What kind of expression did he have when he saw a colleague? William indicated that he shouldn't do anything. He was afraid the other side would just open fire and cause him trouble. At this time, it was better to pretend to be well-behaved.
William pretended not to see him. He took his belongings and went upstairs. The chef glanced at him but didn't make any move. It was daytime, so he still had to show some respect.
Back in his room, William, as usual, began to gather information. This world was definitely not normal. There was a sense of black humor. Assassins only needed to be accountable to the High Table. However, most of the time, it turned into infighting. In contrast, the official attitude was very ambiguous. They basically didn't bother with them much.
William discovered that this was decided by some previous events. It seemed there had been some government contact here before, which allowed the High Table to take advantage of the situation.
William, who hadn't received any news yet, chose to earn money! He needed a legitimate identity. This seemed to be part of some agreement. Anyway, on the surface, they needed to integrate into society, but tasks were unpredictable. So, a job with flexible hours was very important. It was like playing a role-playing game. He couldn't act out of line in his daily life.
William had a bit of a headache. If he were to be a freelancer, he would need a special skill. In this day and age, even being a beggar was a good job. William felt that as soon as he became a beggar, he would be caught by the Beggars' Sect that night and dealt with cleanly.
Just as William was racking his brain about how to make money, his phone rang. Listening to the ding-dong of his phone, William vaguely heard, "You have a new 'killed it?' order! Please check." But in reality, it was just an old-fashioned phone's text message notification sound.
William opened it and saw, "Hmm, no level requirement, no mission experience, and the pay isn't bad." So, he happily accepted the task.
The task approval process was very fast. It was practically instant. Then, a more detailed address was sent. It was a security task for a bar, and William's assigned area was the outer street corner.
It looked like an ordinary temporary job. At this time, William didn't know that such tasks would later be called 'cannon fodder tasks,' which were basically to gather some scapegoats. Clearly, the owner had offended someone.
At this moment, William was still happy about the upcoming part-time job. Earning money was always good, much better than just sitting around and depleting his savings.
He checked the time. Although the work started at 7 PM, he had to be on duty at 5 PM to change into his uniform. It seemed the manager had a lot to explain.
Soon, William set off. After explaining his purpose to the burly man in front of him, who weighed at least 300 pounds, he successfully entered the kitchen area.
Inside, several people were already waiting. Standing on the far left was a thin, lanky Black man, very tall, with a gun clearly hanging from his belt. The two in the middle were already sitting at the kitchen table, gnawing away, completely oblivious to their surroundings, which greatly attracted William's attention. It certainly wasn't because the two individuals in front of him were biologically male.
On the far right was a man in a tracksuit. He had no expression on his face, his eyes were hollow, and his half-alive, half-dead appearance perfectly matched the mental state of a modern worker. He had a very noticeable white dove tattoo on his hand, which looked very peaceful.
Seeing that no one was speaking, William also pretended to be calm and hid in the corner. His pretentious act made the others speechless; he clearly looked like a greenhorn. In our great American land, how could someone without calluses from a gun even get a job? The Hotel's membership standards were too low!
At this moment, the half-alive, half-dead guy scrutinized the 'living frozen meat' in front of him, and a look of seeing something of slight value finally appeared in his eyes.
"What's your name?" He looked at William and spoke his first words. The sudden question even made the two other guys pause their actions.
William looked at him, thought for a moment, and said, "William." It was better to speak less.
Upon hearing the name, the half-alive, half-dead guy looked at him again carefully, nodded, and then retreated to his corner to be half-alive, half-dead again.
Just as William was getting impatient and about to ask the classic line, "Have you heard my story?" a man in a suit walked in. He looked very amiable.
But as soon as he spoke, he shattered William's illusion. "Alright, you trash, change into your uniforms and get ready for work. We're not paying you such high wages to slack off."
He scanned the room as if picking out goods, evaluating each person as he looked: "Hmm, greenhorn, lanky, two idiots, nothing worth bothering with." At this point, he spotted a striking flash of white.
He looked at the half-alive, half-dead guy, and his tone softened considerably. "From the newspaper?" Seeing the half-alive, half-dead guy nod, the manager's head instantly swelled. Forgetting his lecture, he pressed his earpiece and began to report.
"Boss, the dove is here!" This was followed by a very fast-paced conversation that William couldn't understand at all. It seemed he wasn't exactly panicked, but at least he was anxious.
After some discussion, he told William and the others to change. He also assigned William a good spot: the alley entrance.
The alley entrance was at the back door of the bar, and besides a trash can, William had no other "companions" tonight.
As compensation for not being able to collect tips, William was given a suit, and the manager generously said he could keep the clothes.
Not bad, he earned something right at the start of work! His job was to guard this alley entrance and prevent others from entering.
Even for a novice like William, such a job carried a strong sense of crisis. If the protagonist in a movie wanted to rush in to complete a mission, he would most likely be the first to have his throat slit, without even getting a scene.
So, William observed the alley in front of him. How could he arrange things to ensure he survived tonight?
First, running was definitely not an option. William understood the importance of the social contract to these people; otherwise, everything would fall into chaos.
So, pretend not to see? William felt he wouldn't be that lucky. After all, he had no relationship with those uninvited guests who might arrive tonight.
Therefore, it seemed there was only one option left. William gripped the gun in his hand, its cold touch making his mind more active. He had to find a way to make a move!
Before that, he needed to make some modifications to this place.
It was 6 PM, still an hour and a half. Enough time to set things up a bit. He looked at his wallet with a pang of heartache; the joy of getting a free suit instantly vanished. William secretly gritted his teeth, "If I take another mission like this, I'm a dog!"
