This life was unbearable.
He had woken up this morning feeling reinvigorated. After all, he had called the landlord to fix the heating when he got back from Metropolis yesterday, and then he suddenly received a system notification last night.
[You have changed Waylon Jones's fate to a significant degree, acquiring 2 Skill Points.]
Holy cow, two points!
He immediately jumped up. He felt richer than he had ever been in his life, but then he struggled with how to spend those two points.
Based on his past gaming experience, it was best to deepen one skill line first and only add others once it was fully developed.
But he couldn't resist looking at the remaining two skill cards. After agonizing for a long time, he finally let out a painful shout: "I don't care anymore!"
He gritted his teeth and clicked on the two cards featuring a fist and a meteorite.
The fist card held no surprises; it was indeed related to martial arts skills.
[Decathlon: Your understanding and proficiency in most cold weapons and unarmed combat techniques have reached a considerably skilled level.]
[Upgrade Tasks: Straight Punch: 0/5000; Snap Kick: 0/5000; Horse Stance: 0/5000; Skipping Step: 0/5000;
Hook: 0/5000; Uppercut: 0/5000; Cleave: 0/5000; Thrust: 0/5000]
[*Complete all tasks to raise skill level.]
[*The weapon of criticism cannot replace the criticism of weapons!]
However, the meteorite card was not the magic he had imagined; instead, it activated a strange skill.
[Justice from Above: Heavily wound your opponent in various forms.]
[*Cooldown: 720 hours. This skill cannot be upgraded.]
Although the meaning was unclear, it was still a good thing.
After washing up, he prepared for work. For some reason, stepping into the precinct this morning felt heavier than visiting a grave.
Jay leaned languidly against the car window, watching Bob's sedan slowly drive into the parking lot. The door opened, and first his belly, then the rest of him squeezed out of the car.
Seeing this, Jay opened his own door and jumped out, silently following Bob to an old Ford parked in the corner of the lot.
"Well, are you ready?"
"That's not up to me; it depends on what you've prepared." Jay yawned. "I woke up earlier today than yesterday. You'd better have some good news for me."
"I did my best, this is it." Bob smiled and forcefully lifted the Ford's trunk lid.
Inside were three neatly stacked black, hard plastic cases, faintly marked with police asset numbers.
But it can no longer be recognized.
"One AR-15, one Remington 1100, two Level III body armor vests, and some other stuff."
"What did you say? You actually got them?"
Jay reached out and unfastened the first case's latch.
Inside the black foam padding lay a matte grey-black AR-15 semi-automatic rifle, so new he could practically smell the gun oil.
Arranged neatly beside it were four loaded magazines with gleaming brass rounds, a tactical red dot sight, and two olive-green police flashbangs.
"Holy shit, new guns!"
The cold touch of the barrel sent a thrill through him.
The second case contained two dark tactical vests, clearly showing the outlines of thick composite ceramic plates in the front and back pockets.
The third case held a semi-automatic Remington 1100 shotgun with a compact, menacing barrel.
"Damn, how much did you milk them for?" Jay shook his head in amazement. "What about the rest?"
"That's it, it's all here." Bob lit a cigarette and answered candidly.
"Don't give me that. The fact that you got me these means you asked for, and got, at least double their value." Jay scoffed. "Where's the funding!"
"Uh… uh… we can talk about the funding later, but the equipment is honestly only this much." Bob scratched his head awkwardly. "The rest was personnel approvals and stuff like that, which doesn't concern you."
"Listen to yourself, Boss. This stuff is great, but it's far from enough. No, don't tell me this stuff is already worth several thousand dollars."
He anticipated Bob's rebuttal and cut him off with a wave of his hand. "This is life-saving gear, but it's not a reason for me to risk my life. You wouldn't bust your ass farming for someone just because they gave you a new hoe, would you?"
"Bastard, you're playing the bargaining game with me too."
Bob took several hard drags from his cigarette, head bowed, calculating fiercely. After a moment, he flicked the butt to the ground and ground it out with his foot.
"How much do you want?"
Jay didn't speak, just held up a single finger.
"One thousand? Done, we have a deal!" Bob immediately beamed, opening his arms to hug Jay, but Jay pushed him away.
"Stop dreaming! My two junk cars alone are worth more than a thousand bucks! We each want ten thousand."
"Don't even think about it! Are you crazy? That's twenty thousand dollars combined. Why should I give you twenty thousand!" Bob's face instantly fell. "That… that's the money I retrieved!"
"Heh, for a death-trap job like this, the street thugs quote three thousand, the gang enforcers quote five thousand, and a seasoned cop quotes twenty-five to thirty thousand per person."
Jay stared coldly at the Chief. "Go let your money pick up the prisoner then. Or surely there are cheaper options among the rest of the precinct, aren't there?"
"FUCK! FUCK!" Bob spun around a couple of times, then glared viciously at Jay.
"Five thousand!"
Jay said nothing, closed the trunk, and turned to walk away.
"Six thousand! Wait, seven thousand, seven thousand!"
"Shit! Seventy-five hundred! Seventy-five hundred! Seventy-five hundred each, not a penny more!"
Bob chased after him, grabbing Jay's arm, his face scarlet. "I will not give you one dollar more. If you're still not satisfied, I'd rather put on the vest and do myself."
"Seventy-five hundred. And from now on, all my training ammo, fuel, and equipment maintenance costs will go through the reimbursement process. No holds barred. At least not by you." Jay stopped, returning to the Ford.
"Deal! Done!"
Bob felt much better knowing the remaining costs would be handled through reimbursement.
But the thought of losing $7,500 still felt like a painful gouge, and he couldn't help but pound the car in frustration, then hissed, clutching his wrist and wincing.
"Don't be dramatic. Between the funding, the delegated authority, and Falcone's future reward, you're going to net at least a hundred thousand from this operation." Jay stacked the three cases and lifted them forcefully. "What about the armored car?"
"Falcone… let's worry about that after the mission is done. Hmm… The armored car was rejected. It's too expensive; they won't approve it." Bob folded his arms, slowly moving his joints. "I wasn't lying. It really wasn't possible."
"If you ask me, you just didn't cry hard enough when you begged them. Forget it. The police cruiser won't work, so we'll use my van." Jay transferred the cases to his van. "First things first: if it gets damaged, you're responsible for replacing it."
"Fine… uh… we'll see about that… Hmm? Did you buy that old antique from HQ? What have you done to it?"
Bob fiddled with the latch on the side panel, which clanged down to become a countertop. "Shit, you scared me. You guys actually cook in the car!"
"It's all because that bastard Wilson modified it like this. I can't exactly let it go to waste, can I? Just approve me for a legal vendor's permit." Jay skillfully turned on the electric burner. "Want to try one? My treat."
"I knew that kid couldn't be trusted. Good thing I didn't tell him about the mission beforehand, or the whole city would know. You can tell him yourself later." Bob sighed. "It's free, right? Load me up with extra meat and eggs! I want two!"
——————————————
"Holy shit, new guns!"
Wilson pulled open the case, rubbing his hands excitedly. "Look at this lovely baby, and two big boxes of slugs! How did you get these from the old fatty?"
He suddenly eyed Jay's rear suspiciously. "Did you…"
"Go to hell," Jay tossed the freshly signed handover documents to him.
"We have a dangerous mission this afternoon. We're going to HQ to pick up the surviving robber from the last carjacking case. Fish Mooney might try to intercept us. If you're scared, now's your last chance to bail."
"Shit, no way I'm scared. Why would Fish Mooney hijack a prisoner? Is she worried the case will implicate her? No wonder my leave was canceled. I need to go ask Bob for a few hundred dollars of compensation."
Wilson forcefully lifted the body armor. "Help me try this on."
"I already negotiated with Bob. Seventy-five hundred each." Jay took the vest and unfolded it. "Can your little body even carry this?"
"How much??" Wilson jumped in place, letting out a shriek that cracked. "Seven… Mmf-mmf-mmf…"
"Stop yelling, goddammit!" Jay had been prepared and clapped a hand over his mouth.
He had intended to tell him about Fish Mooney's planned betrayal of the Roman, but he was worried it would be all over town by noon.
"Swallow it. Just know it."
"FUCK! Prying seven thousand dollars out of Bob's pocket? That's harder than landing on the moon." Wilson clutched his chest and took a few gasps. "What can't you do? I wouldn't be surprised if you became the President of the United States one day."
"Less talking, more checking gear. We leave at noon to pick up the prisoner at HQ."
"Copy that, copy that, hehe," Wilson's smile was still wide. "Brother, I have a sister, you wanna meet her? She's got a figure…"
"Get lost!"
"Sure thing!"
——————————————
Standing in the main lobby of Police Headquarters, Jay looked at the passing crowds and the honeycomb of cubicles partitioned by dividers and sighed.
"This place is huge."
"Ha! Look at you, so clueless. Have you never been here before?" Wilson laughed. "I've been here plenty of times."
"No, I've never had business at HQ." Jay scratched his head. He remembered Wilson had been on the force for less than two months and had always been patrolling with him. "When did you come here?"
"Before I became a cop," Wilson shrugged. "Got arrested a few times. It comes with being in a gang. Hey, Montoya, do you know which officer is handling the prisoner transfer documents?"
The passing Latina officer glanced over coldly, seemingly not recognizing him. However, out of respect for the uniform, she pointed toward the center of the hall.
"Go find Alvarez."
"Thanks!"
Jay hadn't realized Wilson had an acquaintance here. "You know her?"
"She arrested me. She looks even better a few years later, doesn't she?" Wilson smiled and walked toward the officer Montoya had pointed to. "Hi, Alvarez, we're here for the handover."
"Oh…" The officer at the desk took the documents from Wilson with a blank expression, stared at them for a moment, told them to wait, and then woodenly walked toward the upstairs offices.
This place was about four times the size of the East Precinct, filled with all kinds of people. The din of voices, the hum of the lighting, and the ringing of phones all merged into a massive sound cluster that made his head buzz.
The two cautiously avoided colleagues escorting suspects and retreated to a corner. While bored, Jay suddenly heard a voice nearby.
"Mr. Nigma, you left this on my desk."
!!!
"Quick!" Jay's eyes lit up, and he yanked Wilson.
The two quickly hid behind a column and strained their ears.
"It's a riddle."
It was Nigma's voice.
"A riddle? It's a cupcake with a bullet sticking out of it."
The woman's voice sounded a little impatient. Jay carefully craned his neck and saw a woman around twenty-five or twenty-six.
She was plainly dressed, reasonably good-looking, and resembled… a slightly above-average student from high school?
"It's… it's a riddle. The cupcake is sweet, and the bullet is deadly…"
Nigma insisted, but the woman was becoming less polite.
"That's not a riddle. It's terrifying, weird, and probably inedible."
She shook her head and strode away, leaving Nigma standing there, looking frustrated and embarrassed.
He looked left and right, hoping no colleagues had noticed him, but then he heard a series of strange noises.
"Tsk-tsk, tsk-tsk,"
Following the sound, he saw two men behind the column in the doorway making faces and frantically beckoning him over. His face turned bright red.
"Ed, your flirting skills are terrible." Jay pulled him behind the column, raising an eyebrow. "What you said to her was too deep. Women aren't impressed by that."
"Jay, why are you here?" Nigma was flustered, his tongue tied. "I… I and… and Miss Kringle are just… just colleagues. Besides, it was a very simple riddle."
"Ed, it's only simple to you. It's like a math professor giving calculus problems to an elementary school student. You are the smartest person in this city. You can't compare yourself to the average person's intelligence."
Jay scoffed. "What… the cupcake is sweet… if I had to guess, the answer would just be a Stage III diabetic chugging sugary cola…"
"At least I know you're not ordinary. I can never guess what answer you'll come up with." Nigma shook his head helplessly. "Miss Kringle… she's different."
"She's not different. She's the cautious and ordinary type. She'll easily be won over by people who show off their competence." Jay thought for a moment. "Show her something different."
"Something different? But you just said…"
"Within her range of understanding. For example: Edward Nigma uncovered a clue through forensic analysis and solved a major case, receiving praise and a promotion.
She probably won't understand how you found the clue or analyzed the evidence; she'll just understand that you were praised and promoted, which means what you did must have been awesome."
Jay patted Nigma on the shoulder. "You need to impress her in simple, common social ways, not complex, deep, professional ones."
He turned back to Wilson, who hadn't said a word. "What do you think, am I right?"
"Right my ass," Wilson snorted. "If you ask me, go sleep with a couple of girls with big butts, and you'll realize there are plenty of better girls in the world than her. Hey, my name is Darnell Wilson, East Precinct, his partner."
"Hi," Nigma reached out and shook his hand, then turned back to Jay. "What about you, Jay? How do you woo women?"
"Him? Haha, you believe his nonsense?" Wilson burst out laughing, looking at the embarrassed Jay. "He's probably still a virgin."
Jay gave him a sour look. "Next time, your cut of the money is gone."
Wilson: ???
——————
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