The Gunmen's Dilemma

Henry, having both acted in and watched a play, sat on the ground, laughing smugly. But a laugh alone will gradually fade. His mood will eventually calm down.

He whirled around, looking at the gunmen who had surrounded him earlier, and asked, "Aren't you going to chase after that fat black guy? You should know that I'm alone, unarmed, and can't stop you."

"Oh, you speak so shrewdly." One of the gunmen stepped forward, his voice sounding familiar to Henry.

Upon closer reflection, he remembered that the man in the black suit was the same guy he had met over a year ago when he was working as a bouncer at a luxury banquet. A group of gunmen had stormed in, and a seasoned gunman had grabbed the target and killed him. The man in front of him was the one speaking.

So, this group of people is from the Continental Hotel again? Henry overheard Tony Stark and Alex Hart's private conversation in the study, which is why he could guess where this group came from.

But so what? When it's time to play dumb, the acting skills have to be on point. Henry feigned ignorance, adjusting his tattered clothes and saying, "Look at all these holes in my body. I'm the victim. It has nothing to do with you."

He chuckled softly. But this gunman, who looked to be nearing retirement age, was accompanied by two strange men.

One of them revealed a blue-faced, fanged appearance, his face stretched to an extreme beyond what a normal person could imagine, making him look as if he were about to pounce on Henry.

The other person's arms rippled with white light, which gradually transformed into a hard, solid substance.

But the gunman stopped the two men. He squatted down in front of Henry and said, "You know, we were supposed to attack yesterday. The employer's order was to kill everyone in this house, leave no one alive."

"We only delayed by a day to make extra preparations after receiving intelligence that you had joined the councilor's camp. Now it seems the situation is different from what everyone expected."

"So," Henry asked, looking at the two who showed no sign of stopping, "They are the ones you were talking about preparing?"

One appears to be Vampires, the other Mutants. Does the Continental Hotel recruit such people? It's not like there's a rule that the Continental Hotel must be a purely human organization...

The old gunman squatting in front of him asked curiously, "Are they useful?"

"I don't know, I'm curious too." Henry countered, "What would you do What If...? you couldn't achieve your employer's goals?"

"You're not the primary target, so at the very least, we need to keep you occupied."

"So your main target got away. In that sense, I guess I played the role of protector," Henry said, trying to justify himself.

The old gunman stood up and said, "Heh, the ones attacking from the backyard are the Russian Mob, and Baba Yaga is in there too. If that black guy wants to escape, he'll at least have to ask the X-Men for help."

"However, What If...? this level of gunfight happened in New York, it would indeed be more useful for the senator to contact the X-Men than to call 911. But this is Los Angeles on the West Coast. By the time the X-Men arrive, he'll be long dead."

"Oh, so should we be happy for you, or should we feel sorry for the councilors?"

"What If...? you're worried about someone recording you or using your testimony in court, then you should feign shedding a few tears for that Black congressman. That'll show you're distancing yourself from us."

Hearing this, Henry knew that his previous actions had been observed. Pretending not to be embarrassed at all, he asked, "Can I go home now? Wearing this, I'll catch a cold in this weather."

Henry's fingers peeked out from the hole in his clothes, feigning innocence.

The old gunman shrugged helplessly. "Didn't I say the employer wants everyone here dead, not a single one spared? Your situation is quite special; it seems you want to remain an outsider. I'm not entirely confident I can kill you."

"So we have no choice but to have you come with us to see the hotel manager and see how she plans to handle this situation. I think this is better for you than having us issue a kill order without any regard for the consequences."

Henry, dressed in tattered clothes that were worse than beggar's attire, stood up and said, "You mean, only if I go with you to that hotel or something, will this matter be resolved?"

"The Continental Hotel in Los Angeles, the only assassin's sanctuary on the West Coast." The veteran gunman glanced at the young man before him and added, "You can refuse, but we'll have no choice but to carry out our employer's original objective. You know that."

The veteran gunslinger's slickness was on full display at this moment, almost like a direct confrontation with Henry's feigned ignorance.

One person acting can claim they're just playing dumb to laugh at a group farce. But if two people are acting, it can go on and on.

Henry was impatient with this evenly matched confrontation and said, "Going with you is fine, I have no weapons and can't fight back anyway. But could you find me a pair of pants to wear? It's not very polite to go to the hotel like this. I don't want to be kicked out by the concierge."

Although Henry himself was bulletproof, his clothes weren't. And having just been bombarded with gunfire, the shooters didn't care where they were aiming; as long as the bullets hit people, that was enough.

Henry, knocked to the ground, just kept crying out in pain as he took the bullets, without consciously controlling which side he was hit more or less. This meant that while he wasn't in immediate danger of being naked, he was at risk of exposing himself.

He only realized this after he stood up. If he were a little less embarrassed, he wouldn't be covering his private parts like a little girl, crouching down and screaming in embarrassment.

The veteran gunman also saw the rather unseemly scene, but instead of letting him go inside to find clothes, he took off his suit jacket and threw it at Henry, saying, "Here, take this. Remember to return it."

Henry took the suit jacket and noticed something unusual about the texture. He asked, "What kind of wool is this? It's so heavy."

"Kevlar fiber; it can't be penetrated by most small handguns."

"Oh, bulletproof." A signature feature of the Continental Hotel series: bulletproof suits. Every man should own one! Even Henry is considering it.

There's no way around it; you're bulletproof yourself, but your clothes aren't. You didn't die, but the police killed you. You might as well have just died.

Henry didn't use the suit jacket to cover his manhood directly. Instead, he altered his tattered shirt and tied it around his waist to cover the unsightly part. At least the back was still largely intact and could serve as a cover.

Then put on a suit jacket so you wouldn't be running around shirtless in this damn winter.

The veteran gunslinger was quite pleased with Henry's actions. If Henry had actually used his clothes to cover his genitals, he would have had to consider whether he should throw the suit away later.

In fact, he regretted it after lending the clothes out. Fortunately, Henry didn't.

He addressed everyone, "Let's go back to the hotel and collect the reward. The cleanup team can handle things here."

Someone said to him, "The target hasn't been captured yet."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the gunfight that had been raging in the distance fell silent, followed by three consecutive gunshots, "Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The veteran gunman chuckled, "You young people, you probably don't know what 'Baba Yaga' from the Russian Mob means, do you?"

Now no one doubted the old gunman's instructions anymore, and they all put away their guns and turned back.