Chapter 384: Back to London
Los Angeles, night, outside Gerald's nightclub.
"Hey, handsome young man, how much for a night?" A woman in her forties, dressed provocatively, squeezed in front of Ron, giving him a flirtatious wink, waving a roll of green US dollars in front of him, along with deliberately exposed cleavage.
"Sorry, we only sell our art, not... FUCK! I mean we're just here for drinks, not to sell ourselves." Ron shoved the woman aside and complained to Hobbs beside him:
"I told you to change your clothes. My god, don't you have a single loose-fitting outfit in your closet? Walking next to you, even I look like a male escort! This is the ninth one today!"
Ron glanced helplessly at Hobbs, who was, as always, wearing a skin-tight tank top under a denim jacket, looking utterly resigned.
He was starting to regret it, regretting agreeing to Hobbs's offer as soon as it was raised to thirty million.
In his eyes, this meager income was utterly insignificant compared to the sexual harassment he had endured that night! This was the ninth middle-aged woman to proposition him since he started staking out here, and the culprit behind it all was Hobbs, sitting next to him.
Hobbs, on the other hand, had already had his fifteenth approach!
Sure enough, as women reached a certain age, not only did their needs increase, but their preferences also became more adventurous.
"Sorry, my informant said he's arrived. We can go over now." Hobbs glanced at the message on his phone and suddenly stood up.
Hobbs didn't have much intelligence on the biological weapon; he only knew it was stolen, and the anonymous source hadn't even revealed the specifics of the virus, or perhaps knew but deliberately kept silent. All of this made Ron even more suspicious of who possessed it.
Ron even suspected that it might have been jointly developed by the UK and the US, and that the thing that would cause a future global crisis was a weaponized version of this.
Unfortunately, no intelligence had come back from Matheson yet, so when Hobbs mentioned the term "biological weapons," Ron was incredibly excited. He was just worried about not having a chance to get his hands on anything related, and now Hobbs was practically handing him an opportunity on a silver platter—what a stroke of luck!
However, to prevent Hobbs from seeing through his intentions, Ron initially declined, but then managed to squeeze some funding from the CIA before agreeing. The two walked through the bustling hall and backstage area, arriving at the last room behind the tattoo parlor. The scrawny Latino man inside was their target for the night, and the group of men surrounding him who looked like gang members would be an obstacle to their operation.
"Who the hell are you people?" the scrawny man asked warily, his men also nervously crowding around him.
"Good evening, I'm the Texas connection you were talking about." Ron tipped an imaginary hat, and before the man's astonished expression could fade, he suddenly attacked. With a light tap of his toe, a jab struck the scrawny man's throat, and the man immediately clutched his neck and fell to his knees. At the same time as Ron's attack, Hobbs also suddenly struck.
He grabbed one of the henchmen by the collar, lifted him up, and slammed him onto another. Then, grabbing the arm that was reaching for him, he executed a powerful judo throw. The unlucky fellow, who had overestimated his abilities and tried to ambush him from behind, was thrown to the ground.
"Ouch~ Poor bastard~" Ron couldn't help but wince for the man.
The heavyset guy next to him, seeing Ron's distraction, seized the opportunity, reached into his pocket, and a flash of cold steel appeared as a switchblade lunged towards Ron's ribs.
Just as he thought he was about to succeed and began to imagine the pained expression on Ron's face afterward, his hand holding the knife was suddenly gripped tightly by a large, vice-like hand.
The fat man tried to stab forward, but the blade seemed to be frozen in place, unable to go any further. He looked up in horror, just in time to meet Ron's amused smile.
"NO, NO, NO~" Ron smiled and wagged his finger at him: "I don't think sneaking around is a good habit. Here, how about you give me this?"
Ron didn't hesitate, snatching the blade from his hand as easily as taking candy from a baby, and then pinning his hand to the table with it.
"Ahhhh~" The fat man screamed in agony, and Ron, of course, couldn't let him keep screaming like that, so he punched him in the temple, making him completely pass out from the pain.
At this point, Hobbs had also taken care of the remaining henchmen.
"Well done."
"You're not bad yourself."
With no one in the way, Ron grabbed the scrawny man by the collar and threw him onto the tattoo chair: "Let me borrow this."
Ron picked up the tattoo gun and pointed it at the scrawny man's forehead.
"What are you going to do?!"
"NO, NO, NO, wrong answer," Ron shoved the gun barrel into the scrawny man's forehead. "This is a Q&A session. The rules are: I ask, you answer. Understand? If you understand, we'll try this again."
The scrawny man nodded in terror, indicating he understood, because he knew Ron wasn't just talking; he really would do it.
"OK, now it's my turn to speak," Ron pressed the tattoo gun, making a buzzing sound. "I'm tracking a supervirus someone mentioned on the dark web, and it's being auctioned off. Tell me about it."
"I swear, I really don't know," the scrawny man shook his head vigorously.
"Tsk tsk~ Wrong answer. I think you want to suffer a little."
"I really don't know."
"Shh~" Ron put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Listen, my patience is very limited, but I have plenty of time.
I'll ask you one last time. Think carefully about your answer this time. If your answer still doesn't satisfy me, I'll tattoo a copy of Hamlet on your forehead, and my good friend will tattoo Romeo and Juliet on your other little head. Understand?"
After Ron finished speaking, Hobbs picked up a tattoo gun from the side and stared at his crotch with malicious intent, making the scrawny man's sphincter clench in fear.
"Now, I'll ask one last time, what do you know about that virus?"
"I'll tell you everything," the scrawny man said, his crotch darkening with urine. "It's the Snowflake virus, a programmable bioweapon targeting specific genetic markers. People in the underworld call it 'Snowflake.' I only sold the intel that MI6 was transporting it; I don't know anything else!"
Hobbs quickly pressed, "A rogue agent betrayed us and took the virus. Now I need to know who you sold the intelligence to?"
This time, however, the gaunt man didn't answer directly as before. Instead, his entire body trembled uncontrollably, revealing a look of utter terror.
Ron knew that it must be the organization that had bought the information from him that was causing his panic, and he couldn't help but become curious as well, but his curiosity was different from Hobbs'.
Hobbs only made verbal threats, while Ron would actually follow through.
"To be or not to be, that is the question..." Ron chanted as he began tattooing the words onto the scrawny man's forehead. The man screamed in pain at Ron's actions, but Ron didn't care. Instead, he glared at Hobbs reproachfully: "Hobbs, what are you standing there for? Get to work. If you don't remember the original text, you can Google it on your phone."
"No," Hobbs said, forcing himself to suppress his nausea, as he pulled down the scrawny man's pants. "I was just wondering how to tattoo a Shakespearean play on such a small canvas. Do you have a magnifying glass here?"
"Oh, sorry, my bad," Ron said apologetically. "I'm too used to judging others by my own standards. How about this, you tattoo a sonnet for him... This size is too small. Forget it, just write 'OK.' That's enough space for that word."
"No! I'll tell you, it's Eteon! Oh God, I said it! Please, please let me go!" As Hobbs's tattoo gun drew closer, the scrawny man finally broke down and sobbed in utter humiliation.
"That's a good boy." Ron tossed the tattoo gun aside, patted the scrawny man's face, and just as the man relaxed his guard, suddenly slammed his head against the back of the seat, knocking him unconscious.
"Hobbs, I think we're in serious trouble now." Back in the car, Ron's expression immediately turned grave.
"Why do you say that?"
"Eteon—this is a global terrorist organization that adheres to social Darwinism, advocating the elimination of a portion of 'inferior' populations so that humanity can evolve better. You might not know, but Cipher, whom we killed before, and several other related cartel leaders, all had some deep connection with them."
"If that's the case, can't we just request military intervention to take them out?" Hobbs asked, puzzled.
"No, they're too powerful. They've even penetrated every level of government organizations around the world; they have operatives everywhere," Ron shook his head. "Have you seen the Avengers? They're like Hydra in it, not only possessing immense power but also countless advanced technologies."
"Really? Just a terrorist organization." Hobbs expressed disbelief, giving Ron a look that said, "You think I'm scared?"
"Remember the Golden Circle I took care of before?"
Hobbs nodded. "Of course I remember. It left a deep impression. Their technology in bioweapons and robotics was truly remarkable. Wait, you don't mean..."
"Yes, that's exactly what you're thinking." Ron sighed helplessly. "That drug cartel was just a money-making front that Eteon put forward. You don't really think a bunch of uneducated drug dealers could come up with so many advanced technologies that even top universities couldn't develop, do you?"
Ron had wondered before during the Golden Circle incident why a drug dealer who graduated from business school could possess advanced robots and prosthetic limbs that even Howard was amazed by, even though she didn't have any scientists working for her.
Especially that prosthetic arm. In Howard's words, if we disregard material factors (because he couldn't find a material similar to vibranium in reality), its capabilities were basically the same as depicted in the comics.
Don't forget, Howard is recognized as one of the world's strongest engineers from one of the world's top universities!
For him to give such an evaluation speaks volumes about Eteon's technological prowess.
"So what do we do now?" Ron's words gave Hobbs a headache.
"First, we need to find that rogue agent. My experience tells me that from now on, any information not seen with our own eyes is likely disinformation fed to us through various channels. Perhaps there's more to this than meets the eye."
"Okay, I'll book our tickets to London right away." Hobbs' greatest strength was his decisiveness; he immediately pulled out his phone to book tickets, but Ron stopped him.
"No, not us, just yourself."
"Why?"
Ron patted Hobbs on the shoulder. "If you want to take the risk, settle your family first. Call Samantha and tell her Uncle Ron will pick her up tomorrow. I'll take her to a completely safe location."
Hobbs said gratefully, "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Also, don't worry about the operation in Britain. I'll arrange for an excellent operative who is very familiar with Britain to work with you there."
"Who? Is it Arthur? I've always admired Arthur's skills. It would be fantastic to work with him!" Hobbs exclaimed excitedly upon hearing that there were reinforcements.
He had been eyeing Ron's team's capabilities for a long time, especially Arthur. With his help, they would be even more formidable.
Ron smiled mysteriously, "You're pretty close, but let me keep you in suspense for now. I'll give you a surprise when you get to England. Before that, I need to secure our families."
Dealing with a group of lunatics like Eteon, Ron's biggest worry was his family. Fortunately, he had Forrest and his crew back home to protect them, so he wasn't too concerned there.
The real problem was his women in Los Angeles. There were too many, and they were too scattered. To make protection easier, Ron had to send Hobbs's daughter, Samantha, to the Gallagher household, along with Fiona's family, to be protected by the Smiths.
Caroline and Max's family lived near Toretto's garage; Ron only needed to make a phone call to have the leader of the Los Angeles street racing scene personally protect them. Gisele was an operative herself, so self-protection was no problem for her.
As for Felicity, with her hacking skills, it was good enough if she didn't mess with others. Who could possibly mess with her? Besides, almost no one knew about Ron's relationship with her; the crossfire wouldn't reach her.
The most obvious and vulnerable one left was Collins. Ron needed to think of a solution. With that in mind, Ron found her number and called.
"Good evening, darling. I want to talk to you about something. My side business has run into some problems lately. Would you mind house-sitting for me? Don't worry, it won't take long, only about a week. It's a beautiful island. If you'd like, I'll have someone pick you up tomorrow."
(End of Chapter)
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