With the departure of the gunman, the chaotic gunfight ended in the darkness.

At this time, except for passers-by like Wesley who were hiding behind the self-sturdy bunker in horror, there was no active creature on the entire street, and even the active mice in the past were hiding in the roaring gunshots.

Hu-hu-hu-

Hiding behind the trash can, Wesley was on the verge of collapse, and in this tense atmosphere, his "anxiety" attacked.

Adrenaline is secreted in large quantities, the heartbeat is faster, the blood flow increases, and the powerful heartbeat sounds pounding in the ears like a drum, and the reaction and explosion ability are also greatly enhanced in this state.

But the side effects also made Wesley's face flush. At the same time, because the brain needs to consume more oxygen after speeding, Wesley's breathing began to become rapid and heavy, trying to relieve the burden on his body.

However, without the help of medicine, Wesley, who had not yet received professional training, could not master this unique state of excitement. Gradually, his horizon began to narrow, and black began to invade from the periphery to the middle.

After a few dozen seconds, Wesley, who could no longer support her, fell into a coma like a severe fever patient.

Sitting against the trash can and the wet wall behind him, Wesley was so angry that he was so angry that he was breathing, but the hot temperature on his body began to gradually drop and eventually returned to normal levels.

Behind other bunkers, with the end of the gunfight, pedestrians who had not had time to escape immediately reappeared. They hunched over and fled here in a hurry.

As the streets gradually calmed down, Wesley seemed to have been forgotten. It was not until a few minutes later that the sirens of the New York police car sounded on the street.

"A gunfight has happened again, but this time there seems to be no unlucky death, which is pretty good."

After taking a bite of the burger, Jack took a sip of iced Coke happily, reached out to pat his partner: "Okay, Tom, go check the scene. If there is no special discovery, we can call the police."

Tom put down the milk tea in his hand, reached out to pull out his pistol from the holster, pushed open the car door and checked around, walked into the alleyway, and Wesling appeared in his sight.

After carefully bent down and checking, Tom stood up and shouted to Jack: "Hey, I found a coma victim here."

"Victim? Fuck!" When Jack heard about the victim, he felt that the burger and coke in his hand had no smell and hurried to Tom: "Where? Are there victims?"

"Here." Tom pointed to Wesley in a coma: "I'm already unconscious, but I don't seem to have been shot. What a lucky person."

Wesley looked dirty because of the rain and garbage bin sewage. Before he could get closer, Jack frowned: "Okay, this is just a homeless man who has died of sleep and has nothing to do with this shooting."

Tom just shrugged his shoulders and had no other objections: "Well, a homeless man who slept to death and escaped a gunfight by chance."

"In this way, we don't seem to have to call him an ambulance. I guess he will thank us for this when he wakes up."

"Hahaha, who said no?"

The two of them smiled, kicked Welis's bag that fell to the ground to him, and then turned around and left the alley.

"Jack, I'm going to go to the neighbors around me to ask about the situation. Are you going with me?"

Jack glanced at the burger and Coke that he had been thrown in his seat: "No, I have other things to do. And I'd bet you that you can't get any useful clues from those people."

"They will tell you what other words can you say besides telling you the idle vagabonds and blacks who are shooting."

"Not necessarily." Tom smiled: "Maybe they'll tell me that the one who shot was a white tramp and a black cowboy in a leather jacket."

“There are more elements.”

A few minutes later, throwing the empty paper bag and cup into the trash can, Jack looked up at Tom who had visited him and said, "How about it, have you got any clues?"

"Fuck!" Tom laughed and scolded: "They told me that the shooting was a white tramp and a black man in a leather jacket."

"I bet they must have had this hallucination because they were taking drugs and coughing," 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 car tires ran over the accumulated water on the ground and disappeared around the corner of the street.

As for arresting the prisoner...

Please, this is a concentration area of ​​North Brooklyn, a black and Hispanic people. The police do not allocate too much police force in such areas where the tax amount is low.

There were no witnesses, no victims, and even the experienced people had run away at this time. The cameras on the street were either damaged due to disrepair or no traces of assassins were taken.

Could it be that they can rely on those dozens of bullets that cannot find their characteristics to solve the case?

If they had this ability, how could they still stay in North Brooklyn, and wouldn't they go to a wealthy area like Long Island or Manhattan with high salaries? At least it's much safer there.

Since there are no victims in this shooting and those witnesses and experienced people are unwilling to stand up, why should they spend a lot of police and material resources to track the crime?

Perhaps the media will be interested in this shooting in which no one was injured, but that will happen in the future.

There are many headless cases in the United States, and I don’t care about any more shootings with no casualties.

Jack and Tom soon drove the police car to disappear in the street, and Close, who had been hiding in the dark, staring at Wesley, finally breathed a sigh of relief, opened the door and walked out, and took the unconscious Wesley back a few minutes later.

Half an hour later, with a long moan, Wesley woke up slowly, looking at the strange ceiling, his face stopped first, then suddenly sat up, and saw Klos sitting on the chair opposite him: "Who are you?!"

Close looked at Wesley, and after a few seconds of silence, he slowly spoke: "I am your father."

What???

For a moment, Wesley thought he had encountered a mentally ill person who 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 now the situation is different, so I reappeared in front of you."

"...I don't believe it!"

"I can tell you slowly." Close first calmed down Wesley, and then began to tell Wesley about his experiences over the years little by little.

Close did want Wesley to live the life of an ordinary person, but ordinary people would not face the attacks of the Brotherhood.

Understanding Sloan's thoughts, Close knew that if he continued to act as the invisible guardian, not only would he die, but Wesley would not be able to escape death.

In order to ensure Wesley's life, the previous ones could almost be invalid. He wanted to train Wesley to be an assassin, an assassin who has the ability to protect himself when facing the brotherhood.
Chapter completed!