America? No, it's the warp!

"Oh? Is that so?"

Logan suddenly became interested in fitness. "Which gym?"

"Golden Jim!" George exclaimed without hesitation, then quickly disappeared into the streets.

His expression didn't seem like he was in a hurry; rather, it looked like he'd encountered someone who had something on him.

Golden Jim

Logan chewed on the name.

This is a gym brand that originated in Venice Beach in the 70s. It is known for its strength training, and most members are there to build muscle or improve their physique. The prices are in the lower to mid range.

This is a good place, a place that reveres power, and it should be easy to trigger tasks that can be completed through Khorne.

Moreover, he also needs a way to test his own strength, otherwise, when his Khorne value is high, he will knock out his opponent with one punch and will not be able to distinguish the specific damage.

Stepping into the store, Claire was already at the counter, sporting her usual sunny smile, as if the sadness of two hours earlier was just a passing breeze, already gone.

Good afternoon, Claire!

Good afternoon, Logan!

The shop assistants' eyes lingered on Logan for a few more seconds. He was dressed in a handsome brown jacket and black windbreaker pants, looking neat and dignified. He didn't look like someone facing certain death, but rather like a true American with a stable job and a stable home.

"Logan!"

Henry the Beard poked his head out of the office. His gaze didn't linger for long, and his face was gloomy. "Come to my office after you change into your work clothes. It's urgent."

"good!"

"Did something go wrong?"

Logan couldn't figure out what it was yet. He brought the green overalls he had worn for two days, changed into them, and put his own clothes into the fourth locker in the second row, which was given to him by the store.

He still wasn't wearing the matching green work hat today. Even though the original owner had already been cheated on, he still didn't want to wear it, since the manager wasn't forcing him to.

"Manager? What's up?"

Logan pushed open the office door and saw Henry working on documents in his notebook with a serious expression. There was a paper certificate on his desk.

"The search results are out, take a look for yourself."

He picked up the paper and saw a large red "No Criminal Record" at the bottom.

"Haha! You didn't expect that, did you? You don't have a criminal record!"

Henry burst into laughter; it turned out that he had been pretending to be serious to scare him.

Okay, it's unbelievable that a veteran, a mentally ill person, and a homeless person wouldn't have a criminal record, but that's the reality.

"Ha...ha, I thought it was something else..."

Logan pretended to be startled and played along with Henry's antics, because he had something else he wanted to ask for advice on.

After the manager calmed down, he found an opportunity to ask:

"Manager, I've thought about it, and I think what you said yesterday makes sense. I also believe there's something wrong with the process of my demobilization pay. Where should I go to investigate?"

"Hmm... I actually do know."

The manager quickly found an interface on the computer browser and showed it to him, "Log in to the VA.gov website, and you can check online directly."

"Or you can call 1-800-827-1000 to inquire."

"The least recommended way is to ask in person, as these places are all in the city center and quite a distance from Pioneer Square."

"but."

Henry straightened the computer, adjusted his glasses, and

"These either require uploading your passport, or entering your Social Security number (SSN), and you also need to prove that you are a veteran."

Which one do you have?

Logan didn't answer, he just slowly shook his head.

He didn't have any, to be precise.

He didn't have anything to prove he was American, let alone veteran status.

"With all documents lost, it is extremely difficult to recover one's identity one by one. We know what each employee looks like, and the whole process could take more than three months."

"but."

At this point, he seemed to have a flash of inspiration.

"If you can contact your former family members, if you still have any family members from before."

"You should have some documents at home. If you have even one of them, it will be easy to replace the others."

"Thank you for your suggestion, I will try to get in touch."

Logan left the office and returned to his workstation, his mind filled with thoughts of the original owner's family members who might still be alive.

My parents died early, and I have almost no contact with other relatives. After thinking about it, the only one I can think of is that bitch who is obsessed with Slaanesh.

His wife or ex-wife, Esme.

He didn't remember the phone number, but he did remember the address: apartment 604, 46 Jessler Avenue, Pioneer Square.

This is because the house was bought with the original owner's military service salary.

"After I go to the gym tomorrow, I'll go check it out there."

"There's no need to show any leniency to that Bicth then."

Today's work went very smoothly, with no black people or homeless people causing any trouble.

I don't know if it's because he sent that black guy in yesterday, or the police car parked across the street, or the Blood Gang members who keep popping out from the nearby alleys and watching this place.

In short, no tasks were triggered.

During his working dinner, Logan, as usual, sat outside the shop, avoiding the strong smell of leaves inside.

At that moment, Byron, the white salesman in the store, sat down next to him.

He knew every cannabis product in the store like the back of his hand and was very eloquent, but he never managed to sell many items.

He was said to have entered the store specifically for the discount on marijuana, and was a typical American young man who only drank marijuana and didn't skating.

"Hey Logan, did you see how embarrassed George is?"

He moved closer as soon as he sat down.

"I've never seen that muscleman so distracted as he is today. He even forgot to check customers' health insurance cards several times while he was working."

"I guess he was either rejected by Claire again, or he was overweight by 20 kilograms on the bench press."

"Or both."

Logan was not given a chance to speak; he rambled on and on.

"But there was something even stranger about him today."

"He was very nervous when he saw Claire and you, like he had just run into his drunken dad while skipping school."

Do you know why?

Logan finally got his chance to speak, but he couldn't reveal anything: "I don't know..."

He then immediately continued, just in case he was unable to speak again.

"Does George work out at Golden Gym?"

"Yeah, I often see two muscle guys who are overdosing on drugs like him waiting for him at the store entrance, and then they go into that gym together."

"Three people? That's the same situation as last night."

After finishing his dinner, Logan patted Byron on the shoulder:

"You should learn how to give others a chance to speak. If you keep talking like this, the customers will get tired of it and will just go for the convenient leaf cigarettes instead of the new extracts you're promoting."

"Speak," he said, getting up to throw away the trash, while Byron stopped eating and sat there lost in thought.

After get off work, Logan kept his promise from yesterday and today and drove Claire home.

The two chatted about trivial things along the way, but no mission was triggered.

It's like the system is deliberately working against him; even though he's only missing two tasks, he just can't get them.

On his way back to the tent, feeling dejected, Logan kept glancing into the alleyways along the roadside, hoping to stumble upon a scene that required a heroic act.

As we approached an alley, we suddenly heard hurried footsteps coming from inside.

Logan strode forward and saw a dark figure, dark enough to fill the night, running towards them, with a white police officer in pursuit.

"Hey! Stop that black guy for me! I don't have a gun!"

[Quest Reward: Fugitive]