The man stood still, not even turning around, and said, "Your name is Griffin Soare, and you work for Atlas Giordano in the Northern District. You're ruthless and have killed many innocent people. Am I right?"

Griffin did not deny it. He scoffed and replied, "Since I started practicing martial arts, I've killed and maimed so many people, I've lost count. Good, bad, young, old—it's all the same. And you—you sound like you're here to avenge those dead souls. It's a noble thought, but let's see if you can back it up."

Finally, the figure by the window turned around. It was Andrew, his face half-hidden in the dim light of the city outside. He nodded and replied, "Since you've admitted it, I'll make your death a quick one."

Griffin quickly drew a gun from his waist, aiming it at Andrew with a sneer. "You sure talk big for a guy your size. Do you think you'll get away with it? One shot, and you'll be history."

With that, he pulled the trigger.

At the same time, Andrew's right hand