Nobel Had No Prize in Mathematics

Chief George looked at Alvin in confusion. "Do you know where we can find one of those things?"

Alvin gave him a mysterious smile. "I have an informant in Hell's Kitchen who knows a few things. I'll be able to flush that thing out of its den soon."

Chief George said uneasily, "If you're going to take action, you need to tell me. I'll arrange for officers to back you up. I know you've got a few capable people working for you, especially Frank Castle, but those things are dangerous. I don't want anything to go wrong."

Chief George's expression darkened at the mention of Frank. He seemed to know what had really happened.

Alvin smiled casually. "It's fine. Having more people won't help against that sort of thing. If my guess is right, then as long as we find the right method, even our little Ginny can handle one."

As he spoke, Alvin gave Ginny a little pinch on the nose. "Once we catch one, I'll let you know so you can come see it. But be prepared: they're probably the troublesome kind of thing I suspect. At least, for you!"

Chief George looked puzzled. "Why would they be troublesome for me? What about you?"

Alvin scooped Ginny up and spun her around in the air. "Because I can kill as many of those things as come at me. But you..." He paused meaningfully. "Here's a hint: those things might have been around for years, and they may have a large population. So why don't you know anything about them?"

Chief George sucked in a breath and thumped the table, cursing under his breath. "Those S.H.I.E.L.D. sons of bitches must know something, but they're too afraid to tell me." Looking a little dejected, he turned to Alvin. "You could be wrong, couldn't you?"

Alvin shrugged. "Sure. That's why I'm going to check for myself. If these things really exist, Hell's Kitchen will be their graveyard."

Chief George was a man of strong convictions. Perhaps Alvin's casual manner had reassured him, and he'd said that with the right method, those things wouldn't be hard to deal with. There might be trouble down the road, but for now, George decided to pour himself a beer.

Alvin handed Chief George the beer and asked somewhat nervously, "George, my friend, have you thought about what we talked about yesterday—your daughter?"

George took a sip and shot Alvin a sidelong look. "It wasn't until I got home yesterday that I remembered there's no Nobel Prize in Mathematics. You should check whether that professor you mentioned faked his Record."

Alvin scratched his head awkwardly. That was the downside of not going to school much. Even a boast could be exposed in no time. Still, seeing Jessica looking utterly clueless at the mention of the Nobel Prize made Alvin feel a little better.

"Slip of the tongue, slip of the tongue. Once this is over, I'll invite you and your Wife to come visit our school and look around. What? Bring your daughter too? No need! Kids just need to focus on school. Choosing a school is best left to the parents." Alvin tried to persuade Chief George.

Chief George was tempted. The terms Alvin had mentioned earlier were very appealing to the father of a beautiful daughter. After all, he couldn't keep an eye on her every day, and there were far too many bad boys around these days.

After giving it some thought, George said, "Then I'll arrange a time to visit once this is over. I hope everything you told me is true, my friend!"

Alvin thumped his chest. "Trust me. No parent can visit my school and turn it down. It'll be the cradle of the Ivy League."

"I hope so!" Chief George downed his beer and said goodbye as he left the Restaurant.

Watching the Chief drive away drunk once again, Alvin gave a scornful snort. "A hypocritical bastard who knows the law and breaks it anyway. Next time I get a ticket, I'll give them your name. If you don't make it go away, I'll report you."

Late at night, Alvin and JJ were sorting through some equipment in the Main Hall of the Peace Hotel.

Alvin held up a net gun made from a modified Shotgun. "Is this thing sturdy?"

Excitedly, JJ stuffed Rifle Magazines into his vest. "Don't worry, Boss. Once this thing catches something, even an Elephant won't be able to break free."

Seeing how excited he was, Alvin thought about what they were likely to run into. He took all the weapons off JJ and handed him an old Remington Shotgun and an old 1911 Pistol made by Springfield.

"If we don't catch it, use this to kill it." He offered no further explanation, just hanging a Glock 17 Pistol from his belt.

Alvin had modified all these guns, engraving them with the Rune "Eth." They would inflict massive damage on the Undead—a perfect remedy for the problem. What, silver bullets? That was for rich folks. Alvin definitely didn't have that kind of money. But he had a Cheat, didn't he?

He could bring silver-plated knives, though. Sulking, JJ followed his boss's orders and took along a silver-plated table knife no longer than his palm and no wider than a finger. He remembered it was a gift from Old Kent, who used to specialize in fencing stolen goods. After he went straight, he gave Alvin all the fine tableware he had.

Once everything was ready, Alvin went upstairs to check on his sleeping daughter. He kissed the top of her head and tucked in her blanket. Then he checked on Nick. That kid could kick the covers off with just one leg. He was bound to go far.

Glancing at Jessica's tightly shut door, Alvin smiled and shook his head, then went downstairs to meet JJ and head out.

Beside the old Pickup Truck, Frank leaned against the passenger-side door, Fully Armed. Impatiently, he said, "I've been waiting forever. What took you so long?"

Did I ask you to come along, buddy? Alvin grumbled inwardly, but he felt reassured all the same. That was what family felt like. I don't ask what's going on; if you're going to fight, I grab my weapons and come with you.

Alvin looked over Frank's gear: two FN SCAR Assault Rifles, two Xenomorphs-sized submachine guns, two Pistols, and magazines all over his Tactical Vest.

He nudged JJ, whose eyes were full of envy, then said to Frank, "Buddy, this isn't Iraq, and we're not going to war. We're just hunting a little animal. Isn't this a bit over the top?"

Frank looked at the equipment Alvin and JJ had, then at his own. It did seem a little excessive. He smiled awkwardly. "Bring it along. If we don't use it, we can leave it in the car."

JJ nodded furiously, gazing at Frank's gear with envy. Look at what he had: an ancient Remington and a clearly secondhand 1911 Pistol. Then look at Frank's.

Alvin smiled and nodded. Suit yourself. He went back into the Restaurant's basement and returned a moment later, tossing Frank a Remington similar to JJ's. "Your guns might not work on those little animals. Take this."

Frank fiddled with the Shotgun. He didn't question Alvin's judgment, just nodded to show he understood.

JJ drove while Alvin sat in the passenger seat and gave directions. In the back, Frank took off most of his guns, leaving only a Colt 1911 at his waist. He loaded the Remington Shotgun one shell at a time.

Alvin stuck his hand out the window and tapped the roof a few times in a steady rhythm. "Let's go."