I'm Your Father

Whether it was her figure, looks, or even her bearing, Fire Fox ranked among the very finest beauties. A beauty was indeed a beauty, and a goddess was indeed a goddess, but Russell knew perfectly well how dangerous she was. Besides, this goddess did not belong to him, so naturally, he showed no mercy.

After getting up, Russell looked at the unconscious Fire Fox, picked up the M9 from the tracks, and aimed it at her head. The Character Card had expired by then. After hesitating for a moment, he lowered the gun.

Fire Fox could die, but she could not die by his hand. Otherwise, Wesley would fight him to the death.

After thinking it over, Russell looked at the motionless, alluring figure on the ground and pulled off his belt... then flipped Fire Fox over and tied her hands behind her back.

Then he pulled off Fire Fox's belt... and tied up her feet as well.

Russell searched Fire Fox all over, confirming she had no tracker on her. Only then did he grab the belt around her ankles and drag her over to the pickup truck. He tossed her into the open truck bed, wrapped her up like a dumpling with a tarp, then clapped his hands and opened the door.

In the rearview mirror, Russell looked at the bruises on his face. He opened the system interface, took out Medicated Alcohol, and rubbed it on. The effect was excellent; soon, he was once again that handsome, sunny young man.

"Ring-ring-ring~~~ Ring-ring-ring~~~ Ring-ring-ring~~~"

Russell found the phone beneath the seat. It was Cross calling, so he answered directly. "How did it go?"

Cross sounded a little dejected. "Terribly. I subdued Wesley and told him I was his father, but he wouldn't listen at all. He even said he wanted to kill me."

Russell raised a brow. "So?"

"I knocked him out. Go back to the factory and wait for me. We'll talk when I get there."

"Fine!"

"How about your side? Did you get rid of Fire Fox? Be careful not to let her track you."

"No. I captured her alive!"

Cross paused for two seconds, sounding displeased. "Why capture her alive? That's too risky. You should have killed her outright."

The corner of Russell's mouth curled up. "The situation was a little complicated. All I can say is, if I killed her, neither you nor Wesley would let me off."

"Why?"

"You might not believe this, but she said she was carrying Wesley's child!"

"..."

At the lathe factory, Russell tied Fire Fox to a secured chair. After waiting for around two hours, Cross finally returned, carrying the unconscious Wesley over his shoulder.

Looking at Fire Fox's swollen pig-head face, Cross's eyelid twitched. If he remembered correctly, Fire Fox was carrying Wesley's child. After such a savage beating, would the baby be hurt?

Russell took Wesley from him and expertly tied him to a chair. Until Wesley believed Cross was his biological father, it was better to keep him restrained.

The unconscious Wesley suddenly felt a chill on his face. When he woke up, he saw Russell standing before him, holding a cup of water. In an unfamiliar place, facing a stranger whose face practically screamed ill intent, Wesley's first thought was to escape as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, his hands and feet were tied. After struggling a few times, he gave up.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

The Brotherhood's training had been remarkably effective. Leaving everything else aside, if this had been the loser version of Wesley from two weeks ago, he would already have been sobbing that he had no money and begging to be spared.

Russell did not answer. He stepped aside, revealing Cross behind him.

Seeing Wesley tied hand and foot, Cross softened. He put on the face of a loving father, but the heartwarming scene of father and son embracing and weeping never appeared. The moment Wesley saw the unconscious Fire Fox beside him, he began cursing Cross nonstop, spraying his face with spit.

"Fuck! You bastard who should rot in hell, I curse you..."

Those were not Wesley's exact words, but that was roughly what they meant in translation. Cross looked completely bewildered, and even Russell was stunned by Wesley's ferocity.

Worthy of being the original protagonist—when he got ruthless, he did not even spare himself!

Wesley was in an awful mood. After learning from the Brotherhood, he had thought he would carve through his enemies, successfully kill Cross, and avenge his father. Instead, Cross had thoroughly beaten him on the train.

His curved shooting looked utterly childish before Cross. Once he ran out of bullets, Cross pinned him to the ground and beat the hell out of him, even forcing him to call him Dad.

Wesley had suffered humiliation like never before. He fought back, only to get beaten again.

During that time, Cross had used a leather shoe, a belt, a broom handle, and a whole series of crime tools, whipping Wesley until he rolled all over the floor. Perhaps the image of a loving father and dutiful son was simply too vivid. Cross had only ever seen it with other families, and as his first experience, it felt pretty good. Getting carried away, he gave Wesley a few extra lashes with the belt.

After getting brutally beaten, Wesley faced Cross's humiliating demand to call him Dad once more. He spat in Cross's face and was knocked out with a single punch.

Wesley had thought he was doomed, that his body would be buried somewhere in the wilderness and dug up by archaeologists centuries later, his skull displayed in a museum. Yet when he woke up, he discovered that he was still alive. His goddess, Fire Fox, was here too, except her face was swollen like a pig's head. If not for her clothes, he truly would not have recognized her.

A pig head was one thing, but why were her breasts uneven too?

Seeing his beloved goddess abused, Wesley exploded on the spot. He unleashed a torrent of abuse at Cross, roughly saying that whatever Cross wanted, he should take it out on him—what kind of man beat women? Wesley had been timid before and rarely argued with others, so his insults only amounted to the same few phrases over and over.

Things like, "May your son be born without a dick," "May your son be born without an asshole," or "If he has one, may he have two!"

Cross's reaction once again exceeded Wesley's expectations. He had thought Cross would fly into a rage and subject him to the same torture Fire Fox had endured.

Instead, Cross showed no intention of laying a hand on him. He merely looked at Wesley as though he were an idiot. Russell, standing nearby, did the same, his eyes full of admiration and respect. Wesley was starting to feel a little embarrassed.

The room fell silent for a while. Russell poured himself a glass of water and stood to the side as a spectator, allowing the father and son to perform to their hearts' content.

Cross once again lowered Russell's estimation of top-tier assassins. He might be cold-hearted and unfazed when killing people, but when facing his biological son, he became somewhat hesitant and submissive. He kept repeating just one sentence: "I'm your father." His words were empty and pale, carrying no persuasion whatsoever.

Wesley was stubborn too. He had already decided that Big Slick was his biological father, so he relentlessly cursed Cross, wishing that any son he had would be born without an asshole.

After watching for so long, Russell finally could not hold back his laughter.

Cross glared at him. He could laugh at such a touching scene? Did he have any humanity at all?

"Seriously, you're the most pathetic father I've ever seen. Stand aside and watch. This is the proper way to educate a rebellious son!"

Russell shoved Cross aside. He no longer held any hope for this lousy assassin's ability to organize words and decided to act personally. He splashed a cup of hot water onto Wesley's face, then, amid his screams, threw a right hook.

Cross's eyelids twitched wildly. He nearly pulled his gun and took Russell out, but ultimately held himself back. He decided to watch first. If Russell failed to convince Wesley, he would return that punch his son had taken.

Russell placed both hands on Wesley's shoulders and said pleasantly, "Kid, you're too worked up. That isn't good for our friendly conversation. If you've calmed down, nod. If not, I'll punch you again until you calm down. Now tell me, are you calm?"

You're the one who needs to calm down!

Wesley grumbled inwardly. Looking at Russell's smiling expression, he felt uncertain and nodded to show that he had calmed down.

People were like that. Being pleasant could not earn tolerance or understanding; it only made others push their luck. Only a fierce face and a few fists could make them listen properly. In summary, it came down to one word: asking for a beating!

"Listen, I know you're the type who clings to a belief once you've made up your mind. You think Big Slick is your father, so you won't believe anything Cross says."

"Who's Big Slick?"

Russell was speechless. He rummaged through the table and found the crossed-out photo. The instant Wesley saw it, he became extremely agitated again, but when Russell raised his fist, he immediately behaved.

Russell tore up Big Slick's photo. "He isn't your father, and you aren't related by blood. You were deceived. That weathered, stubbly guy is your real dad."

"Don't try to fool me. He killed my father!"

Russell smiled contemptuously. "Why did you believe the Brotherhood when they told you Big Slick was your father, yet deny it when I tell you Cross is your father?"

Wesley frowned. "Isn't that only natural?"

Russell shook his head. "If Big Slick really were your father, then I should be the one who killed your father. What, didn't Sloan tell you that I was the one who killed Big Slick on the rooftop?"

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