Dealing with Steve
Arthur didn't hesitate for a single second. He crouched down on the hardwood floor and aggressively gathered the dozen or so scattered envelopes, ripping them open one by one with calculated efficiency.
Three of them were completely useless, mundane items. They were standard, automated letters from her credit card company, as well as final notices from the municipal water, electricity, and gas companies, all aggressively demanding immediate payment for the vacant apartment.
However, the remaining few envelopes were exactly what he was looking for: highly crucial, tactical information that Charlie Croker and the surviving crew had desperately left behind for Stella Bridger.
Arthur meticulously opened the handwritten letters in chronological sequence. As his dark, calculating eyes scanned the hurried handwriting, he quickly and flawlessly learned exactly what had violently unfolded at the luxury villa after he had escaped into the night.
Several of the desperate letters were explicitly written because the crew absolutely couldn't get in secure touch with Stella through any digital means.
So, Charlie and the others had frantically prepared these physical dead-drops, hoping against hope that whenever Stella safely returned to her private apartment, she would immediately see them and proactively contact the surviving team.
Clearly, from the deeply relieved tone of the writing, Charlie and the others already knew perfectly well that Stella had been miraculously rescued by an unknown third party.
Although the rushed information contained in the letters absolutely wasn't incredibly detailed ,likely due to their profound fear of federal interception ,Arthur's highly intelligent mind easily relied on the subtle clues deliberately hidden between the frantic lines.
He smoothly managed to roughly, accurately piece together the catastrophic events of that bloody night.
Directly because of Arthur's violent, unexpected intervention with the crossbow, Charlie Croker had suffered a massive, near-fatal calamity.
Charlie had originally, meticulously planned to temporarily fool the paranoid Steve with a heavy load of fake gold bars, and then aggressively use the highly volatile bomb securely strapped to his own chest to forcefully compel Steve to release the kidnapped Stella.
When the heavy, armor-piercing crossbow bolt Arthur fired violently shattered the main power box of Steve's fortified villa, plunging the compound into pitch-black darkness, Steve and his panicked mercenaries had aggressively started firing blind into the chaos.
Tragically for the master thief, a stray, high-caliber bullet had violently hit Charlie in the confusion.
However, even suffering from a fresh, agonizing gunshot wound, Charlie absolutely didn't forget his desperate, romantic goal; he had bravely tried to sneak directly into Steve's dark villa to aggressively rescue Stella himself.
As a direct, disastrous result, Charlie was completely, unintentionally screwed over by Arthur's lightning-fast actions once again.
While Arthur had ruthlessly, efficiently killed two of Steve's armed men in the dark corridors and successfully escaped with Stella, Steve and his remaining heavily armed mercenaries had quickly returned to the main house.
They had violently trapped the bleeding Charlie inside the compound and ultimately, brutally captured him alive.
The letters frantically detailed how Handsome Rob had aggressively tried to storm the gates to rescue his captured friend. But the loyal getaway driver had ended up severely wounded by automatic fire and was nearly violently caught by Steve's men as well.
At the absolute, most critical, life-or-death moment, it was Left Ear, the stoic explosives expert.
Seeing the tactical situation going completely south, Left Ear had aggressively, violently driven their heavy trailing car directly through the shattered villa gates, utilizing a massive distraction to miraculously rescue the bleeding Rob and Charlie from the lion's den.
However, when the three of them finally, desperately escaped the compound into the Los Angeles night, every single one of them had sustained massive, significant physical injuries.
The absolute most serious casualty was undeniably Charlie Croker. The mastermind had been brutally shot a staggering eight times during the chaotic crossfire and had only briefly, miraculously regained consciousness a single time since the violent escape.
He currently seemed to be undergoing highly covert, underground emergency medical treatment in some untraceable clinic.
But before he slipped completely into a deep, agonizing coma, entirely because he was overwhelmingly, desperately worried about Stella's safety, Charlie had aggressively ordered his injured companions to physically come to her apartment to flawlessly confirm if she was alive.
That deep, unwavering loyalty was exactly why Arthur now saw so many desperate letters piled up here at Stella's quiet residence.
As for Steve's current tactical situation, the hurried letters did not explicitly explain it in profound detail.
But because Arthur had aggressively used a high-explosive fragmentation grenade at the cliff edge that night, and Left Ear had also violently detonated a massive, diversionary bomb at the front gates to save Charlie,
The two consecutive, deafening explosions were completely impossible to ignore. Especially in an upscale, highly exclusive villa area completely full of incredibly wealthy and politically connected elites.
Even if the Los Angeles Police Department were entirely blind and deaf, the immediate, furious complaints from the city's wealthy and powerful would forcefully compel them to be incredibly sharp-eyed and relentlessly aggressive.
Consequently, before the absolute vast majority of Steve's heavily armed mercenaries even had the precious time to properly escape the burning compound, they were violently surrounded, aggressively arrested by the LAPD's tactical SWAT units, and securely locked up in federal holding cells.
As for the treacherous Steve himself, the sociopath had somehow miraculously managed to flawlessly escape the encroaching police perimeter in the blinding chaos, aggressively driving away in the heavy Volkswagen sedan completely filled with the counterfeit gold bars.
Exactly because of this slick getaway, Charlie and the surviving crew genuinely didn't know exactly where Steve was currently hiding in the sprawling city.
The absolute only tactical thing they could be terrifyingly sure of was that a greedy, paranoid man like Steve absolutely wouldn't give up his massive fortune so easily.
He would highly likely soon visually discover that the heavy batch of gold bars Charlie had meticulously prepared that day were completely, undeniably fake.
Charlie and his highly experienced underworld crew could organically, flawlessly hide in the deep shadows for now.
But the legitimate, civilian Stella had absolutely no viable way to permanently hide!
After all, she owned and operated a highly respected, heavily advertised locksmith company right in the bustling heart of downtown Los Angeles; her public profile was simply entirely too conspicuous.
Therefore, Charlie and the others were deeply, suffocatingly worried that the enraged Steve would violently target Stella once again for lethal leverage.
So almost every single day, one of the injured crew would risk exposure to securely deliver a warning letter to Stella's quiet apartment.
They desperately wanted to warn her ,since they logically didn't know exactly when she might return ,to be incredibly careful and absolutely not get violently caught by Steve's remaining forces again.
So that is exactly how it all played out! Arthur thought, a cold, calculated glint flashing in his dark eyes.
It absolutely didn't take Arthur's highly intelligent mind very long to rapidly read through all the desperate correspondence at Stella's place.
After flawlessly finishing his reading, he meticulously packed every single letter securely up, actively planning to take them with him and directly hand them over to Stella back at the isolated farm later.
Arthur genuinely hadn't expected that, on that massively chaotic, explosive night, a coward like Steve would absolutely still manage to smoothly slip away through the heavy LAPD cordon in the confusion ,and that Charlie and his elite crew still hadn't successfully hunted him down.
He genuinely didn't care in the absolute least whether Charlie Croker and his arrogant company lived or died on these unforgiving streets.
But the beautiful Stella was, exactly after all they had shared, half his respected mentor in the advanced [Lockpicking] arts.
As long as it was completely within his lethal power, Arthur firmly intended to aggressively solve her massive Steve problem for her once and for all.
So, exactly where in this sprawling metropolis should I begin to actively look for the paranoid Steve?
With that heavy, tactical question echoing in his calculating mind, Arthur quietly locked the front door behind him and walked smoothly out of Stella's quiet apartment building.
He had barely stepped outside into the sweltering Los Angeles heat when he suddenly, physically felt a heavy, piercing gaze land directly on his back.
Arthur's supernaturally enhanced five senses were terrifyingly, razor-sharp.
The absolute, microscopic instant his skin prickled from the hostile stare, his combat instincts flared. He instinctively, casually looked up, letting his dark eyes sweep the busy street to flawlessly find its exact source.
A brief moment later, his rugged expression froze slightly under his tinted visor.
Then, a faint, incredibly cold, predatory smile quickly appeared on his handsome face.
Directly across the bustling street from Stella's apartment complex, perfectly hidden in the deep shadows beneath a massive oak tree, a man was actively loitering.
He was aggressively wearing dark, oversized sunglasses and a low-pulled baseball hat ,leaving absolutely only the lower half of his tense jaw and a pair of highly suspicious, bushy fake mustaches physically visible.
He was staring intensely, obsessively at the entrance of Stella's building.
Though the lurking man was heavily, meticulously disguised, and absolutely anyone unfamiliar with his exact posture and build would probably easily fail to recognize him in the urban crowd,
Unfortunately for the watcher, Arthur's enhanced memory knew his specific physical dimensions entirely too well.
So incredibly well that a single, fleeting glance was vastly more than enough for Arthur's highly intelligent mind to flawlessly confirm his true identity.
Steve?! Arthur thought, dark amusement flooding his chest.
Truly, a hunter can aggressively wear out his iron boots in completely fruitless searching across the city, only to miraculously find the absolute perfect target without expending any tactical effort at all.
I was literally just wondering exactly where to start aggressively hunting for you, and here you foolishly pop up entirely on your own.
Arthur flawlessly, immediately averted his sharp gaze, ensuring the highly paranoid Steve absolutely wouldn't notice anything tactically off about the random passerby.
Arthur smoothly continued walking down the cracked concrete sidewalk at a completely unhurried, relaxed pace, acting exactly like an ordinary civilian until he had seamlessly put a solid, safe distance behind him.
Then, his calculating eyes glanced sharply around the urban environment, and he soon picked out another tall, imposing apartment building that offered a perfect tactical vantage point.
Flawlessly finding a dark, unobserved alleyway corner out of sight, Arthur swiftly, aggressively changed his physical appearance using items directly from his invisible private space.
First, he securely donned a realistic, dark wig and clamped a faded, generic baseball cap tightly over it.
Next, he smoothly slipped on a massive pair of dark, bug-eye sunglasses that completely covered the upper half of his handsome face.
He also quickly pulled out a high-quality fake mustache and expertly stuck it securely above his upper lip with professional adhesive.
Ever since miraculously awakening his [Disguise] skill, Arthur had meticulously bought himself various, advanced theatrical makeup tools and specialized gear strictly for lightning-fast, urban disguises.
Absolutely every single time he actively moved on these dangerous streets these days, he methodically used them to blend in.
Thanks entirely to these rigorous, paranoid precautions, his true, legal identity as Arthur Sterling had absolutely never been exposed to the authorities or the underworld.
With his flawless disguise fully complete, he confidently, silently entered the imposing apartment building.
Bypassing the slow elevator, his heavy tactical boots carried him rapidly up the concrete stairs, his superhuman stamina allowing him to effortlessly climb all the way to the absolute top floor without breaking a single sweat.
From that commanding height, he aggressively started scanning the streets downward through the hallway windows, intensely looking to reacquire Steve's hidden position while simultaneously searching for a highly suitable, lethal sniper spot.
After a very short, calculated search of the corridors, he flawlessly found the absolute perfect, shadowed alcove overlooking the street.
Glancing sharply around the immediate perimeter to ensure his flank was secure, his enhanced vision immediately noticed a small, blinking municipal surveillance camera mounted not far away on the ceiling.
Arthur casually tugged his faded cap vastly lower over his brow and strolled smoothly, unhurriedly directly toward the recording device.
The absolute, precise instant he was positioned perfectly beneath its lens blind spot, he seamlessly pulled a heavy, solid aluminum baseball bat entirely out of his invisible private space.
With a quick, highly precise upward thrust, he aggressively nudged the motorized camera housing, violently forcing its lens to point permanently into a dark, useless dead corner of the ceiling.
With that tactical countermeasure flawlessly done, he rapidly stowed the bat back into the void and returned silently to his previous, lethal sniper position by the window.
He knew perfectly well with absolute certainty that if an active camera was installed right here, the building's monitoring security guards would highly likely soon notice the sudden, glaring problem on their screens and actively send someone up the stairs to physically check the floor.
His critical, violent window of tactical opportunity was rapidly, aggressively closing.
He immediately locked his cold, predatory gaze back onto Steve's disguised figure on the street far below, flawlessly confirming the treacherous man was absolutely still standing in the exact same shadowed spot, his greedy eyes obsessively fixed on Stella's apartment entrance.
Without hesitating for a single, microscopic second, Arthur smoothly, silently drew the massive, military-grade Sniper crossbow directly from his invisible private space.
His calloused hands moved with terrifying, mechanical precision. He meticulously loaded a heavy, armor-piercing bolt onto the cold, carbon-fiber rail.
Peering intensely through the advanced optical scope, Arthur's highly intelligent mind rapidly, silently calculated the exact urban wind speed, the steep downward trajectory, and the precise physical distance.
He exhaled a long, steady breath, completely stilling his racing heart, and coldly, ruthlessly squeezed the sensitive trigger.
Whoosh! With the lethal, terrifying hiss of heavy metal violently slicing completely through the sweltering Los Angeles air, the massive bolt vanished from the rail.
Through the magnified scope, Arthur perfectly, satisfyingly watched the distant, disguised figure of Steve suddenly violently convulse and crumple heavily to the concrete sidewalk below, exactly like a puppet whose strings had been brutally severed.
Arthur quickly, seamlessly stowed the lethal Sniper crossbow back into his dimensional void.
He grinned a cold, profoundly satisfied smile for a brief, fleeting moment, his righteous promise to Stella successfully, flawlessly fulfilled.
Then, completely ignoring the ensuing chaos surely starting to erupt on the streets below, Arthur turned sharply on his heel and vanished silently like a ghost back into the dark shadows of the concrete stairwell.