North American riot police: Start by arresting P. Diddy!

Chapter 185 Some things just have to be done! (Seeking monthly votes)

The World Trade Center site.

On the ruins of the Twin Towers, which were destroyed by two planes a decade ago, a rarely visited memorial stands quietly.

In the center is a square pool covering 4,000 square meters, surrounded by several marble walls.

The walls are densely engraved with the names of more than three thousand victims—building staff, flight passengers, passersby who were unfortunately caught in the blast, and those who went against the flow of traffic.

On 9/11, thousands of firefighters rushed into the burning building without hesitation. Braving the thick smoke and flames, they launched rescue operations immediately.

Ultimately, more than 300 firefighters perished in those ruins.

Even more cruelly, the toxic substances produced by the explosion—asbestos, lead, fiberglass, concrete dust, and various combustible compounds—caused these heroes to pay a continuous price for more than a decade afterward.

According to statistics, more than 500 firefighters have died from serious illnesses as a result, and this number is still increasing.

now.

In the center of the pool, a hunched middle-aged man is walking step by step toward a memorial wall engraved with names.

His trouser legs were already soaked through, but he was completely unaware.

His rough hands traced the engraved letters, his expression shifting from solemnity to grief, and finally to an unquenchable rage.

"Harpersmith, Robert Henry Thomas."

He whispered the names of each team member.

These young people in their early twenties should have a bright future and a long life ahead of them.

“I can’t take it anymore, kids.”

His withered fingers gripped the stone wall tightly, his face gradually contorting. "You gave everything for this country, but those damned politicians stole the honor and dignity that should have belonged to you, leaving only these cold names."

“You know what? I just attended Davis’s funeral the day before yesterday, that old guy from the 19th Squadron.”

“He developed obstructive pulmonary disease after 9/11, and the doctor said his lungs were turning into stones! He wanted to be hospitalized for treatment, but he couldn’t even afford the medical expenses! The insurance company wouldn’t acknowledge that this was a sequela of 9/11, and his appeal to the city hall went unanswered for three whole years!”

His roar echoed in the empty memorial pool:

"We gave everything! But politicians trampled on our sacrifices! Those capitalists are sucking our blood and flesh!"

“I have to do something. Wait for me, kids.”

"I will use my blood to prove to them that heroes should not be forgotten!"

He pressed his forehead heavily against the stone wall engraved with names, and after uttering the last vow, he suddenly looked up and strode towards the center of the square.

That place, where tourists from all over the world gather, is the final stage in his plan.

Steve gripped the pistol in his pocket, each step he took was firm and resolute.

He never intended to hurt anyone; the bullets in that gun were only meant to be fired at his own temple.

He was going to pull the trigger on this sacred ruin, in front of the whole world!
When the bullet pierced his skull and the blood stained the place where the hero rests, he wanted everyone to see: what kind of betrayal and injustice the 9/11 rescuers had suffered over the years!

Soon, he arrived at the very center of the square.

Surrounded by leisurely strolling citizens and tourists, no one noticed the man with the unusual expression.

Steve took a deep breath, his palms sweating as he gripped the gun, but he prepared to draw it without hesitation.

Just then, a huge, iron-like hand suddenly gripped his arm!
"Is this your plan?"

A deep male voice came from behind me.

Steve turned around in shock and saw a tall, aloof man staring coldly at him.

"Who are you?!" Steve asked, frowning.

Luo Xia didn't answer, but continued in a deep voice, "Your team members all died that day. As their captain, instead of taking care of their families, you acted like a coward and used suicide to shirk responsibility? F*ck you!"

Don't judge me with your superficial opinions!

Steve roared angrily, "What do you know? You fucking know nothing! Let me go! Get out of here!"

He struggled desperately, but found that the other person's hand did not move at all.

When he looked up fiercely, he was surprised to find that the coldness on the man's face had disappeared, and there was even a hint of a smile.

"You're right, I really don't know anything."

Luo Xia looked him straight in the eye. "But I happen to have a lot of time today, and I even have a case of beer in the car. So, why don't we sit down and chat?"

"."

Steve stared intently at the stranger before him, and after a moment of silence, finally nodded wearily.

After one hour.

At the pool in front of the monument, Rorschach and Steve each held a can of beer, with a dozen cigarette butts and seven or eight empty soda cans scattered at their feet.

"More than five hundred people in total!"

Steve's face was flushed as he slammed his fist heavily on the edge of the pool. "More than five hundred children who saved countless lives on 9/11 didn't die in the explosions and fires, but were ultimately worn down to death by disease and insurance companies!"

"That's not all!"

"The compensation payments for those brothers who died on the spot in the World Trade Center are still being withheld by the city hall! It's been almost ten years!"

"How many of them are only children in their families? After an accident takes their lives, their families lose their breadwinner, yet the government doesn't even provide the most basic compensation. How are these families supposed to survive?"

"Do you know what the most ironic thing is?"

Steve suddenly downed his beer in one gulp, squeaking the can. "Just yesterday, our esteemed new mayor announced that he would prioritize the welfare of undocumented immigrants, and is prepared to allocate two hundred million US dollars to provide welfare payments and shopping vouchers to those illegal immigrants!"

"Hahaha"

He laughed so hard he was doubled over, tears and snot streaming down his face: "This is the country we protect with our lives! Look at that, those criminals who smuggle themselves in and do nothing but steal and rob all day get two hundred million in subsidies, while we firefighters who save lives can't even get medical expenses reimbursed!"

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!!"

Steve roared hysterically at the sky, his insane behavior drawing disgusted glances from passersby.

Luo Xia silently watched the man who was collapsing and in despair.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, slowly exhaling a bluish-gray smoke ring, his face devoid of any emotion.

This isn't just a problem in the United States. Which country in the world doesn't treat its heroes this way?
Did the Chernobyl rescue workers receive the compensation they deserved? What about the cleanup workers at the Fukushima nuclear power plant? Even in the UK, don't we see news every day about veterans selling their medals at rock-bottom prices to make ends meet?
Rorschach stared at the nearly deranged man before him, slowly exhaling a smoke ring, and asked softly, "Steve, you also have a wife and children. Why would you choose to commit suicide to get attention, even though it might not even have any effect, just to seek justice for your brothers from back then?"

Steve, panting, gave a wry smile. "My son has graduated from college and can support himself. As for why I'd do it knowing it's pointless..."

His gaze swept over the rows of firefighters' names on the monument, and he seemed to see their vibrant smiling faces again. His eyes gradually hardened: "Some things have to be done by someone! Even if you know it won't succeed!"

Luo Xia gazed at the other's resolute expression, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Which insurance company is it?

UnitedHealth Insurance.

"How much money do the city hall and insurance companies owe you in total?"

Steve paused, looking at Rorschach in confusion.

Although he didn't understand the other person's intention, under the gaze of those deep eyes, he still answered truthfully: "Over the years, I have carefully calculated that the total compensation for all the firefighters who died, plus the medical subsidies for the survivors, is about three hundred million US dollars."

"Okay, I've written it down."

Luo Xia stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled, "Go home and spend time with your wife and children. They are the ones who need you more. Leave this to me."

"You, Rorschach, are you drunk?" Steve stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

"Haha, quite the opposite, I've never been this clear-headed, man!"

Rorschach held up one finger. "Within a week, I'll make the people from the city hall and the insurance company kneel here, kowtowing to the firefighting heroes and begging for forgiveness! They'll make them pay back every penny they owe! No! Double it!"

After saying that, he turned and left.

Steve, scratching his head, hadn't quite grasped what was happening yet. He shouted at Rorschach's retreating figure, "Rorschach! Why are you helping me? I mean, this has nothing to do with you, you don't need to get involved."

Luo Xia turned back and gave him a deep look, then winked mischievously: "Like you said, some things just have to be done by someone, right?"

"."

Steve stood there, staring at his departing figure, unable to recover for a long time.

inside the car.

Rorschach closed the car door and, before starting the engine, made a phone call to Clyde, who had once again fled south.

"Hey buddy, come back here, there's work to be done."

After hanging up, he caught a glimpse of an advertisement for the new mayor on the roadside; it was the same liberal congressman who had given a speech in front of the Statue of Liberty.

Being the mayor of New York City is a high-risk job.

Luo Xia flicked his cigarette butt out the window with a cold laugh, "Especially when I was in New York."

With a roar of its engine, the black car sped away.

----------

Inside the library base.

Harold, who was brewing green tea, suddenly shivered, a sense of foreboding washing over him.

His first thought was that Rorschach had gotten into trouble again, but then he shook his head.

It's just rescuing an elderly firefighter who was attempting suicide; nothing else should go wrong, right?
(End of this chapter)