"Me? A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?"
Perkins was stunned.
She hadn't expected that Russell would actually suspect her of being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
For an assassin, this was a serious suspicion.
It could even be a potentially life-threatening suspicion.
Any assassin would naturally be wary of official agency operatives.
Whether those operatives were from S.H.I.E.L.D., the FBI, the CIA, MI6, or even former KGB agents from the now-dissolved Soviet intelligence agency, the KGB, they would all trigger caution from assassins.
More importantly, assassins were not police; they didn't need what was commonly called evidence.
As long as they had suspicions, they might eliminate you.
Whether there might be cases of mistaken identity wasn't within the assassins' considerations.
Russell remained silent, calmly gazing at Perkins.
Whether Perkins was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or not, he couldn't be certain. He only harbored this suspicion.
After all, in his memories, there was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who looked identical to Perkins.
"Why do you think I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?" Perkins reverted to her icy beauty demeanor, frowning as she asked.
"Gut feeling!"
Gut feeling?
Hearing Russell's response, Perkins nearly couldn't resist pulling out her gun and shooting him right then and there.
Just because of a gut feeling, he suspects she a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?
"Do you realize how much trouble this kind of suspicion could cause me?"
Perkins was truly unhappy now.
Considering Russell's reputation, if others were to find out that he suspected Perkins to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, fellow assassins might indeed mistake her for one. With her existing grudges among her peers, she might become a target for assassination sooner or later.
"I'm well aware of that, which is why I've never mentioned this suspicion to anyone else."
Russell poured himself another glass of whiskey, taking a sip with calm composure.
Seeing Russell's unchanged expression of tranquility, Perkins wished she could bite him a few times right now.
"I'm not a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!"
Before leaving, Perkins spoke with intense seriousness.
Afterwards, she left the bar.
With Perkins gone, Russell patiently awaited the hotel's intelligence.
He had no intention of returning to the office until the Punisher was dealt with.
As he waited, noon arrived.
Hotel, restaurant.
Russell sat alone in the restaurant, enjoying his solitary lunch.
At this moment, the well-dressed Charon approached his table.
"Mr. Bradley, here is the information you requested."
Charon handed a piece of paper to Russell.
"Thank you."
"Is there anything else you need, sir?" Charon asked.
With the information in hand, Russell would normally head out immediately to take care of the Punisher. If he was to set out for an assassination, he would need the proper weaponry and equipment.
"Is the armorer available in the hotel now?"
"He should be."
Charon smiled in response.
The armorer was the hotel's firearms supplier.
As for why the person supplying firearms was referred to as an "armorer," it was probably because both alcohol and bullets could lay people flat.
Laying down his utensils, Russell made his way to the hotel's tasting room.
In the tasting room, he saw the armorer, someone he had encountered countless times before.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Bradley!"
Like Charon, the armorer was also impeccably dressed in a black suit.
The only difference was that the armorer wasn't Black but White.
"I'd like to sample."
In contrast to a normal tasting room, firearms of various kinds were displayed on the racks instead of wine.
Handguns, rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, daggers, grenades...
Full-auto, semi-auto, specialized modifications...
All weapons were neatly categorized.
"I know you used to prefer German varieties, but I highly recommend the new Austrian variants this time, the Glock 26 and Glock 34."
"You sampled the Glock 26 last time. How did you find it?" The armorer pulled out two handguns from the cabinet, placing them before Russell.
"The feel was alright!" Russell responded.
"Then you should appreciate the improvements in this new variant."
"Reshaped grip, flared mag well for easier reloading, you'll definitely like its custom modifications."
The armorer introduced the improved new variant, while Russell picked up the Glock 26 and 34 from the table, assessing them practically.
Externally, the Glock 26 and 34 brought out by the armorer didn't display any particularly conspicuous changes compared to their standard counterparts.
However, when held in hand, the differences became apparent.
It had to be said that modified versions were slightly more comfortable than factory ones.
After experiencing them firsthand, Russell set down the two handguns and continued, "Are there more accurate and powerful options?"
"Powerful... Accurate..."
After some thought, the armorer pulled an automatic rifle from the cabinet.
"AR-15, 11.5-inch barrel, ion-coated breech, equipped with a Geissele 1-6x scope."
Like the earlier Glock 26 and 34, this AR-15 was clearly a specially modified variant.
"That'll work, I'll take these."
Two handguns and an automatic rifle.
These armaments might not appear exceedingly potent, but for Russell, they were more than sufficient.
These three weapons were specifically for use with the Bullet Curving technique. If it was just a matter of eliminating the Punisher, his symbiote ability would suffice.
Having acquired the Bullet Curving technique, he hadn't had a chance to use it in actual combat.
This time, he planned to put the Punisher to the test.
Queens.
Beneath a certain abandoned building.
After acquiring the firearms from the armorer, Russell arrived in his Porsche 911.
According to the hotel's intelligence, the Punisher was currently in this abandoned building.
To gain this information, two intelligence personnel had paid with their lives.
This was also the primary reason the expedited fee had been four gold coins.
Surveying the building that had been abandoned for an indeterminate amount of time from his car, Russell stepped out carrying the bag containing the rifle and handguns.
His plan for this operation was simple—direct confrontation.
However, just after stepping out of the car, he sensed that something was off.
Someone was watching him!
Though Russell lacked telepathic or similar superhuman abilities, he had been an assassin for over two years.
When he had driven here, he hadn't sensed anyone tailing him.
But once he exited the car, the sensation of being watched became extraordinarily clear.
The symbiote within him was like a drum being beaten near his ear, warning him.
Police? Or S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Russell turned to look toward the corner of the street behind him, eyeing the car parked at the roadside.
Regardless!
Even if it were police or S.H.I.E.L.D., it didn't matter.
Russell disregarded the enigmatic watchers, clutching the bag containing the rifle as he walked into the abandoned building.
This towering abandoned structure had over twenty stories, and the Punisher's safehouse was on the fifteenth floor.
Due to its abandonment, the building's elevators had ceased operation long ago.
Upon entering, Russell retrieved the rifle from the bag, disengaging the safety.
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