Chapter 7

Alvin’s nonchalant demeanor made Butler, already suspicious, hesitate uncertainly.

CIA?

No, impossible!

Butler dismissed the guess—he and the CIA were collaborators; the agency wouldn’t go out of its way like this.

More importantly, even the CIA didn’t know where Rebecca was.

That left only one possibility... Butler’s temple twitched, his expression shifting between fury and doubt, his voice low and hoarse with rage: “Are you from the Wot Group?”

“Mr. Butler, I must remind you,” Alvin kicked the unconscious invisible man beside him with his leather shoe, a cryptic smile on his lips: “Just now, you and this man named Huey attacked one of the Seven Titans—the invisible man. That’s a crime.”

These words snapped both men back to reality—they stared at the shattered glass littering the floor and the bloodied invisible man, facing a deadly question:

One of the Seven Titans, the invisible man, had discovered Huey planting a bug inside the Wot Group—and had been taken down by the two of them.

If the Wot Group found out, Butler was certain they’d be chopped into pieces the next day and dumped straight into the Pacific, with a public announcement of suicide out of guilt.

Especially Huey—he was just an ordinary man, suddenly dragged into this mess, and now he was panicking.

“We’re dead, dead... We’re finished, Butler!”

Huey was clearly an ordinary man with weak psychological resilience; the charge of attacking a Seven Titan would land him in prison for life.

“Help me move him into the trunk,” Butler gave Alvin a long look, then shouted at the stunned Huey: “Hey, can you stop standing there like an idiot? Get over here and help—another person sees this and we’re in deep trouble!”

“Wait, aren’t you a federal agent?”

Huey suddenly remembered something, grasping at a lifeline, and stared nervously at Butler: “Call the federal government right away—you’re good at handling stuff like this, right?”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Butler isn’t a federal agent.”

Alvin, watching Butler’s discomfort, bluntly exposed his identity: “At best, he’s got some covert cooperation with the CIA.”

“Shut up!”

Butler’s face turned green with rage; he glared at Alvin, then turned to Huey and barked: “Stop standing there like a fool—get over here and help!”

“Friendly reminder: the invisible man isn’t dead—just electrocuted into unconsciousness.”

Alvin looked like he was enjoying the show.

“Thank God, that’s good—he’s alive!”

Huey instantly relaxed, exhaling: “Butler, did you hear? He’s not dead—we don’t need to do anything about him.”

“Are you an idiot, Huey?”

Butler couldn’t hold back anymore—he cursed: “Use your damn brain! He saw our faces—if he wakes up, what do you think he’ll do to us?”

“I doubt it’ll be something an apology can fix,” Alvin chimed in.

At this, Huey shuddered.

He might be naive, but he wasn’t stupid—he knew with his own gut what kind of fate awaited them.

“Hey, shut your mouth!” Butler, already irritated, glared at Alvin: “If you’re not going to help, get out of the way and don’t interfere!”

“If you don’t mind, I can provide a car.”

Alvin tossed a set of keys, smiling: “A Ford Escape—the trunk has plenty of space. It should suit your needs.”

Huey took the keys, dazed: “Th... thanks. You’re actually pretty nice.”

Butler: “......”

He now regretted bringing this idiot along—could this really not go wrong?

To prevent the invisible man from breaking free en route, Alvin suggested they borrow some Japanese rope techniques.

The poor invisible man was bound tightly by the two of them and tossed into the Ford’s trunk.

Butler drove; the shaken Huey sat in the back; as for Alvin... he naturally sat in the front passenger seat.

“Where are we going?”

Huey asked nervously.

“I know a guy—he knows what to do.”

Butler gripped the steering wheel, but his peripheral vision kept flicking toward the passenger seat.

“Mr. Butler, please pay a little more attention while driving.”

Alvin noticed his glances and smiled: “I don’t want to die young—reckless driving brings tears to loved ones.”

“I’d like to have a proper talk.”

Butler took a deep breath, forcing his furious expression to calm.

If not for the possibility that this man knew Rebecca’s whereabouts, he’d have punched him already—this mouth was just too damn provoking!

“Of course, Mr. Butler.”

Alvin nodded with a smile: “I’m very eager to talk with you—but not now, and not here.”

Butler had no objection to that—right now, the most urgent thing was dealing with the “hot potato” in the trunk!

Soon, Butler drove to an abandoned industrial zone.

He stopped the car, turned off the engine, and turned to Huey: “Huey, come with me inside.”

Butler dragged the dazed Huey and tossed over his shoulder to Alvin: “Wait here.”

Then the two entered the factory.

Not long after, Butler and Huey emerged, followed by a thin Frenchman.

“Fuck, you didn’t tell me there was someone else!” The Frenchman, seeing Alvin, showed a flicker of wariness: “What’s this guy?”

“Calm down, Frenchy—he’s... temporarily on our side.”

Butler had no idea how to explain to Frenchy, so he evaded: “Come see what I brought you.”

He led Frenchy to the trunk and lifted the lid.

“Fuck, you motherfucking bastards are dead!”

The trunk appeared empty—but the elegant curse made Frenchy’s eyes widen, a sense of dread flooding his chest.

Before the invisible man could continue cursing, Butler jammed the stun baton into him.

Electricity crackled; a human-shaped figure twisted and spasmed inside the trunk.

“Oh fuck!” Frenchy finally realized—he grabbed Butler’s collar and roared: “You guys stuffed the invisible man in the trunk?!”

“Frenchy, isn’t this a nice gift?”

Butler grinned triumphantly: “Too late to regret now—he saw your face, brother.”

“You son of a bitch, Butler!”

Frenchy raged, spewing curses, wanting to shoot this bastard dead.

He’d been completely screwed by Butler—what did he mean, “brothers share hearts, brothers share brains”?

He’d actually thought Butler brought something good—turns out it was a massive problem!

“Mr. Butler, from an observer’s standpoint, I must commend your moral depravity—it rivals that of Saphra,” Alvin, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, now stood beside the car door, watching Frenchy with pity.

“Who the hell are you?” Frenchy, already furious, snapped at him.

“A merchant who happened to pass by,” Alvin smiled.

“What’s Saphra?” Huey whispered.

“Uh, in simple terms, it’s a group of 2K-style scumbags,” Alvin explained.

2K-style scumbags?

Huey and Frenchy silently turned to Butler—the description was painfully accurate.

“I need your help, Frenchy.”

Butler spoke with casual indifference, feigning sincerity: “If you don’t help me, I’ll just stay here. That guy’s got a chip inside him—you don’t want your homeland to find out, do you?”

“This is the last time, Butler.”

Frenchy gave him a cold look, turned, and walked into the factory without looking back: “Bring him in—we need to shield his chip, or we’ll be discovered soon!”

At this point, even if he refused, there was no way out.

Since the invisible man had seen his face, he had no path left but to follow Butler to the bitter end.