Continental Hotel.
Manager's office.
"Are you sure there won't be any issues? If Russell decides to intervene, not only will the Continental Hotel in New York not be able to stop him, but even a high table wouldn't be enough."
Winston, impeccably dressed in a suit, sat behind his office desk, addressing the man in front of him.
"Don't worry, Russell won't get involved in this matter."
The man spoke calmly, in stark contrast to Winston's worried expression.
"How can you be so sure?"
Winston continued to inquire.
"Because he's currently the head of the Justice League and a superhero."
"As long as this matter doesn't endanger public safety, he won't take action. He needs to protect the good reputation he's worked hard to build."
The man, who was also impeccably dressed, explained.
"But that's just your assumption. He just called a moment ago, and it didn't sound like he wouldn't get involved."
"Moreover, Perkins is currently at Justice League headquarters. They have some level of friendship, so there's no guarantee he won't step in for her."
Winston still wasn't entirely convinced by the man's words.
Although this man was sent by the High Table, Winston had never seen him before.
More importantly, despite being affiliated with the High Table, this man appeared to lack much experience with firearms. There were no calluses on his hands, which would typically result from extensive gun handling.
"Rest assured, even if Russell does come, you don't need to worry. The organization will handle this matter."
The man continued.
After hearing the man's response, Winston didn't say anything more.
However, neither of them realized that Russell was currently en route to the hotel with Perkins.
After driving for half an hour, Russell and Perkins finally arrived at the entrance of the Continental Hotel.
They parked the Mercedes G550 they had been driving casually by the roadside and walked side by side toward the hotel.
"Do you have a gun on you? If you do, can you give me one?"
Perkins, who was following behind Russell, asked slowly.
Although Russell had the capability to take on the Continental Hotel single-handedly, he was still Russell, not Perkins. Perkins didn't have a gun, not even a knife, on her.
This made her feel quite unsafe.
Upon hearing Perkins' words, Russell stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. He then retrieved two Colt .45 pistols from his system space, one white and one black.
"You probably won't have the opportunity to use them, but since you brought it up, here you go."
Russell handed one of the Colt .45 pistols to Perkins.
"I hope I won't need to use it."
Perkins nodded and accepted the Colt .45 pistol from Russell.
Although it was highly unlikely that Russell would hand her a faulty weapon, after receiving the gun, Perkins still performed a professional check to ensure there were no issues.
Once she confirmed that both pistols were unused and in perfect condition, she concealed the gun on her person.
"Let's go."
After Perkins had hidden the gun, Russell said directly.
"Yes."
Perkins quickly replied.
As they reached the hotel's entrance, the attendants there hesitated for a moment. They then put on professional smiles and greeted Russell.
"Mr. Bradley, it's been a while."
"Nice to see you again!"
While Russell didn't know the attendant's name, he wasn't unfamiliar with him. This attendant had been working here when Russell first joined the Continental Hotel three years ago.
Three years had passed, and he was still in the same position.
Although this might not seem unusual, for a hotel employee serving assassins, having an attendant working consistently for three years was quite rare.
Under normal circumstances, hotel employees who were considered expendable to assassins' eyes weren't likely to survive long.
However, assassins who lived on the edge of death for years tended to lose control at times.
Many hotel employees had been killed over trivial matters. While the hotel eventually dealt with those assassins, it was difficult to completely eliminate such incidents.
Russell and Perkins proceeded without paying much attention to the watching attendants, heading straight to the front desk.
Just like the attendant at the entrance, the receptionist currently on duty was still Charon, who wore glasses, a well-fitted suit, and had black skin.
"Mr. Bradley, it's been a while!"
As Russell approached the front desk, Charon greeted him professionally, wearing a welcoming smile.
"Nice to see you. Please tell Winston that I'd like to meet with him."
Russell said straightforwardly.
"Of course, Mr. Bradley!"
Charon didn't refuse and picked up the internal phone on his desk, dialing Winston's office number.
The call was quickly answered.
After a brief conversation with Winston about Russell's visit, Charon nodded and hung up the phone.
"Mr. Winston is waiting for you in his office."
Charon stated calmly.
"Thank you."
Russell said and proceeded with Perkins toward Winston's office.
However, just as they were about to reach the elevator, a burly man, dressed like a Navy SEAL, blocked their path.
"You can go up, but she can't."
The burly man pointed at Perkins and said, his right hand resting on the handgun holstered at his waist, ready to draw it at any moment.