Now, only Hawk, Goo Ja-yoon, and Shredder, isolated like a castaway on the main seat, remained in the room.
Hawk walked over to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the bustling scene of Manhattan, as if admiring his new territory. He stood with his back to Shredder, his voice light and casual, yet carrying an undeniable command:
"Mr. Shredder, the dust has settled. I have no interest in whatever threats or warnings you might be about to make. I'm only concerned with one thing: where did you hide the alien guest?"
Shredder snapped his head up, a flicker of shock in his eyes.
"Guest?" He gave a hoarse, scornful laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hawk Lane."
"Pfft!"
Hawk chuckled, not even turning around. Beside him, Goo Ja-yoon simply gave a slight wave of her hand, as if swatting away a fly.
Shredder's words were instantly cut short.
An invisible, irresistible, terrifying force abruptly descended. He was instantly seized by an unseen giant hand, lifted off his feet, and violently slammed against the solid, ballistic glass wall!
"BANG!"
With a dull, massive impact, Shredder's bulky frame collided with the cold glass. The sheer force made the entire pane vibrate. He felt all his bones scream in protest, his internal organs shifting. A sweet taste rose in his throat, and blood spilled from his lips.
He tried to struggle, but found himself pinned like an insect in a specimen box; the invisible power pressed his limbs tightly against the wall, preventing him from moving even a single finger.
Goo Ja-yoon stood still, a hint of playful amusement in her eyes, her hand held up in a loose, empty grip. Powerful telekinetic force shackled Shredder firmly.
Hawk finally turned around and slowly sauntered over to Shredder, who was "nailed" to the wall. He observed Shredder's face, contorted by pain and fury, as if admiring an interesting exhibit.
"Still playing ignorant?" Hawk gave a light laugh, his tone abruptly turning cold, like an Arctic wind. "I see you haven't quite grasped the situation. Ja-yoon, help Mr. Shredder clear his head."
Goo Ja-yoon's fingers moved infinitesimally.
"URRGGHH—!!!!"
A hideous, inhuman shriek exploded from Shredder's throat!
Agony! Indescribable agony!
It felt as though countless white-hot steel needles were simultaneously piercing his nerve endings, or as if invisible sledgehammers were repeatedly beating and grinding his bones! This was not a physical strike, but telekinetic torture applied directly to his nervous system and sensory organs! Deep to the marrow, right to the soul!
Shredder's body convulsed wildly. His eyeballs bulged, bloodshot, and the veins on his forehead stood out like earthworms. Sweat, blood, and saliva flowed uncontrollably.
The conference room was soundproofed well, but the executives outside, who were busy with the tense handover, could still faintly hear the bone-chilling screams and muffled thuds filtered through the walls.
Emilia's hand, which was signing documents, suddenly jerked, the pen drawing a long smear of ink across the paper. Everyone felt a chill shoot from the soles of their feet to their heads. The air pressure in the office was suffocatingly low; everyone kept their heads down, pretending to focus intently on the files, afraid to make any unnecessary sound.
That intermittent, terrifying noise, like a death knell from hell, continued for a full half hour.
Finally, when Goo Ja-yoon's fingers relaxed, Shredder slid from the wall like wet clay, collapsing onto the carpet. His body was still spasming uncontrollably, his eyes vacant, showing only physiological terror and complete breakdown. He gasped violently like a broken bellows, drool streaming down his chin.
"S-S-S-Staten Island..." Shredder's voice was weak and hoarse, laced with endless fear. "The abandoned... South Ferry... warehouse... under-ground..."
Hawk crouched down, looking at him. "Good. Why didn't you just say so earlier?"
He stood up, brushing off non-existent dust, and spoke to Goo Ja-yoon: "Clean up. Bag him up and deliver him to those turtle friends you saw last time. While you're at it, give them the Foot Clan headquarters address. Tie an orange ribbon on him as a gift."
Goo Ja-yoon nodded. With a thought, Shredder's body gave one sharp jerk and he passed out completely.
Soon, Shredder, unconscious as a dead pig, was dragged out like a sack of garbage by Lane Capital personnel.
Also sent along was a sealed folder, marked "Confidential," which detailed the Foot Clan headquarters address Hawk already knew, along with some brief operational intelligence. The outside of the folder was maliciously tied with a glaring orange gift ribbon.
Hawk returned to the window, watching the traffic flow below. Goo Ja-yoon stood silently behind him.
Hawk scratched his head, recalling the obscure little island of Staten Island, which is located in New York Harbor, south of Manhattan, between New Jersey and Brooklyn. He realized he'd been there once before.
Patting his head, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, finally locating a name. The name Staten Island pulled a distant, passionate memory to the surface like a fine thread.
"Christina Aguilera..." He murmured the name. Instantly, his mind flashed with images of neon-lit nightclubs, deafening music, a distinctively sexy face, and a hot night of undeniable, primal attraction that required no further description. It was a night catalyzed by hormones and alcohol, sparks flying, a perfect agreement.
He even remembered the next day, when she leaned against him lazily, a hint of playful triumph and an undeniable invitation in her voice, saying her hometown was Staten Island—"It's quiet there, no one bothers us..."—so they drove there and burned through another surge of passion in the unfamiliar surroundings.
And after? She'd asked him to help promote a few new songs. Hawk had indeed used some resources and family influence, and the chart performance was naturally excellent—a professional highlight she could still be proud of.
A classic, brief, mutually beneficial fling.
"Ha," Hawk chuckled, his fingertip tapping the name. "Since I have to visit that desolate island, it might be nice to arrange a local host. Reminisce about the countryside."
The call connected quickly.
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