Ace Agent: Blacklisted

The rain in Manhattan was particularly cold.

Griffin Hubbard stood solemnly in front of a coffin, holding a black umbrella.

"...May you rest in peace, may your soul reach heaven, God bless you..."

The priest recited the eulogy. Beside Griffin stood a girl not yet ten years old. She had cried herself voiceless, clutching tightly at Griffin's coat, tears streaming down her cheeks.

This girl was Avra Hansen, daughter of his good friend and comrade of eight years, Owen Hansen.

And the person lying in that coffin was Owen.

Griffin and Owen both served in the DEA, part of the most elite Rapid Response Team, or RRT. Griffin was the RRT's top operator, known to outsiders as "Mr. Ace."

Two days ago, during a covert mission, Griffin and Owen's operation was compromised. Owen was shot through the heart and died on the spot.

"Mr. Hubbard..."

Avra's voice was hoarse, "When will we find the person who killed Dad?"

"Listen to me, Avra, I will find him, I promise!" Griffin remembered the killer's face. Though he was mixed in with FBI agents, Griffin knew he wasn't actually from the federal system, because the gun he used wasn't the FBI's standard-issue Glock 17M or 19M, but a revolver.

The bullet was .44 Magnum, most likely from an Anaconda, a high-powered hunting revolver. This kind of gun could be bought at regular gun shops or on the black market.

It could end up in anyone's hands—except the FBI's.

The autopsy report Griffin received stated that Owen died from the standard-issue Glock 19M held by Officer 133, shot once through the heart. But this was completely absurd! A murder disguised as an accidental shooting!

A Glock simply didn't have that kind of power! And it couldn't have fired a Magnum round! Griffin had clearly seen Owen's chest torn open with a massive hole!

Yet the police had already closed the case quickly, giving Owen's family no chance to appeal.

After the priest finished the eulogy, several men in black suits and sunglasses approached.

Griffin recognized them—they were also DEA members.

But this time, Griffin didn't give them a friendly look, because he knew the leak of his and Owen's whereabouts was connected to the DEA, though he didn't have enough evidence to prove this suspicion.

"What do you want?"

Griffin blocked their way, lowering his voice.

"Don't be so tense, Mr. Ace," an extremely annoying guy, Nathan Anderson, replied.

That smug smile on his face made Griffin furious. He knew the man was here to humiliate Owen—to humiliate him!

"I'm just here to pay my respects to poor Owen. This is his daughter, right? What a cute little girl."

Nathan reached out to touch Avra's head.

Avra hid behind Griffin in fear.

"What are you doing? Nathan, this is Owen's funeral!" Griffin stared at Nathan with fierce eyes.

"I know, you don't need to remind me, Mr. Ace. Wait, you're not Mr. Ace anymore."

Nathan pulled out a document and handed it to Griffin, "Griffin, you've been fired by the DEA. From now on, you're no longer part of the Rapid Response Team!"

"What?"

Griffin couldn't believe what he was hearing!

"Face it, Griffin. You screwed everything up and let that bastard get away. You're lucky the DEA isn't prosecuting you!" "Listen, you need to disappear from Manhattan, now! You wouldn't want the little girl to get hurt because of you, would you?"

Cold rain slid down Griffin's hair. Pain, anger, confusion—all kinds of complicated emotions filled his heart.

His former honors stripped away, his former glory trampled underfoot. Griffin couldn't accept this outcome.

"Just leave! It's a good ending for both you and Owen. Your era is over. The DEA will have a new ace!"

A week later, at an underground boxing ring in Queens.

Two spectators in the audience were talking:

"Did you hear? There's a new guy who's already won 18 fights in a row!"

"I know him, goes by 'Meteor.' He's really strong. Someone's been betting on him the whole way and has made millions!"

"What are his odds today?"

"Oh my god! His opponent is 'Lion,' the boxing champion—a former world champion! Meteor's odds are skyrocketing. As of 30 minutes before the match, they've hit 8 to 1! Looks like nobody believes he can win!"

"Such tempting odds, but I'm betting on Lion. I'm putting down 500 grand on Lion to win!"

This match between the new rising star and the world champion attracted a huge crowd—the highest attendance in a month and the featured fight!

In the locker room, Griffin was doing his final warm-up.

That's right—he was Meteor, the underground boxing newcomer with 18 straight wins.

After being fired from the DEA, Griffin had to take this quick-money job as an underground fighter to help pay off the loans Owen had taken out for his wife's medical treatment.

According to the agreement, he just needed to win 10 more fights to break the venue's record, and he'd get 500 grand in one payment!

But if he lost even once, whether Griffin was injured or beaten to death in the ring, he and the agreement's beneficiary would only get 100 grand.

"Meteor, you can choose to skip this fight," his coach said regretfully, "You have one pass. It won't count as a loss. Today's opponent is too strong—you might not be able to beat him."

"I can't waste my only chance on him. The opponents will only get tougher, and I have to beat them all!"

Griffin clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms showing a violent kind of beauty.

Applause came from behind Griffin.

A woman in a tight red dress with a stunning figure walked toward him.

"Very good! That's the man I picked!"

The woman gracefully extended her hand, "Let me introduce myself—Evelyn Quinn. You can call me Ms. Quinn."

"These past three days, I've won 2 million dollars betting on you. This time, I'm putting down 5 million on you to win!"

Evelyn's captivating eyes met Griffin's, "Mr. Ace, you're going to win, right?"

Griffin was shocked. He'd never revealed his identity. Every mission was highly classified. How did this woman know he was the DEA's ace?

"Mr. Ace, win this, and I'll give you an extra 500 grand, plus a stable job!"

The offer was too generous. Griffin desperately needed money, so he had no reason to refuse.

"As you wish, Ms. Quinn!"