A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 64: Mr. Olive!

Chapter 64: Mr. Olive!

Olive walked out of the building towards his motorbike.

His shirt was tailored perfectly to hug his body, and as usual, he left it tucked into his neatly pressed pants. He folded the arms of his shirt and swung his leg over the bike to sit down.

He wore his helmet and rotated the handlebars as he turned the engine on. The sound of the motorbike reverberated, and with a soft pat on the gray-colored bag strapped to the back of the bike, he drove off onto the road and sped off toward Natasha’s estate.

Constantly, Olive would check his wristwatch, monitoring how long it would take him to get there.

Twenty to thirty minutes passed by...

Olive slowed down the motorbike. He lifted his eyes and glanced at the sprawling property that spanned across acres of meticulously manicured gardens.

The silent atmosphere was enough to let one know that no one had accommodated the building yet. It was empty as a result of the fact that Natasha had yet to move into the estate.

Olive parked his bike a good distance away from the property. He grabbed the gray bag and made his way to the black gate. He pushed the gate and lowered his eyes to see that it was locked.

"Hmm..." Olive was slightly amused. I mean, anyone could still get into the house despite the locked gates. They have...wings.

He took a step back and unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off. He was very aware that if he were to release his wings while wearing his shirt, they would burst through it, and he could not afford to ruin that shirt.

Olive stretched out his dark wings and flew over the wrought-iron gate. He landed on the majestic driveway lined with towering trees and retracted his wings. With his hand tightly gripping the bag, he walked towards the large building.

He dropped the bag to the floor and smiled at himself. "This will be fun."

He unzipped the bag and pulled out a few sets of bombs. Carefully and unhurriedly, he fixed them around the house and glanced at his watch.

"Ten minutes." As it began to count down, Olive left the building. He flew up to the tower, quite higher than the estate building.

He pulled out a bazooka gun from the bag and fixed it on the ground, situating it in the best way possible to his liking.

The bazooka gun gleamed ominously under the moonlight. Olive aimed at the estate with a one-sided smirk. A wicked anticipation filled the air as he calculated his aim, his unyielding gaze fixated upon the building quite far from him.

"Alright, five...four...three..." Olive narrowed his right eye into a thin line as he began to count down.

BOOM!!

With a resounding, thunderous boom, the bazooka hurtled a projectile toward the estate. The night sky instantly became illuminated with a blinding streak of fire and smoke as the projectile soared through the air, leaving behind a trail of ominous sparks.

The estate was hit! The explosion rippled through the tranquil night, sending debris and shattered remnants of the once-sturdy, luxurious estate flying in all directions. Flames engulfed the crumbling remains, and the sudden screams of the nearby individuals could be heard.

With his malevolence satisfied, Olive watched the chaos unfold with twisted delight. He chuckled at the fine screams and hurried footsteps of horrified neighbors. With a wide grin, he flew down from the tower and strolled over to the area where he had parked his bike.

Olive wore his shirt and disposed of the equipment he had used, as he had no need for it anymore. He climbed on his motorbike and started the engine, ready to leave, but before he did, he let out a soft breath, very pleased with the task he had just carried out.

He put on his helmet, rotated the handlebars, and rode off onto the road. During the ride, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The phone rang, and the callee answered.

"Bonjour, Don."

[Olive. Is everything okay?]

"Qui. The job is done," Olive reported.

[Oh, that is good. Great Job. Let the others know, and I will see you tomorrow]

"Alright." Olive proceeded to hang up, but he ceased at the sound of Draven’s voice.

[Olive, are you driving?]

"Yes, Don," Olive replied.

[Why? That is dangerous. You didn’t need to call me while driving. You could get into an accident]

Olive blinked his eyes before grinning. "I am fine, Don. Do not worry."

He hung up and stuffed the phone into his pocket. He raised the speed of the motorbike and rode towards one of the best restaurants he enjoyed having his meal.

Upon arrival, Olive slowed down and parked in a good spot. He got off the bike, took his helmet off, and strolled to the entrance of the restaurant with his hands shoved into the pocket of his pants. Four of the buttons on his shirt were left open, with the collar properly turned in.

In a lazy manner, Olive ran his finger through his curly, dark hair, which was tied in a loose, classically messy bun. He occupied one of the empty tables, crossed his legs, and threw his head back to patiently wait for the waitress.

Across a different table, a bit distant from where he sat, a young gentleman with a cheerful face was smiling at the waitress attending to him.

This young man was none other than Valentine. He was clad in all black, and unlike his usual hairstyle, he left his hair falling to his shoulder with only a few strands tied to the back.

Valentine rubbed his hands in excitement. Food was his way to happiness, considering he had a really big appetite. He proceeded to dig in, but he stopped at the sudden notice of a familiar presence.

With a quick raise of his head, Valentine glanced at the table from across where he sat, and his eyes lit up at the glimpse of Olive, who was lazily rocking his chair back and forth.

"I’m switching tables!" he said to the waitress and stood up from his chair before the waitress could even say a word.

He moved to Olive’s table and sat down opposite him. His smile was broad and hearty, as though he had seen someone he had been longing to run into.

"Mr. Olive!" he called.