The Wolf of Los Angeles.

Chapter 1 Dinosaur Blood
At dawn, a shrill howl suddenly rang out.

Hawke woke up from his sleep, jumped out of bed immediately, moved gently to the window along the wall, and peeked out.

There was nothing above the withered yellow grass, and the large lake vaguely visible in the distance was shrouded in mist.

The howl was heard again, the distinctive cry of the North American coyote.

This is not the cell where he is imprisoned! Hawke withdrew his gaze in confusion and quickly looked around.

A rough, dilapidated wooden house blocked the cold wind, and the wooden beams supporting the roof were covered with cobwebs.

The temperature was a bit low, so Hawke picked up the thick coat next to him and put it on. He found a line of English printed on it: For exclusive use by the crew of "The Singing Detective".

He looked around and found a brand new newspaper and two texts on the wooden table in front of the fireplace.

Hawke first looked at the newspaper, the Provo Herald of January 2002, 1, published in Provo, Utah.

Someone circled a job advertisement in the newspaper.

"The crew of "The Singing Detective" under Akerman Films is recruiting temporary stunt actors. Men under 30 years old, about six feet tall, strong, good at climbing and using firearms, those with professional experience are preferred..."

Hawke put down the newspaper and picked up a document. It was a contract for a temporary actor in the crew of "The Singing Detective" and was signed by Downing Ward.

Another document is a comprehensive physical examination report and stuntman insurance contract provided by the crew of "The Singing Detective", and the signature is also Downing Ward.

The stuntman insurance contract stipulates that the crew must conduct a physical examination on the relevant actors before purchasing insurance.

Hawke quickly flipped through the physical examination report. All indicators were within the healthy range, but one of them caught his attention.

The person undergoing the physical examination belongs to the Hh blood type system!
A doctor inmate once talked to Hawke about rare blood types. If Rh negative blood is panda blood, then Hh blood type can be called dinosaur blood.

Hawke subconsciously glanced at his hands. His slender palms were covered with calluses. He walked a few steps to the wall, took down the mirror hanging on the wooden wall, and wiped off the thick dust on the mirror with his big hands.

The man in the mirror had a head of brown hair as messy as withered weeds, a slightly puffy face that showed he hadn’t shaved for some time, and a slightly plump body, making him look like a skinny brown bear that had just ended hibernation.

"Is this Downing Ward?" Hawke whispered, with a little more memory of his life in his head.

The original owner of this body was named Downing Ward. He followed his father to poach near Utah Lake at an early age. Later, he engaged in extreme sports, but did not make a name for himself. After old Ward passed away, he returned to Provo and inherited a house with the pain of his first love. He did nothing to recuperate his heartbreak.

Driven by cheap food, Downing Ward gradually lost his figure and his wallet was about to run dry. When he saw a job advertisement in the newspaper, he went to downtown Provo to apply. With his good foundation, he got the job of a temporary stuntman.

The memories left by Downing Ward are very few and vague, all of which are related to his life experience.

The experience of traveling back to 2002 was still within Hawke's acceptable range.

Because in the 2020s that he had experienced, all kinds of time travel were rampant on the Internet.

Of course, more importantly, Hawke regained his freedom.

In his previous life, Hawke worked in online public opinion control. He came to North America and practiced special skills such as gun fighting all year round. He created chaos in the United States several times, and finally got a 200-year food and accommodation package in California.

At that time, his residence was located in San Jose Prison, where he was held in solitary confinement for 23 hours a day.

Losing your freedom and slowly waiting to die are not easy to endure.

His stomach growled, so Hawke opened the paint-chipped refrigerator and found a bag of toast and half a bottle of jam. He glanced at the date, took a knife, spread the jam on the bread, and ate while carefully inspecting the cabin.

In modern society, money is essential for survival.

Hawke found the wallet, which contained $17 in cash.

Thanks to the skills he learned in his previous life, Hawke found a secret compartment on the wall next to the bed after finishing his bread. He used a table knife to pry open the wood on top, took out an iron box and opened it. There were six driver's licenses wrapped in a plastic bag. There were men and women, young and old, from all over the United States. Under the driver's license, there was also a small M60 short-barreled revolver.

Hawke picked up the pistol and skillfully opened the magazine. There were only four bullets left in it.

He carefully checked the bullets and pistol, which were in good condition, and then reloaded them and put them in his pocket.

This place is located in the suburbs of the mountains, with the vast Utah Lake in front of the door, which gave Hawke some bad associations.

It is likely that Old Ward has done business at no cost.

Hawke looked through the driver's licenses, his eyes fixed, and he took one out and put it away.

The owner of this driver's license is Hawk Osment, born in 1980, with short black hair. He is from the sparsely populated state of Wyoming, and his face is somewhat similar to his current body.

The other five driver's licenses were either of different genders or too old or too young to be of much use to him.

Hawke checked the cabin carefully again and found nothing new. He went to the fireplace and lit a fire. The five driver's licenses were completely burned to ashes.

He mixed it with wood ashes, put it in a trash can, went out and walked across the dead grass to the high ground near Utah Lake, and scattered the ashes into the lake.

The weather is a bit cold and gloomy, and it might snow.

Hawke returned to the cabin and sat at the wooden table, thinking about what to do next.

Hawke's experience in his previous life made him want to do something, but experience told him that a person's influence is limited.

How can one have a huge influence?

It's not hard for Hawke to think of power and wealth.

In America, the two are interchangeable.

He looked at the shabby wooden house and the wallet with only $17 in it, and his brows immediately furrowed.

If you want to develop, you must move out of Provo.

Hawke first thought of Los Angeles where he had lived in his previous life, and his eyes fell on the stuntman contract.

The class structure in America is rigid, and it is extremely difficult for the poor to develop.

Hawke suddenly became extremely realistic. Power and wealth were too far away. The most urgent thing now was to make some money first.

A sum of money that would allow him to go to Los Angeles and stop living on the streets.

Hawke lowered his head and glanced at the words "The Singing Detective" on his coat. He couldn't give up his job as a stuntman for the time being.

As he was thinking, the sound of a car engine came from outside the window. He took out the revolver from his pocket, quickly went to the window, and looked out quietly.

An old two-seater Dodge pickup truck drove up from the other side of the road and stopped in front of the stone road leading to the cabin.

The driver's door opened and a blond, white man got out. He was about the same age as Hawke and was also wearing a thick jacket with the words "Singing Detective" printed on it.

He came to the door, banged on it, and shouted, "Lazy guy, hurry up and get up. It's the last day of filming for the crew. Don't be late."

Hawke put the pistol in his pocket, kept the muzzle forward, and walked towards the door along the wall, asking vaguely as he walked: "Who is it? Knocking at the door so early?"

The man said again: "I, David! Are you still hungover? Even I can't tell?" His voice was filled with impatience: "We can get paid after the filming today, a week's salary! Stop talking nonsense, hurry up!"

(End of this chapter)