America? No, it's the warp!

"What about your driver's license and medical insurance card? You should have those two, right?"

Logan used a strategic retreat: as long as he had any form of identification, he could reissue his veteran's giant certificate.

Esme didn't answer; she didn't even want to give that.

But now there's a fact she has to face.

The husband in front of her, in name only, is now a completely normal person and can no longer be fooled.

She glanced at the handsome face in the guest seat, then at the dark face of someone silently eating fish fillets.

I immediately felt a pang of regret.

"I'm not negotiating. If you can't find these documents for me today, the police will come asking for them tomorrow."

They only wanted some useless cards, not a house. After a brief deliberation, Esme decided to compromise.

"I'll go find it right now."

She went to the bedroom, leaving the living room to the two men.

Silence fell again, broken only by the sound of two people cutting fish fillets with knives and forks.

Logan ate his fish fillet while keeping an eye on the black man across from him, who might bite him like a mad dog; he didn't have many thoughts on his mind.

But black people are different.

He now felt immensely humiliated.

Verbal skills have never been his forte; what he excels at is achieving his goals by holding a gun to someone's forehead or by using his fists to make them submit.

but……

He looked up and glanced at Logan's physique.

It's not perfect, but it's the result of long-term training.

It's really hard to say who would win or lose if they fought.

No way! We have to get our revenge!

We need to deflate his arrogance!

The Black man looked around before finally fixing his gaze on the yoga room inside the house.

Through the slightly ajar door, you could see two treadmills inside.

Got it!

He is Black and comes from Jamaica in West Africa. His best sport is sprinting.

If he were a few years younger, he felt he could compete with Bolt on the track.

He pretended to pick up the dropped fork and glanced at Logan's leg.

The leg muscles are not very defined under the relatively fitted hiking pants.

very good!

You can tell at a glance that they never do cardio!

Then let me thwart your arrogance on the treadmill!

Once the thought was clear, the black man forgot to eat and stared intently at Logan across from him.

It made him feel uneasy.

"What kind of trouble is this chimpanzee up to now?"

After he finished eating the fish fillet, the black man suggested:

"How about some post-meal exercise?"

"There are two treadmills in the yoga room over there, want to have a contest?"

[How utterly ignorant of his own limitations! This lustful Slaanesh cultist dares to challenge a well-trained Imperial soldier in a physical contest! It seems Slaanesh has corrupted his brain, turning it into something that transmits genes. Accept this challenge, and with your second heart, show him the power of Imperial Truth, which is incomparable to that ethereal and illusory belief in evil gods.]

[Bonus Reward: +40 Merit Points]

"interesting."

Logan took a serious look at the black man's face.

There were indeed two barely noticeable dark circles under her eyes; Esme is quite adept at exploiting this feature.

"Okay! But let me make this clear beforehand: strenuous exercise after a meal is bad for your stomach. If you throw up everywhere, it's not my problem."

"You don't need to worry about that. When I was in Africa, I often went hunting after meals."

The two entered the yoga room and went up to the treadmill together.

"Set it to level 14 and let's see who can last longer."

The Black man proposed the rule that 14 gears was his normal level, and he could usually run for at least half an hour.

As for you...

He glanced at Logan's muscles.

Who trains at the gym without using performance-enhancing drugs?

Only a Black man like him from Africa would like such a primitive training method.

These seemingly educated white people are the most fond of using drugs; they use Ritalin to go to school and Trenbolone to work out.

Using that thing too much will make your heart and blood vessels as flimsy as paper.

I can run your heart out in 3 minutes, no, 2 minutes!

"it is good."

Gear 14 is not a difficult task for Logan. Although he is not a seasoned enthusiast, the original owner had three years of military training and his muscles have now recovered to their peak. Even if they are not as good as before, they should be about 5% or 6% of their previous level.

With 14 gears, it can run for at least 20 minutes.

As for this black guy?

He glanced at the other person's somewhat clumsy movements and unsteady gait.

All I can do is pray that the other person doesn't die on the treadmill.

Otherwise, the crippled gang would definitely come looking for trouble with him.

The two shifted to gear 14 and started simultaneously.

Within 30 seconds, the black man's heart rate spiked, rapidly approaching its limit, and his breathing became rapid.

Logan didn't feel anything.

In 40 seconds, the Black man's heart reached its maximum capacity, and he began to have some difficulty breathing.

Logan glanced at it and suppressed a laugh.

In 50 seconds, the black man felt some chest tightness, palpitations, and even felt his vision blurring.

His cadence began to become erratic, and he gradually became unable to keep up with the speed of the treadmill.

About a minute later, his brain began to experience insufficient blood supply, resulting in severe dizziness.

Logan hadn't even warmed up his muscles yet.

Neither heart reached even half of its maximum heart rate.

Ten seconds later, his calf suddenly cramped, and he fell off the treadmill.

Then my stomach churned, and I vomited all over the floor.

seconds.

Logan quickly covered his nose and stopped both treadmills.

"You still need to practice."

Prolonged lack of exercise, no warm-up, excessive indulgence, and immediately after eating.

A combination of factors resulted in Black people leaving a mess on the ground.

Esme heard the noise and came over carrying a box.

"Here are your documents; everything I could find is here."

She saw that the yoga room was in a mess.

"What happened?"

He insisted on racing me in a sprint.

Logan didn't explain much, he just stepped forward, took the box, opened it, and glanced inside.

Passport, green card, Social Security card, and a driver's license, which is essentially a nationally recognized form of identification.

One of the odd things about America is that it doesn't have a unified national identity card.

"It's not like a country, it's more like an alliance."

No wonder it's called Unova.

After Esme delivered the box, she went to check on the black man's situation. Since it was impossible for her to be with Logan, she couldn't afford to neglect this black man even more.

The Black man was breathing heavily; the cardiac overload he had just experienced over a minute had kept his heart rate from stopping.

Humiliation was his only emotion right now.

His only thought was revenge.

If you can't compete openly, then you have to resort to underhanded tactics.

Logan caught a glimpse of his changing expression out of the corner of his eye, from shame and indignation to sinister intent, and even a sly smile.

"Playing dirty tricks? Looks like I'll have to be careful around suspicious strangers lately."

"Now that you have your identification documents, I won't bother you any longer. Have a nice afternoon."

Logan left the yoga room with another thought in his mind:

"Just you wait, I'll personally kick you both out and let you experience the cutoff line for homeless people."

[Task Completed: I am who I am]

You have successfully obtained your ID document.

[Reward: +20 Merit Points]

[Your vocal artistry completely overwhelms these two Slaanesh devotees, proving the superiority of the Emperor's truth.]

[Reward: +20 Merit Points]