Chapter 217 A choice to make
By this point, there was a single dynamic left inside the room.
Like two of its other brethren, it was attached to the ceiling. Like with its brethren, instead of reaching for it, Cutout was going to cut its cable.
He didn't even hear Michael's words, because Tristan's chanting drowned them out. But Tristan's ability to focus on several things at once was much better, just like his ability to hear and discern layered sounds.
For an instant, Tristan paused his hacking attempts.
In that instant, he was frantically thinking about how much Michael knew and how much Tristan should care about it, and what was the best course of action.
"Cutout, stop!" Tristan shouted an instant before the last dynamic could be removed. "Michael, tone the volume down and say it again."
Tristan covered the camera's lens with his hand and turned to Cutout. The man's face asked Tristan a silent question, to which Tristan replied with a gesture pointing to the outside.
Cutout nodded and walked out.
It was both to prevent him from being swayed by Michael's brainwashing and to prevent him from hearing any sensitive information.
After Cutout left and Tristan became silent, the building finally became quiet for a moment. It was a welcome rest for Tristan's ears, but it didn't last long.
"Your family, Hayes family. This is a common surname, but it wasn't impossible to track with my resources," Michael said smugly. "It was quite a story… From drunk driving to leading your own criminal enterprise! And even though your parents abandoned you a long time, Tristan, you still help the show business industry that feeds them! These leeches on society who can't even raise their kids right!"
Tristan picked a purple "for good vibes" stone from a nearby shelf and threw it at the last dynamic. It all happened before he even registered the anger within himself. The good vibes didn't bring Tristan any calm at all.
Throwing things was a part of the shooting skill, so the throw was as precise as they got. The stone made a hole in the dynamic, and it shut up with a last crack of static.
'Shit. I was supposed to talk with him for longer so this bastard doesn't drop the connection!' Tristan thought, now seething both at Michael and himself. 'I almost got his location, but it will be for nothing if he cuts the conversation here.'
The speech wasn't even the supernaturally compelling one. It was mostly an ordinary dig into Tristan's vulnerabilities. If it was made with the help of a system's skills, it wasn't in an obvious way.
Tristan focused on his phone and his tools to make up for his mistake. His anger made it hard to press the virtual buttons without cracking the phone screen, but this time, he held it together.
A dozen seconds later, Michael's sound came again, this time from the kitchen of the house. It was loud enough to hear from the living room.
"You care," Michael said with smugness. "As is right, Tristan. They are your parents. Our Lord told us to respect your elders, especially your father. But you don't have to protect all the celebrities for their sake."
Tristan scowled.
'He knows too much. Too much! It could only get worse if Michael found out about my second identity… But he seems to be clueless, if he thinks my blood relatives are the reason I'm hunting him. This is good. I should keep him thinking that.'
"What are you getting at? Your smugness won't make me more merciful when I meet you in person, Michael," Tristan said. Only the impossibly high acting skill let Tristan act mostly unaffected.
He could've pretended to be fully unaffected, but that would've defeated the purpose.
"We don't have to be enemies, Tristan Hayes. I will leave your family alone—for your sake—and you will leave me alone. But if you don't, then I will make sure they are sent to the Hell soon. With an explosion, or perhaps with an ordinary arson. Or simply a car crash? There are many options. My reach is far, and my word carries like none other, for it is the Holy Gospel, the Word of Our Lord!"
Tristan wanted to go and smash the second dynamic, too.
He also wanted to agree—if just because Michael asked. He was doing that thing of his again, making his words sound especially compelling. Not in "this is an order" way, but in a way that made them seem like the most logical and true thing.
Instead, Tristan pressed the last several keys on his phone keyboard. Half a second later, a window popped on the screen.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om
It was the IP address from which Michael was connected to this camera. And it wasn't a proxy-server this time—Tristan could tell with a glance.
"So you are threatening them… How ordinary. In my profession, this happens all the time, and now you are doing it too," Tristan said, barely paying any mind to what he was saying.
He was translating Michael's IP address into a position. Not because he couldn't do it later, but because he had a dark suspicion that he needed to check NOW.
Fifteen seconds later, Tristan found it to be true.
Michael was in his home city right now.
The same city where a rich mansion of the Hayes family stood in a gated community.
The same city where Tristan, with dreadful scars on his face, wandered on the streets for two years. These streets were so close and far from his home that in all this time, he had never crossed paths with anyone he knew.
These people didn't walk, they drove cars. Rich people.
Tristan was one of them now, but his profession required him to keep an ear to the ground, at least.
'And now… What am I going to do?' Tristan wondered.
His emotions were such a mess again. He didn't know what to make of them.
"This is your only chance. Leave this house now and forget all about me, Tristan Hayes, or you will truly become an orphan!"
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