I made up myths in America

Chapter 177 The Mask
Stanley Matthews, 32 years old.

He had average grades, average looks, and average height since childhood. Even spiritual mediums said he was not destined for great wealth and status in this life.

In fact it is.

After graduating from university, he joined a local bank in New York, working diligently at the counter like a beast of burden, always flashing a standard eight-tooth smile to every customer he encountered, because his mother had said that boys who smile a lot are lucky.

And so, at the age of thirty-one, his life came to a turning point.

A beautiful female customer who came to the bank was captivated by his handsome and charming smile. Three months later, she quickly married him and registered their marriage. Eight months later, she gave birth to a baby boy whose color was a little off.

Later, Stanley felt something was amiss and secretly took a piece of the baby's hair for DNA testing.

As expected, it wasn't his child!
Feeling deeply deceived, he had a huge fight with his wife and wanted a divorce. That very night, several guys who looked like gangsters stormed into his house and gave him a good beating.

Before leaving, he threatened him that he could get a divorce, but he had to leave with nothing, and the villa left by his parents would have to be given to his wife as compensation.

At this point, Stanley realized he had been tricked into marriage, but he was helpless because these scumbags, who clearly had gang connections, were threatening him with his elderly father, who was still hospitalized.

In utter despair, Stanley, in a daze, went to the Brooklyn Bridge in New York and jumped off.

But he doesn't seem to be dead?!

In the darkness, Stanley opened his eyes, somewhat dazed, and looked around. "Is this hell? Heh heh, hah."

For some reason, even though he had only wanted to die before he came here, Stanley felt like laughing at this moment, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up in a big arc.

At the same time, wearing a strange mask, he felt as if his whole body was filled with some kind of strange power.

His body sat up in the river and slowly rotated, twisting into a pretzel shape.

Then, his body, like a real metal spring, converted the accumulated elastic potential energy into kinetic energy, and with a bang, he rushed out of the river and returned to the Brooklyn Bridge in New York, soaking wet.

"Ahhh!!"

Several kind-hearted people saw that Stanley had actually jumped, so they stopped their car and prepared to call the police.

Seeing this, they were all startled. The green-skinned monster, wearing the clothes of the people who had just fallen into the water, disappeared from their sight in the blink of an eye, its legs seemingly powered by motors. After a moment of stunned silence, they spoke frantically into the already connected emergency phone:
"Officer, the man who jumped into the river to commit suicide has jumped out again, and he's incredibly fast, it's like he's not a normal person at all. He's disappeared now."

"???"

On the other end of the phone, the NYPD operator looked puzzled, wondering if the guy who called had been using too much tobacco.

It wasn't until someone filmed the scene and posted it online that it truly caught the attention of the New York Police Department.

They quickly transferred the case to the Special Investigations Bureau, which was located in the same office building.

It was almost half an hour later when the Special Investigations Bureau's night shift agents confirmed the authenticity of the matter and reported it to their team leader, George Gently, who had just gone home to sleep after watching the Tokyo live broadcast all night.

Meanwhile, Stanley had already dashed off like a gust of wind to an underground bar in the Clinton district on the west bank of Manhattan, New York.

This is also the real-life inspiration for Hell's Kitchen in Marvel movies. A large number of Irish and African Americans gathered here, turning it into an incredibly chaotic slum.

And ever since Wilson Paul, who was consciously maintaining order here, died, the place has become even more chaotic.

Looking around, in the dimly lit bar with loud music playing, all sorts of 'monsters and demons' openly snort leaves or pills.

"Oh, I love it here, and I love my new look even more!!!"

Stanley stood in front of a mirror, looking at his reflection where his skin had turned green, making him look both eerie and unusually confident.

"Hey bro, your makeup looks great."

A dark-haired beauty with smoky eye makeup and super short hot pants came close to him and breathed into his ear with a slightly dreamy smile.

"Really? I think so too."

Stanley casually put his arm around the beautiful woman's waist and, under the dazzling lights of the bar, began to dance intimately with her, showing off dance skills he had never really mastered before with some exaggerated movements.

"Oh oh oh!!"

The song is over.

People spontaneously made way for the two who had become the most dazzling presence on the dance floor, offering applause and screams.

"Thank you, thank you everyone."

This unprecedented experience of being the center of attention made Stanley feel better than ever before.

He released his dance partner and, with his unusually soft and elastic body, like clay, gave everyone a Michael Jackson-style moonwalk.

The move was even more spectacular than Michael's, which immediately drew even louder screams from the crowd.

Having enjoyed himself enough, Stanley was ready to get down to business.

He held the microphone in the center of the dance floor, cleared his throat, and addressed his enthusiastic fans:
"Alright, everyone, please be quiet. Before I can give you an even more wonderful performance, I need to take care of a small personal matter."

"Excuse me, is that son of a bitch, whose mouth stinks worse than dog shit, Christopher?!"

As Stanley uttered those words, the bar, which had been screaming and clapping moments before, fell into an eerie silence.

Even though many of them were drunk or high on drugs, they still knew who Christopher was, the one Stanley was talking about.

That's the head of a gang in the surrounding area, extremely ruthless. After the death of the previous New York mob godfather, Wilson Paul, he's been trying every means to expand his power.

Has this green-skinned kid gone mad? How dare he humiliate the other person like this?!
Crash.

In an instant, those who still retained a shred of reason scattered.

A bald black man wearing a bright red suit jacket, unbuttoned and revealing his muscular upper body, walked over with a group of armed men.

"Boss."

One of the gangsters next to him saw Stanley and whispered a few words in Christopher's ear.

Upon hearing this, the gang leader laughed, glanced at Stanley up and down, and said disdainfully, "Since this kid has come to his death, let's grant him his wish. Drag him out and clean him up."

"Yes."

His men responded immediately, guns in hand, and menacingly marched toward Stanley in the center of the bar's dance floor.

One of the gangsters, who had visited Stanley's house once before, turned around and gave Stanley a sinister grin.

But the next second, he couldn't laugh anymore.

Stanley grinned, revealing eight gleaming teeth, and suddenly stretched out his hands like ropes, binding his body and spinning him around wildly in a 360-degree windmill motion. "Aaaaah!!"

The gangster's face collided with the glass bars and bottles in the bar.

At first, he still had the strength to scream, but in the end, as more and more bottles shattered, his face was covered in glass shards and blood was flowing all over his face. He was clearly barely breathing.

Many of the bar patrons, who weren't completely drunk yet, widened their eyes in shock at this bizarre and outlandish scene.

At that moment, Stanley, having had his fill of playing around, released his grip, and with a whoosh, the gangster in his hand flew out, crashing into the right wall of the bar and collapsing into a limp heap.

"Damn it, the other side is a superhuman! Shoot them!!!"

Christopher, the mob boss who had previously disregarded Stanley, was startled by this and released the woman he was holding, roaring.

Bang, bang, bang!!
In an instant, intense gunfire and screams erupted almost simultaneously. The crowd that had been watching the spectacle immediately cried out in alarm, covered their heads with their hands, and crouched down under the nearest cover.

As for why we don't run away now?
Their extensive experience in dodging bullets taught them that rushing out in such situations would often lead to an even quicker death.

This is not.

Several young people who were clearly high on tobacco were accidentally injured by the ricocheting bullets and lay on the ground screaming in pain.

And those bullets that were ejected were ricocheted off Stanley.

He now stood there like a rubber maniac, hands on his hips, revealing eight snow-white teeth, letting these people shoot at him.

The bullets that hit him bounced back as Stanley straightened up.

Those young people lying on the ground screaming were just unfortunate victims caught in the crossfire.

Most of the bullets hit the gangsters who fired the shots, hitting them in the hands or legs, leaving them lying on the ground screaming in agony.

Christopher, as the leader, narrowly escaped disaster because he pulled a few people in front of him to shield him.

Seeing that his men were clearly no match for Stanley, cold sweat poured down his dark face. Without hesitation, he ran outside, got into the red Ferrari parked outside the bar, started the engine, floored the accelerator, and roared off.

"Fine, since you're so ugly that even your mother dislikes you, I'll let you run for five minutes first."

Stanley strolled leisurely out of the center of the dance floor, sat down at the bar, and snapped his fingers.

The bartender, who was squatting under the bar, stood up shakily and poured him a glass of whiskey.

"You also have five minutes."

Stanley raised his hand and looked at the watch on his right hand, the one his mother had bought for him when he was a child.

"Run."

Upon hearing this, the customers still in the bar quickly moved away from the area.

In the end, only the gangsters who had been shot and were lying on the ground were left groaning in pain and begging for mercy.

“Stanley, let me go. This was all Nicole’s idea. She said the house your parents left you is in a great location, right in the heart of the New York City government’s demolition plan. If you can get your hands on it, you’ll get at least tens of millions in demolition compensation.”

"Yes, we can help you kill him, and we can also help you kill Christopher. It was all their idea."

"Shhh."

Stanley held up a finger to his lips to silence them.

He sat at the bar, legs crossed, leisurely finishing his whiskey to celebrate his new beginning.

He then put down his glass, stood up, stretched, and walked outside.

"call"

The gangsters lying on the ground breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing this, thinking that Stanley was going to let them go.

But then, Stanley, who had walked to the bar entrance, turned around, grinned, revealing eight gleaming teeth, took a deep breath, and then blew it out forcefully.

call! Whoops! !
A gust of cold wind blew out of Stanley's mouth, instantly freezing the entire underground bar.

The expressions of relief on the faces of the gangsters in the bar were frozen in that moment forever.

“Perfect, Stanley, you’re amazing.”

Stanley, quite pleased with his creation of a human ice sculpture, stroked his chin, praised himself, then twitched his nose and took a deep breath.

"Did they run in that direction?!"

He looked in what appeared to be a division of the New York Police Department, twisting his body like clay, spinning layer upon layer.

After spinning through hundreds of floors, he launched himself from the spot, creating a deep crater in the ground. He then launched himself up like a missile, flying in that direction.

Meanwhile, Christopher, who had been caught speeding countless times along the way, slammed on the brakes, brought the red Ferrari to a stop, and rushed into the police station with an extremely panicked expression.

"Christopher??!"

The police officers on duty at this branch office were certainly familiar with the gang leader in the neighborhood under their jurisdiction. Upon seeing this, they stood up in surprise and instinctively reached for their waist.

"Listen, officers, I need help! A monster just appeared in my bar, and it killed all my men!"

Christopher spoke at a very fast pace.

However, his skin color and identity were not very credible, and his words did not immediately attract the attention of the police.

They chose to handcuff the gang leader first and interrogate him slowly.

"Shit, there's no time left, you bunch of idiots! Call your damn Special Incident Investigation Bureau over here!"

Christopher saw that the man was on the verge of a breakdown, struggling frantically even with two officers holding his hands down.

To be honest, this gang leader really did have some training.

Both officers were having trouble restraining him.

Just as the other police officers in the station drew their guns and issued stern warnings to the gang leader, the ceiling above them suddenly burst open with a loud bang.

A flamboyant figure in green descended from the sky, revealing eight gleaming teeth, and waved to them, saying enthusiastically:
"Hey everyone, good evening! Need any help?"

Christopher: o(Д)っ!
Police officers: (((;;)))
(End of this chapter)