I’m just a Superman - Chapter 11

[Chapter 11: I am your father]

With the departure of the gunsmith, the chaotic gunfight ended in the dark.

At this time, except for passers-by like Wesley who were terrified hiding behind the self-confident bunkers, the whole street was devoid of a living creature, and even those active mice in the past were hiding in the roar of gunfire. stand up.

Hu-hu-

Hiding behind a dumpster, Wesley was on the verge of a breakdown, and in the tense atmosphere he had an ‘anxiety attack’.

A large amount of adrenaline is secreted, the heartbeat is accelerated, the blood flow rate is increased, and the powerful heartbeat is thumping in the ear like a drum, and the reaction force and explosive ability have also been greatly enhanced in this state.

But the side effects that came with it also made Wesley flush. At the same time, because the brain needed to consume more oxygen in overdrive, Wesley’s breathing began to become rapid and heavy, trying to reduce the burden on his body.

However, without the help of drugs, Wesley, who has not received professional training, could not master this unique state of excitement. Gradually, his horizons began to shrink, and black began to invade from the periphery to the middle.

After dozens of seconds, Wesley, who could no longer support it, passed out like a severe fever patient.

Sitting against the dustbin and the damp wall behind him, Wesley was breathless, but the fiery temperature began to drop, eventually returning to normal.

Behind the other bunkers, with the end of the gun battle, the pedestrians who didn’t have time to escape the first time reappeared at this time. They stooped and fled here in a hurry.

As the streets quieted down, Wesley seemed to be forgotten, and it wasn’t until minutes later that the sirens of New York police cars sounded on the street.

“There’s another shootout, but this time it doesn’t seem like the unlucky person died, which is not bad.”

After taking a bite of the hamburger, Jack took a sip of the iced Coke and patted his partner next to him: “Okay Tom, go check the scene, if nothing special is found, we can call the police.”

Tom put down the milk tea in his hand, reached out and pulled out the pistol from the holster, opened the car door and checked the surroundings, walked into the alley, and Weslin appeared in his sight.

Bending over cautiously, Tom stood up and shouted to Jack, “Hey, I found a comatose victim here.”

“Victim? Fuck!” Hearing that there was a victim, Jack was smart, and immediately felt that the hamburger and Coke in his hand had no taste, and hurried to Tom’s side: “Where? Where are the victims?”

“Here.” Tom pointed to the unconscious Wesley: “I’m in a coma, but I don’t seem to have been shot, so lucky.”

Because it was contaminated with rainwater and sewage from the garbage can, Wesley looked filthy, and before taking a few steps closer, Jack frowned: “Well, this is just a homeless man who slept in the past, and this shooting has nothing to do with it. any relationship.”

Regarding the partner’s statement, Tom just shrugged and had no other objections: “Well, a homeless man who slept to death and narrowly escaped a shootout.”

“It looks like we don’t have to call an ambulance for him, and he will thank us for it when he wakes up.”

“Hahaha, who said it wasn’t.”

The two laughed, kicked Willis’s dropped purse beside him, then turned and left the alley.

“Jack, I’m going to find the neighbors around to ask about the situation. Do you want to go with me?”

Jack glanced at the burger and Coke that he had thrown on his seat: “No, I have other things to do. And I bet you, you will never get the slightest clue from those people.”

“What else are they going to say other than telling you it was the loafers and black people who shot you.”

“Not necessarily.” Tom smiled. “Maybe they’ll tell me it was a white homeless man and a black cowboy in a leather jacket.

”

“There are more elements.”

A few minutes later, throwing the empty paper bags and cups into the trash can, Jack looked up at Tom who had finished the visit: “How are you, have you got any clues?”

“Fuck!” Tom laughed and scolded. “They told me it was a white homeless man and a black man in a leather jacket who shot.”

“I bet they must be taking drugs and coughing, so they have this hallucination.” Jack replied with a smile, started the car, and turned the steering wheel: “Okay brother, our business is over, we’re off work!”

Half a minute later, the tires of the car ran over the water on the ground and disappeared on the corner of the street.

As for catching criminals…

Come on, this is North Brooklyn, a black and Hispanic area, and the police don’t have much of a police presence in this low-tax area.

There were no eyewitnesses, no victims, and even those who had experienced it had already run away at this time. The cameras on the street were either damaged or destroyed due to disrepair, or there were no traces of assassins.

Could it be that they could be expected to solve the case by relying on those dozens of bullets whose origins could not be found?

If they have this ability, how can they still stay in North Brooklyn and go to Long Island or Manhattan with high salary to work in rich areas, at least it is much safer there.

Since there are no victims in this shooting, and the witnesses and experiencers are unwilling to come forward, why should they spend a lot of police force and material resources to track down this crime?

Maybe the media will be interested in the shooting, in which no one was injured, but that’s for the future.

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There are too many headless cases in the United States, and it doesn’t matter if there is one more shooting case with no casualties.

Jack and Tom soon drove the police car and disappeared into the street, and Clos, who had been hiding in the dark and staring at Wesley, finally breathed a sigh of relief, opened the door and walked out. A few minutes later, he carried Wesley, who was in a coma. came back.

Half an hour later, Wesley woke up with a long moan, looking at the unfamiliar ceiling with a stunned expression, then suddenly sat up, and saw Cross sitting on the chair opposite: “Who are you?! ”

Cross looked at Wesley, and after a few seconds of silence, he slowly said, “I’m your father.”

what?

?

?

For a moment, Wesley thought he had run into a mental patient who had escaped from the hospital, but then he calmed down: “My dad left me seven days after I was born, so…I don’t have a dad!”

“Yes, I left seven days after you were born, but that was to protect you.” Cross looked at Wesley with complicated eyes: “But things are different now, so I reappeared in front of you. ”

“…I do not believe!”

“I can tell you slowly.” Cross first calmed Wesley down, and then began to tell Wesley his experiences over the years little by little.

Cross really wanted Wesley to live a normal life, but normal people wouldn’t face Brotherhood attacks.

Understanding Sloan’s thoughts, Cross knew that if he continued to act as the invisible guardian, not only he might die in the end, but Wesley would also die.

In order to ensure Wesley’s life, the previous one can almost be invalidated. He wants to train Wesley into an assassin, an assassin who has the ability to protect himself when facing the Brotherhood.