Chapter 11: False Appearances

Gu Wen replied calmly, “When I walked into this room, I told you that you would be the one to die, not me.”

Dewitt said, “That depends on whether you've got what it takes!” He meant to attack as he spoke, but a second later his expression soured. He'd discovered he couldn't move a muscle. “What have you done?!”

Gu Wen laughed. “Ha, when I cut off Mr. Lucchese's head, you should have realized I was an ability user. But you were still too arrogant. You assumed I was Normal rank at most, just like you.” He stepped away from the minibar and walked slowly toward Joseph's bed. “So you decided to let me finish, get answers to all your questions, then kill me to vent your anger.” Gu Wen flicked a finger, and Joseph's right hand, still holding the gun, was severed as easily as his head had been. The cut was as clean as the one across his neck.

The severed hand rose eerily into the air and flew over to Gu Wen. He gripped the severed wrist with one hand and reached in front of the trigger with the other to brace Joseph's finger. “Actually, my assessed rank really isn't high. I'm only Paper rank. But a mediocrity like you naturally assumes the higher rank always wins.” Gu Wen returned to Dewitt, holding a dead man's hand, and aimed the gun it held at Dewitt's heart.

“Wait... There's no bad blood between us!” Dewitt blurted in panic. “You don't need to kill me. I admit I'm incompetent! I'm arrogant! I'm not fit to work for you. I can disappear from your sight! I'll never impersonate Gu Wen again!”

“No, I need you to impersonate Gu Wen,” Gu Wen said. “Tonight, Gu Wen, meaning you, sneaked into Joseph's bedroom. The alert Mafia godfather shot you first, and before you breathed your last, you used your ability to kill him in return. But you succumbed to your wounds soon afterward. I imagine that's what the police report will eventually say.” He smiled. “As for that bad blood you mentioned... A minute ago there was just as little ‘bad blood’ between us, yet weren't you eager to see me dead? Putting on this begging act now is both laughable and pathetic. Someone like you, forever stumbling from one miscalculation to the next, wants to tell me what's ‘necessary’?

“Hmph... Let me tell you why you have to die.

“I was pursuing both objectives at once. Helping the Opium Club remove the two major families in its way was business, while testing your abilities was a private matter. Success in either meant failure in the other. I'd either complete the job and lose an unsuitable test subject, or gain a suitable assistant and lose a deal. I stood to gain from either outcome.

“Now you've failed the test, so you're no longer worth anything to me. But given what you've done, that idiot Sonny should soon let slip that he thinks you're Gu Wen. Then you'll be worth something again. Your corpse can impersonate me one last time. I think playing a dead man should be well within your acting abilities, especially if you take the role after you're dead. Then you'll just be playing yourself.

“The police aren't you. They'll investigate a great many things thoroughly, and the name Mike Byron will soon come up too. Your corpse can confuse them, draw their attention, and buy me time to leave this city. Whatever conclusions the police ultimately reach about the intelligence hacker in this case who posed as a university student, Gu Wen will reappear online before long. Your death will merely add a little more to my legend.”

Dewitt struggled desperately a few more times, but still couldn't move. Sweat covered his face, making his current vagrant guise look all the more wretched. His eyes were already filled with terror, and a roar like that of a cornered beast rose from his throat.

Gu Wen suddenly seemed to remember something. “Oh,” he said, then delivered his final words to Dewitt. “Actually, I'm a year older than you. I doubt you'll ever be entitled to call me ‘kid’ in this lifetime. As for ‘Four-Eyes’...” He took off his glasses and tossed them away. “These aren't prescription lenses. My eyesight is quite good. I only wear them for the role. So if you go to another world after you die, please remember that you were killed by the great Mr. Gu Wen, and that you also own a whole damn fortune in intangible assets!”

A gunshot ended Dewitt's life. Gu Wen was an agnostic. He thought God might exist, or Earth might simply be an ant farm controlled by aliens, or perhaps he himself existed only in someone else's imagination... Whatever the case, he was just giving it a try. Perhaps those last remarks would turn out to be a chance to make a name for himself in the underworld ahead of time.

...

The next day, Gu Wen finished packing, slung a travel bag across his body, destroyed a few things that might become evidence, and left the apartment.

At nine that morning, he arrived at an alley.

This was Opium Club territory. Few pedestrians passed through, and people generally came here to buy drugs. But today not a single dealer was out, and the alley was unusually quiet.

Gu Wen hadn't waited long before a car pulled up, stopped, and cut its engine. Four men got out. Their leader was Juan Rosell, the boss of the Opium Club. The other three were his second-in-command, his consigliere, and his personal bodyguard.

This wasn't the first time Gu Wen had met them. Since they were in the same city, he'd suggested collecting the deposit in cash, in person. It saved a good deal of trouble and gave these low-end clients more confidence in him. Like old people who distrusted online shopping, they always felt that the furtive rendezvous gangster films made so much of were what a real transaction should look like.

The two sides exchanged polite greetings, though Juan and his men wore rather odd expressions. They looked pleased, but there seemed to be something else lurking in their eyes. Naturally, none of this escaped Gu Wen's keen eye. He said nothing for the moment, merely hoping these clients wouldn't do anything stupid.

“The Lucchese and Genovese families have been rooted out of the city, and you've taken the opportunity to absorb a fair amount of their territory and their remaining men. All the Opium Club needs to do now is expand its operations and take over the markets they've left vacant. In less than a month, you can become a major new power in Chicago. Whether you can rule unchallenged will depend on your own abilities.” Once Gu Wen judged that they'd exchanged enough pleasantries, he got down to business. “Now, about the remaining three hundred thousand...”

Juan answered readily, “Ah, of course. You've earned it.” He snapped his fingers, and the bodyguard behind him stepped forward and produced an oilcloth bundle. Judging by its size, it looked about right.

Gu Wen said, “No briefcase? Open it up and let me take a look, then. I don't want to walk away with a bundle of newspapers.”

The bodyguard glanced at Juan, who nodded. He took out the small knife he carried and began opening the oilcloth.

Just as everyone's eyes were on the bundle, Juan suddenly drew a gun and pointed it at Gu Wen's head. “I have to do this. Sorry, pal.”

That explained their strange behavior earlier. Gu Wen gave a contemptuous snort. “Really? This isn't a joke? Mr. Rosell, you've gained so much, yet you're unwilling to pay me the final three hundred thousand. How do you expect to accomplish anything great with such a petty attitude?”

The three men beside Juan drew their weapons too. “Enough talk!”

But in that instant, all their heads fell to the ground, severed cleanly. Their bodies toppled a few seconds later.

Gu Wen sighed. “These days, from royalty and aristocrats down to thugs and hoodlums, every last one of them... Their standards just keep slipping. Why threaten my life over such a small sum...”