Marvel's whitewashing cop, you want me to save the world?

Chapter 36 Mrs. Hudson's Gold Coins

Li En slept for five hours, and her phone screen remained off all night.

No one dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night.

Block must have been a great help, taking on all the cases related to the port and warehouses.

When he pushed open the police station door, Bright, the receptionist, was standing behind the reception desk, wearing a bulletproof vest.

It's not one of those old styles that's been gathering dust in a warehouse for years and has frayed seams at the collar.

The new bulletproof vest is woven from Kevlar fiber and still bears the creases from when it left the factory.

Two spare magazine pouches hung from the nylon buckle of the tactical belt, and the holster buckles were polished to a shine.

Li En glanced around the hall.

There were only a dozen or so people at the moment, all wearing the same new bulletproof vests, with tactical belts in unison and Glocks tucked into their waistbands.

The atmosphere of smoking, playing cards, and waiting to get off work that used to be has been suppressed by something.

Smoke was still billowing, but the hand holding the coffee was also placed on the chest of the bulletproof vest, ready to reach the spare magazine at any moment.

He walked over to Bright.

"What's going on? Are they starting a war?"

"The director distributed new equipment early this morning, and told us all to prepare for battle."

There was a light gray shadow under Bright's eyelids, and his lips were a little dry.

Almost no one in the branch office has had a break since the port incident last night. No one has gone home.

"Brock said you went to help escort the victims. Did they get to headquarters safely?"

"Mm." Li En nodded.

So that's the excuse Brock used.

"This set of equipment is definitely new. Where are the old guys in the warehouse?"

"It's said they were all sold off in bulk."

Bright patted the bulletproof vest on his chest, his palm landing on the Kevlar with a dull thud, revealing a set of white teeth.

"This is what a bulletproof vest should be like. The stuff in the warehouse before could even be penetrated by a Glock."

Lee walked past Bright, across the hall, and to Block's desk.

Brock was looking down at a stack of documents, a bit of ash stuck between his fingers from the cigarette he was holding.

When I looked up, my eyes were bloodshot and my eyelids were swollen.

He grabbed the coffee from the table and gulped it down, his throat bobbing twice before he put the cup back on the table.

"This equipment is impressive. How did you convince the chief?"

"I gave him 50,000 in hush money, plus 30% of the profits from the used goods." Brock's lips curled up slightly.

"Of course, we also found him a good companion, and they had a wonderful night together. The whole thing was like a movie, and the bureau chief won't be in the way anymore."

Brock raised an eyebrow at him, took a new cigarette from the drawer, and put it in his mouth.

Li En was indeed a little shocked.

During their time together, he came to believe that Brock was just a seasoned office worker.

Their main characteristics are shirking responsibility, being irresponsible, being greedy for small gains, and waiting to retire.

I never expected it to go this far.

"What kind of look is that?"

Brock tapped the lighter on the table.

"Hmph, that bureau chief has only been here for three years. He was appointed by the current mayor. If it weren't for my help, he would have been drowned in the Hudson River long ago."

He didn't continue.

The former chief, Gallo, at least earned his position through hard work and treated his subordinates like brothers. This guy, on the other hand, only cares about money all day long.

If he hadn't been unwilling to take on that responsibility back then, no parachuted-in official would have been chosen to become the bureau chief.

"Can we use the new equipment?"

Li En glanced in the direction of the weapons depot.

The iron door to the warehouse was half open, and the rows of gun racks inside had been freshly coated with anti-rust oil. The metallic smell of new guns wafted out from the crack in the door, temporarily suppressing the smell of smoke in the hall.

Of course, this is also because there are only about ten people in the hall right now.

Brock shook his head: "The guns inside are all registered and not suitable for you."

"If you want regular weapons, you can go to Barrett. That guy ripped you off last time, so you can use that to negotiate a lower price."

"Does he have rifles and bolt-action sniper rifles over there?"

"Huh?" Brock took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and put it on the table, looking up at Li En.

"You want that much firepower?"

He stood up, turned around, and looked in the direction of the weapons depot for a few seconds.

Fifteen new carbines and M16A2 assault rifles have just arrived in the warehouse.

Sniper rifles are also available, such as the Remington 700.

But all of these guns have ballistic markings, and the bullets can be traced back to the police station after use.

Especially with sniper rifles, before you can use them, you have to take a picture with a camera for record-keeping.

Brock put his hands in his pockets and paced back and forth beside the desk.

Then he leaned close to Li En's ear and whispered something.

Do you have any money left?

"Some were left over."

"If you have enough money left, you can go and talk to Mrs. Hudson."

Li En turned his head and exchanged a glance with Brock.

Brock's expression didn't look like he was joking.

"Alright, I'll leave this to you for now. I have other things to do."

"Okay, go ahead." Brock sat down again, his hand just resting on the stack of documents, when he suddenly looked up again.

"Was the killer in the West Street murder case very skilled?"

"This is not something an ordinary person can handle."

Li En waved and walked towards the police station entrance.

Brock sat in his chair, his fingers tracing the edges of the document pages for a few seconds.

Then he took out his phone from his pocket, found Cherry's number, and dialed it.

"Hey, stop following the West Street murder case."

"Don't make a fuss! It's probably the same case as five years ago, only this time no strange department has taken it on."

"Yes, 90% probability."

He hung up the phone and placed it face down on the table.

The image that resurfaced in his mind was one he thought he had forgotten.

Five years ago, Hell's Kitchen was a dead-end alley on the east side near Ninth Avenue.

The witness was a homeless man sleeping behind a trash can. He was trembling so much in the interrogation room that he couldn't hold his paper cup. He repeatedly said that he saw a huge monster bite people to death.

Only half of the body was recovered; judging from the wound, it was indeed bitten off by something.

But in the city's alleys, in broad daylight, what could possibly bite an adult in two?

Then a department that no one had ever heard of suddenly appeared.

The two men, dressed in black suits, opened their identification cards, which flashed for only half a second before closing them, and took over the case along with all the physical evidence.

The homeless man also disappeared.

The two victims in this West Street murder case died of asphyxiation, and there were no physical marks on their bodies.

He had never seen such a death in his thirty years at the police station.

Judging from what Li En has been preparing recently, the person he is going to deal with is definitely not simple.

Who is Li En?

He can single-handedly wipe out hundreds of Razor Clan members with Glock, and his collar doesn't even wrinkle after two minutes.

The fact that they want to buy bolt-action sniper rifles and high-explosive grenades is enough to prove the enemy's strength.

Cherry is a veteran police officer who has spent most of her life working on this street and has seen all kinds of scum.

But this time is different.

Brock didn't want his old friend to die like that, which is why he called and told him to give up the investigation.

As for Li En...

Since he has already made targeted purchases of weapons, it proves that he has his own judgment on the weaknesses of the target.

Just leave it to him.

……

Clinton Gardens, third floor.

Li En walked to the end of the corridor and stood in front of a door she had never entered before.

knock knock.

"Mrs. Hudson, I am Lee En."

He stood outside the door for a few minutes.

There were no footsteps or coughs in the corridor.

Then the door slid open, and the hinges on the inside of the door frame made a slight creak.

Mrs. Hudson stood behind the door, her hand still on the doorknob, a smile on her face.

She looked Li En up and down.

"You must be very busy right now. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Li En didn't beat around the bush.

"Brock said he could buy some special weapons from Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh, please come in first."

She opened the door completely and turned to walk into the living room.

The steps were small, and the soles of the feet made no sound as they stepped on the old wooden floor.

Coffee or milk?

"Coffee with milk."

Li En stepped into the room and casually closed the door.

The living room was simply decorated; the fabric sofa covers had faded a bit from washing, and a knitted blanket was draped over the armrests.

The coffee table was made of dark brown old wood, and on its surface sat a copy of The New Yorker magazine, turned to the middle.

An old-fashioned phonograph sits in the corner, its brass horn polished to a shine.

All the furniture had a vintage feel, but everything was clean and had a strong sense of home, unlike the room of an elderly person living alone.

He sat down on the sofa.

Mrs. Hudson was at the kitchen counter, pouring coffee with her back to him.

She poured half a cup of coffee into the glass, then opened the refrigerator, took out milk, and added it to the rim of the glass.

Li En looked at her back; her shoulders were straight, and her spine was a continuous vertical line from her neck to her waist.

The muscles in his waist do not have the loose, sagging curve typical of older people.

Moreover, she was standing there with her feet in the wrong position.

Mrs. Hudson placed her weight on her left foot, with her right foot slightly back by half a shoe's length, her sole on the ground and her knee slightly bent.

It can exert its power at any time.

The spine, from the waist to the shoulder, was in a state of slight compression.

The spring is already compressed.

To her right were an iron pot and several porcelain plates on the stove, and to her left was a gleaming iron sink—things she could easily reach.

Looking back now, I didn't hear her footsteps during those two previous meetings, including just now.

There's only one explanation for achieving this in a house without carpet and with old wooden floors.

She's used to walking silently; it's been like that for decades, and it's become second nature.

Mrs. Hudson turned around and came over with two cups of coffee in her hands.

The bottom of the cup landed on the coffee table with a very soft thud, and the coffee sloshed around without spilling.

She pushed the glass with milk in front of Li En, picked up another glass for herself, sat down on the single sofa opposite, and leaned back into the sofa cushions.

Her hands naturally landed in the gap between her legs and the sofa armrest.

"That Brock guy still owes me a favor."

She smiled and took a sip of her coffee.

"You're talking about special weapons, how special are they?"

"Automatic rifles, bolt-action sniper rifles, and preferably high-explosive grenades."

Li En wanted a sniper rifle so he could kill the hunter from a distance once he found him.

There's no need to get close, no need to make eye contact, no need to know his name.

This is the safest option.

If long-range shooting is not possible, for example, if the hunter's route does not pass through any open areas or there is no high vantage point to set up a gun, then a mid-to-long-range automatic rifle is sufficient.

If someone gets close, given the hunter's abilities, there's a very high chance they'll be controlled the moment they're seen.

In that situation, at the very least, the safety pin on the grenade needs to be pulled before it is completely under control.

With his current physical condition, even if he were hit by a bomb at close range, he might still have a chance of survival.

Mrs. Hudson squinted.

The fingers holding the coffee cup didn't move, but the right hand sank slightly down in the gap between the sofa and the side of the leg.

"Are you planning to start a war, Lee En? This kind of weapon isn't something you can just find anywhere."

These firearms are available at reputable gun shops.

However, every gun obtained through legitimate channels will be registered in the Federal Firearms Administration's system.

Gun serial number, purchase date, and gun owner's signature.

The bullet's ballistic trajectory is recorded in a database when the bullet leaves the factory.

Using that kind of gun to fire is no different from leaving fingerprints at the crime scene.

"It's just about taking him down before he can kill me."

Lee looked into Mrs. Hudson's eyes.

Her pupils were light gray, with a thin, dark gray border around the edge of her iris.

The eyes appeared white in the dim light of the corridor, but seemed very quiet by the living room window.

The two stared at each other for a long time.

The coffee cups on the coffee table are no longer steaming.

Mrs. Hudson stood up and went into the room.

Li En heard the wardrobe door open and close, then she came out and slapped two gold coins on the coffee table.

It emitted a deep, short, muffled sound.

"These two gold coins, one million."

Li En picked up one of them.

It's quite heavy, and the edges have a slightly irregular, handcrafted feel.

The coin features a lion design, with the mane pattern reflecting a dark gold light under illumination, while the other side depicts a woman's profile.

Unlike any country's circulating currency, it's more like a token within an inner circle.

"Can I pay on credit?"

Mrs. Hudson grinned, and her laughter echoed through the living room for several moments before fading away.

"Hahaha. I didn't expect you, who usually seems so serious, to be able to joke around."

She laughed for a while, then stopped.

"Get out if you have no money."

"Okay. I do have some, just a moment."

Li En gently placed the gold coins back on the coffee table, got up, returned to the dark room, and picked up the remaining travel bag.

The zipper made a crisp zipping sound in the quiet living room, and the bag opened.

Banknotes of various denominations were all mixed together, and the smell of ink wafted out of the bag.

"There is exactly one million and one hundred thousand here. The ten thousand is the rent I paid in advance."

"Put the money behind the toilet door and take the gold coins to Beaver Tower in Lower Manhattan."

"Give a receptionist a call and tell them your request."

"The last one is for buying weapons."

Mrs. Hudson watched as Lee picked up his bag and got up, then placed her coffee cup on her lap, her expression slowly darkening.

"Li En, you owe me a favor."

"The two gold coins are worth far more than a million."

Li En threw the bag into the bathroom and paused for a moment next to the sofa when she came out.

"If I survive, I will definitely repay your kindness."

After saying that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Mrs. Hudson looked at the closed door and murmured softly:

"You really look just like you when you were young, Baba Yaga (Night Demon)."

……