American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 5 The Deadbeat
Beta's flight landed at Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport, but he didn't linger. He walked straight out of the terminal and went to a nearby café that offered paid computer services.

He walked up to the counter and said to the clerk in fluent French, "Bonjour, please give me an iced coffee, and I also need a paid computer."

Beta acted as naturally as a Parisian. The clerk didn't even look up, casually handing him a magnetic card and a cup of iced coffee.

He had just turned to leave the counter when he caught a glimpse of a man pushing open the door and entering. He was thin, tired, blond, and had a somewhat frail air about him.

Their eyes met briefly in the air.

Beta was certain he had never seen this person before, but in that instant, he keenly sensed a kindred spirit within him. Beneath that seemingly harmless and delicate exterior lurked a dangerous quality, like a knife hidden in velvet.

Beta didn't cause any trouble. He took his coffee to a computer, swiped his card to turn it on, and then sat down in a spot where he could observe the entire coffee shop without drawing attention.

At that moment, the man carrying the black suitcase also walked to this corner.

Their eyes met briefly again. The man nodded slightly, and Beta nodded in return. They understood each other implicitly; they were both in the same line of work, but strangers, and neither was paying the other to resolve the other's problems.

So, in a silent understanding, the man turned and walked to another suitable corner, each maintaining a safe distance.

Beta inserted the USB drive into the computer's port and watched the progress bar slowly advance.

He casually pulled out his phone, and a message popped up on the screen from an unknown number: "The pizza in Rome isn't as good as the one we make ourselves. >->"

A slight smile played on his lips as he tapped the screen with his fingertip: "[Haved tried it once, and wholeheartedly agree.]"

Once the progress bar finished loading, the original operating system was instantly replaced by an unfamiliar interface.

Beta skillfully opened the trading software and entered a concise message in the dialog box: Final payment? Please confirm.

A line of fluorescent green text popped up on the chat interface, from the system operator: "Contacting the other party, please wait."

This communication software has a unique design; it's not a real-time chat tool, but rather uses the operator as an intermediary to relay information. When both parties need to communicate, the system proactively establishes a connection.

The biggest advantage of this mechanism is that both parties in the transaction maintain perfect anonymity, and neither can track the other's true identity.

Safety is the most important thing in this industry.

Beta leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the table as he awaited a reply.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man with the black suitcase in the corner of the coffee shop. He had placed the suitcase at his feet and was staring intently at the computer screen, his long fingers typing rapidly on the keyboard.

Time ticked by, but Ashley still hadn't replied.

Beta knew perfectly well that she was probably busy protecting her employer.

That was a member of the Round Table family from Rome, one of the regulators of the Continental Hotel, who was probably in some turbulent situation at that moment.

Beta's acquaintance with Ashley was nothing short of absurd.

Beta is hired to assassinate Ashley's employer, while Ashley is tasked with eliminating Beta, the assassin.

Fate played a cruel trick; during their chase, the two fell into an icy cave simultaneously, and in the sub-zero temperatures, they were on the verge of becoming two frozen sculptures. In this life-or-death situation, these mortal enemies were forced to join forces to survive. They took refuge in an abandoned wooden hut, throwing everything they could burn—planks, furniture, even their clothes—into the stove. Just as their body heat was about to dissipate, a group of off-piste skiers happened to pass by and rescued the two barely alive.

Ashley's feelings for Beta stemmed from that near-death snowy night when the two huddled together in a dilapidated cabin, barely clinging to life, and Beta stuffed the last piece of chocolate he had found in the ruins into Ashley's mouth.

But in reality, this action had nothing to do with kindness. Beta's plan was quite practical: sharing the chocolate, half for each person, would at least give them a few more hours to survive, and the chances of two people surviving were much higher than one person surviving. But this woman, who lacked any sense of morality, actually swallowed the entire expired chocolate whole.

A beautiful misunderstanding was created by a series of unforeseen events.

In Ashley's eyes, Beta gave her his last chance at life in a life-or-death situation; but the truth was that the man had originally planned to share that pitiful amount of heat.

The absurdity of fate lies in the fact that these two sworn enemies, who should have been locked in a life-or-death struggle, ultimately sparked a flame of love on the brink of death. After they entwined on the soft bed of the hotel, an assassin and a bodyguard thus tacitly forged the most dangerous alliance, in the name of love.

There were no romantic confessions, no solemn promises, only two wounded souls who found warmth in each other in the darkness.

A sharp "ding!" from the computer pulled Beta back to reality from his reverie.

On the dark chat interface, a message in red text popped up: FUCK! U!

The information came from Beta's employer, a mysterious person he had never met before, who had hired him to assassinate the female reporter.

Beta frowned slightly, his fingertips paused on the keyboard for a moment, and he replied: ?

The other party quickly replied again: FUCKU
The doubt on Beta's face faded, replaced by a deathly stillness, like the calm before a blizzard, where even breathing became slow and restrained.

His lips remained perfectly still, without even the slightest twitch. If someone were to look at him at that moment, they would only see an ordinary citizen deep in thought, perhaps contemplating what to have for lunch, or something else entirely.

But deep within those eyes, a murderous intent surged like an undercurrent beneath the ice. His gaze slowly swept across the words on the screen, each letter leaving a burning mark on his retina.

The noise from the café suddenly faded away, as if the world had been shut out by a transparent membrane. Beta tapped the table lightly with his right index finger.

Beta had encountered employers who tried to renege on their debts before, but this was the first time one had dared to send "FUCK U" so arrogantly while doing so.

Beta rubbed the stiff stubble on his chin with his thumb, his gaze fixed on the line of blood-red "FUCK U".

After staring for a good ten seconds, he forced out a cold, angry laugh from his nose: "Ha!"

There are 15 days left until July 25th.

Before flying to New York, Beta decided to return to London to personally "visit" the employer she had never met but who dared to speak so rudely.

He deftly pulled out the USB drive, and as he stood up, the chair scraped against the floor with a sharp screech.

He's really angry right now.

======
Dear readers, please give me your monthly tickets, recommendation tickets, and continue reading!
======
　Another character appears.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)