrow. It was as if he could hear the thunderous applause of millions in his ears, while his multiplier climbed like it was strapped to a Stark rocket.
"Good evening, New York!"
Patty Finn was no longer nervous. She smiled at the cara, giving a concise summary of the situation before looking at the Assassin. She even joked, "I feel like we could start a new segnt: 'My Story with Peerless.'"
Locke laughed. "I think that would do very well."
"Will Mr. Peerless beco a regular guest for us?"
"Is there an appearance fee?"
"Of course."
"A regular gig is impossible. But I wouldn't mind being a guest occasionally—provided I'm free."
Locke knew he would be dealing with the dia more in the future. The greater the influence, the higher the settlent rewards. Nothing was more powerful than the dia. Though they were a group that loved chaos, they were the only ones who could ensure that things ant to be hidden were dragged into the light.
He looked at the cara and, just like yesterday, sent his "warst regards" to New York's law enforcent. He ntioned that he had left "little gifts" around the building; if the signal was cut or he was interrupted, he would detonate the Stark Industries anti-personnel missiles he had piled near the entrances.
Then, the cara panned down to the struggling junkie at his feet.
Patty looked at Locke. "Mr. Peerless, I understand you want to use our station to clarify sothing to the city and the world."
Locke nodded.
"Does it have to do with the man at your feet?"
"Yes."
Locke looked down at Barry Weiss with interest before looking back at the lens. "His na is Barry Weiss. He's actually a bit of an internet celebrity. There's a video of him that's quite popular on video sites."
The audience blinked. Then, the younger viewers recognized him instantly. *Isn't that the punk who swallowed five pool balls in that viral video?*
Locke answered the unspoken question. "Yes. As you can see, this is the 'Mastermind' behind the recent copycat notification cards. Honestly, even I couldn't believe it when I found him. I thought it might be an old rival. I didn't expect my reputation to be hijacked by... this."
Barry Weiss: "..."
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon/Redestro666
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