Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Chapter 194 An interrogation

'Oh yes. That, too. The tour!' Tristan thought, watching Derek walk back inside the bar.

This was just another reason for Tristan to burn with black-bright, vitriolic hatred toward the unknown terrorist mastermind.

***

Later that night, after the party was over, Tristan told Lenny to drive him to his house. There, he changed identities and walked on foot to his King Lion mansion.

By this point, the tiny amount of alcohol Tristan drank at that party left his system, but he still told one of his guards to drive.

The destination was the place where Cutout put the bomber.

Calling it a safehouse would've been giving it too much service. It was a house, shared by three of the King Lion Gang goons, that had nowhere better to live. The surrounding place was a complete ghetto, and the building itself was shit.

But the basement of it was a good place to keep people in, even for long periods of time—the goons above could be trusted to keep watch over the prisoners.

Tristan had several sports like that at his disposal.

When he descended into the basement, the bomber was there, already tied to a chair with his mouth gagged. There was a fresh bruise on his cheek.

Cutout was there, too, looming over the man menacingly.

"Boss," he greeted. "I'm keeping an eye on this guy."

Tristan eyed his bruise.

"Did he misbehave?"

"Yeah. He was only nice and quiet for fifteen minutes, then tried to jump the car." Cutout shrugged with one shoulder. "I assumed you needed him whole, though."

"That's right. Good work." Tristan walked in front of the man. "Heard about the terrorist attacks already, by the way?"

The words were intended for the prisoner, who was looking at Tristan with large, scared eyes. The terrifying, dark gaze of a demon who was at the same time incredibly cold-blooded and incredibly angry would've made much stronger people freeze in fear.

"No, boss." Cutout said.

A couple seconds later, when the prisoner realized also what Tristan said, he jolted in shock.

Tristan sneered.

"And there were. Several of them. It was something really insane. Imagine—half a dozen religious fanatics came up with an idea that pop-culture is blasphemy and tried to blow up several celebs. Actually blew up one."

Tristan was still talking to the prisoner, who still stared at him in dumb shock.

He kept probing and poking, searching for the influence that gave William the hints and the tools. Tristan almost knew what it was—he saw it amid the threads of relationships coming from William.

There were a lot, most of it various shades of hatred. But there also was one thin and white, which Tristan didn't know what meant.

Tristan found his hint not where he expected, but he found it, and he asked the right question.

"Oh. Yeah, I had strange dreams often in the last month. Hm... I think the first one happened not long before I had the idea for my Holy Act. It was like angels themselves whispered to me in my dreams... Whenever I became stumped about what to do, I would only need to sleep and when I woke up, I would have an idea. But... I don't remember the dreams themselves. No! I really don't, p-please! They were just... light. And holy."

That was the best Tristan got. Dreams.

An impossible connection, but it was the only one Tristan had found so far. Find more adventures on empire

Letting out a tired breath, Tristan hid his knife for good and stepped away from the prisoner.

'Can an idea be actually planted through a dream? Could that white thread be related to dreams?' Tristan bit his lip. Perhaps a year ago he'd say it was impossible, but he had a system and he remembered the day he got it.

'Nothing said that I was the only one in the world with a system. If anything, I should've immediately assumed otherwise. Perhaps... Perhaps there's someone out there who has a system, too, and it lets him plant suggestions into people's dreams?'

It was so outlandish, but both sides of Tristan's enhanced mind told him it was the most probable option. Something supernatural was definitely working there.

With that thought, Tristan turned to Cutout, who had been standing near the wall all this time—watching just in case Tristan needed help.

"Keep William imprisoned until I say otherwise. I don't care where, just make sure he stays able to talk until I need to talk with him again. Chain him to a pipe here—I don't care." Tristan shrugged.

"But-but I told you everything! I answered—"

A glare from Tristan shut the prisoner up.

"So, as I was saying, Cutout..."

The man nodded.

"Got it, boss."

"There was a key to his things, right? I want you to search the man's house for more information—after the prisoner is dealt with. Anything related to that bomb we spoke about."

Cutout nodded again.

Tristan clicked his tongue.

"And keep this all to yourself for now. I don't care if rumors appear, but if someone wants definite information—send them to me."

He had to talk with his underbosses soon.