I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 103 The Unlucky Guy with a Broken Neck (7K Chapter, Requesting Monthly Tickets and Subscriptions)

Perhaps because of Mia, the black police officer Sam was relatively polite to Richard and sat with him in the back row.

The white detective sat silently in the passenger seat, while another officer drove.

The boy in the baseball cap, handcuffed to a chair leg and kneeling on the carriage floor, angrily shouted, "It's not fair! Why is he allowed to sit in that chair?"

Bang! Sam punched him in the stomach, grabbed his hair, and slammed his cheek hard into the seat.

"Fk! Shut up!"

The boy in the baseball cap was beaten so badly he couldn't make a sound, only gasping for breath.

Richard simply watched the scene quietly, saying nothing.

He activated his desire sensory abilities.

The three police officers did not harbor any hatred towards him; they were probably just following the rules.

On the contrary, the boy in the baseball cap leaned his face against the seat and glared fiercely at Richard.

He seemed to be cursing, saying that he wouldn't have been arrested if it weren't for Richard.

"You're insane!" Richard exclaimed again. "I'm going to call my lawyer!"

"A lawyer?" The white detective in front turned around, chuckled, and said, "Sure."

It sounds good, but nothing is being done.

Richard's mind raced.

Who did it?

He has never directly offended any NYPD officers.

Either it's a misunderstanding and the wrong person has been arrested, but it doesn't seem like it.

Either Miles or Henry, in their attempt to attack Brian, made me the entry point, and I ended up being caught in the crossfire.

Richard's vigilance had been raised to the highest level.

When it comes to political infighting, anything, no matter how shameless, can happen.

For example, committing suicide by shooting himself eight times in the back.

Things have gotten complicated.

Richard could easily kill the people in the car and escape, but it would be difficult to clean up the mess.

There were too many witnesses just now.

Richard said again, "I want to see a lawyer."

The white detective said impatiently, "That's enough! We suspect you of being heavily involved in the illegal fentanyl smuggling case. Behave yourself."

"Framed!" Richard had just finished speaking.

The young man in the baseball cap looked up, grinning mischievously, and said, "That's right! He's my accomplice! He's always been my supplier!"

Richard narrowed his eyes sharply, staring at the boy in the baseball cap, and demanded, "Accomplice? Do you know me? What's my name?"

"Your name is..." The boy in the baseball cap, quick-witted as ever, made up a random name: "Thompson! Just tell me your name is Thompson! Who knows if it's a fake!"

The white detective seemed quite surprised by what the boy in the baseball cap said. He had been struggling to come up with a suitable reason, but he chuckled and said, "Alright, now you're a prime suspect."

Richard decisively shut up and stopped talking. Saying anything now would be a waste of energy, and saying the wrong thing could become evidence against him.

Once Mia sees that she's been arrested, she'll probably inform Daniel, and the news will spread quickly. Brian will definitely be able to bail her out.

Richard was taken to the police station for a photo, fingerprints, and identity verification.

They were then pushed into an open, latticed, iron-fenced detention cell with no individual compartments, where dozens of people shared the cell.

This place was originally only meant to accommodate 20 people, but now it's crammed in over fifty disheveled individuals.

The drunkard causing trouble, the drug addict in jail, the speeding and traffic violators, the habitual petty thief—they're all talented individuals.

The air was thick with the mixed smells of sweat, alcohol, vomit, and cheap marijuana, like a garbage dump.

Someone was lying on the ground, fast asleep.

Someone was muttering in the corner.

Someone was huddled in a corner groaning; judging from the way they were scratching their heads, they were probably experiencing a drug addiction.

There was also a black guy squatting in the only toilet bowl, smoking a cigarette rolled with toilet paper, oblivious to everyone else.

Richard's keen sense of smell allowed him to detect every unpleasant odor, which made him feel increasingly worse.

The person next to Richard saw him enter and warily protected their seat, saying, "Kid! Get away from me, this is my seat!"

Richard glanced at the filthy seat, covered in all sorts of strange stains, who knew when they were left, and who knew if there were any weird viruses inside. He had no intention of sitting down.

A group of people stared at Richard, a clean-cut student who looked easy to bully.

Several thugs with tattooed faces grinned and pointed at Richard.

The best spot was the only bed, with snow-white sheets that looked freshly changed.

A burly, menacing-looking black man occupied the spot and was fast asleep on the bed. The newcomer didn't even open his eyes when he came in.

Even if there were empty spaces next to the bed, no one dared to approach.

Richard remained calm and looked around at his surroundings.

Outside the detention cell, there was only one obese white police officer. He had his feet up on the table, holding a donut in one hand and scrolling through TikTok with a silly grin in the other.

Since he was already there, he might as well make the best of it. Richard waited quietly, confident that someone would bail him out within an hour at most.

Until then, just keep quiet.

Richard simply activated his Desire Sensing ability to observe this group of absolute social underclass Americans.

Each person had a different flame floating above their head, representing anger, fear, despair, lust, and hatred—it was practically a concentration camp of negative emotions.

A moment later, the white detective from before walked into the detention area, and the officer who was scrolling on his phone quickly stood up.

The white detective ignored him, walked to the edge of the detention cell, and banged on the bars.

Richard noticed that the strong black man on the bed opened his eyes.

The white detective winked at him and then left without saying a word.

Richard immediately noticed that the black man was staring at him fiercely, and the flame of desire above his head had taken on a new color of "excitement".

Richard watched him silently.

The Black man wanted to see fear on Richard's face, but he failed.

A few minutes later, the black man, impatient to wait any longer, stood up and walked toward Richard, while the people in the detention cell wore gloating expressions.

That yellow-skinned monkey is in for a world of trouble!

At that moment, the boy in the baseball cap was brought in by two policemen, who were handcuffed behind his back.

The burly black man stopped and stood still, waiting.

The fat policeman on guard slammed the iron gate open.

"Behave yourself! Don't cause trouble!" The two policemen pushed the boy in the baseball cap into the detention cell, unlocked his handcuffs, and hurriedly left.

As soon as the man in the baseball cap saw Richard, he rushed over and said menacingly, "Don't touch Simela, that girl is mine."

97

Richard was speechless.

What kind of nonsense is this?

He had just eaten a burrito at a Simeira stall when he met a crazy woman who wanted to marry him.

Then I ran into a brainless, sycophantic drug dealer who said, "You're already stuck here, and you're trying to screw me over for this?"

Very well... Richard's eyes turned dangerous. Since you've done this, you'll have to pay the price.

Just then, the burly Black man squeezed through the crowd and shoved the boy in the baseball cap aside, yelling, "Get out of the way!"

The guy in the baseball cap, with his back to the Black man, didn't see who it was and angrily jabbed him in the ribs: "F***! Who dared to push me!"

Only after stabbing him did she see what the Black man looked like, and she was instantly terrified: "I'm sorry..."

""

The Black man looked over coldly.

The people around fell silent for a moment; how dare this guy provoke this deadpan face?

Richard seized the opportunity to unleash "Touch of Pain".

The black man was just a little annoyed and only wanted to teach the boy a lesson, so he did what the detective asked him to do.

But the next second, he felt a sharp pain where his elbow had hit him.

The pain was indescribable, as if it were emanating from the depths of my soul.

The black man's face changed drastically. He groaned and collapsed to the ground with a thud, convulsing in pain.

Everyone around was terrified.

The boy in the baseball cap was terrified: "I really just poked him randomly—"

He weighs only 130 or 140 pounds, while that black man weighs at least 200 pounds. How could he possibly knock the other down with just one elbow, and look like he's in so much pain he looks like he's about to die?

The surrounding gazes gradually turned gloating and disdainful.

Turns out that black guy was just a show-off; I thought he was really tough.

The police officer next to him noticed something was wrong and came over with his baton.

"What are you doing!"

Richard immediately relieved himself of the painful touch and stepped aside: "They were fighting."

At the same time, he used his desire to manipulate and push the anger of Black people to its limit.

The guy in the baseball cap was almost in tears: "I just touched him, maybe I accidentally touched a particularly painful spot, really, I didn't hit hard..."

The overweight police officer angrily searched for his keys: "Behave yourselves! Get out of the way!"

The black man finally recovered, angrily got up, and slammed the boy in the baseball cap to the ground like a bull.

The pain was secondary; the main problem was losing face in front of so many people.

Enraged, the Black man slammed a full-force punch into the man in the baseball cap's face: "MF! I'm going to kill you, you bastard!"

boom!

The boy in the baseball cap didn't even have time to scream before he passed out, and his nose immediately became crooked.

The black man, however, refused to give up and unleashed a flurry of punches, leaving blood splattering everywhere.

The boy in the baseball cap was jolted awake by the pain, screaming in agony.

The overweight officer was startled: "Damn it! Let go! Don't hit him anymore! Are you trying to kill him? Victor, let go!"

The officers pulled hard on the fence, but they couldn't pull Victor away no matter what they did.

Viktor's mind was filled with savage killing intent, and he beat the skinny boy in the baseball cap like an enraged black bear.

Bang bang bang!

The boy in the baseball cap was still making noise, but after crying a few times, he fell silent. He had been knocked unconscious, and his face was unrecognizable.

The overweight policeman exclaimed in terror at Victor, "Are you going to kill him? Victor! You were just speeding! What are you doing?!"

Victor seemed to have lost his mind and continued to beat her relentlessly.

The other prisoners huddled in a corner, watching in terror from afar.

This guy's gone mad!

He wanted to kill me just because I touched him!

"Someone come quick!" the fat police officer shouted, waving his baton at Victor.

Victor, however, stubbornly endured the baton and continued to beat the boy in the baseball cap.

Richard stood quietly to the side, his face expressionless.

Soon, four policemen rushed in and struggled to pull Victor off the boy in the baseball cap.

"Let me go! I'm going to kill him!" Victor struggled violently, his expression ferocious, as if he wanted to devour someone.

Crackling sounds!

He was too strong; even four policemen couldn't pull him away.

There was no other way but to use the Taser. Victor was thrown to the ground stiffly amidst the electric shocks, then handcuffed and dragged out of the detention area.

Only then did everyone realize that the boy in the baseball cap had his neck bent at an odd angle, and his body was still trembling despite being unconscious.

It seems that even if he can be saved, he will be paralyzed from the waist down.

The overweight policeman cried out in terror, "Damn! This kid's neck's broken! Doctor! Help!"

Police officers and doctors were coming and going.

Richard remained standing quietly in the corner, watching as if the whole affair had nothing to do with him.

Miles watched the chaotic scene in the detention cell on the monitor and angrily smashed his coffee cup.

Fk!

Victor is a piece of trash!

Black people can't be trusted!

I told you to deal with Richard, why are you targeting the others?

They even broke someone's neck!

This is troublesome. If that kid dies, Victor will definitely confess that Detective York ordered him to beat the guy.

That slippery Detective York will definitely give himself away!

Fk!

Daniel was startled: "What? Richard's been arrested? What happened?"

Mia spoke fluently, almost like she was rapping: "I just saw Richard eating at a burrito stand outside, and then a bunch of cops showed up and arrested the owner. I know that guy, he's always dealing drugs, he's no good..."

1

"Hey! Hey! Get to the point, Mia!" Daniel was sweating profusely and didn't have time to listen to Mia's nonsense.

Mia said embarrassedly, "Oh, well, in the end, Richard was arrested by the police as an accomplice, which was embarrassing."

Daniel exclaimed incredulously, "An accomplice? He's just a customer!"

"Yes! That's what I told the police too. I went to stop the ugly guy, but that Sam kid was really unreasonable. No matter what I said, he wouldn't let him go, and he even secretly told me that it was my superiors' doing."

What does that mean? Daniel's head started to ache. How did Richard, a middle school student, get involved in so much stuff? "Ugly, I know! Mia! I owe you a favor."

Daniel quickly hung up the phone and immediately called Ugly Christina.

When it comes to the NYPD, he only knows a few junior officers, which is of no use whatsoever.

Soon, Christina's calm voice came through: "Daniel?"

"Richard got arrested by the police, that's embarrassing." Daniel quickly sketched out the embarrassing situation.

Christina paused for a moment: "Okay, leave this to me. You don't need to worry about it being ugly."

He immediately hung up the phone, his mind racing.

She wasn't worried about Richard, but rather about the police station.

If Richard really does turn ugly, he might turn the NYPD into a giant graveyard.

It's unimaginable how much trouble a supernatural being with all sorts of mysterious abilities could cause if truly angered.

Most importantly, our Lord is a god, and you lowly mortals dare to arrest him!

Christina quickly calmed down and called Ugly Brian Anderson first.

Brian nearly jumped up after hearing a few of those ugly remarks: "Richard got arrested by the police? F***ing! It was Miles who did it."

Who is Miles?

"Chief Superintendent! It must be him!" Brian shouted. "I'll send a lawyer over right away, but in your name. Miles has a grudge against me, and my men will backfire."

""

How to retaliate will be discussed later; first, we need to get Richard out of there to prevent bloodshed throughout New York.

Christina nodded: "No problem. Let's get Richard out on bail first, then we'll talk about it."

The two shared the same thought: they absolutely couldn't let Richard lose his temper, or who knows what kind of trouble he would cause.

Brian called O'Connor: "There's a very important person named Richard, you've met him, a student from East Coast University. He's been arrested and put in the Ugly Detention Center, probably by Miles. Go check on him first, don't let Richard get hurt, keep him calm, absolutely keep him calm!"

O'Connor had no idea who was making Brian so nervous.

Richard? Isn't that the high school student who saved Ugly Brian's life?

Is such an urgent action worthwhile?

Wouldn't that expose us?

I might be exposed...

"6

"You have to protect him even if it means exposing yourself! Otherwise, we'll all die!" Brian wasn't exaggerating at all.

"OK!" O'Connor tensed up. He didn't understand, but he didn't dare disobey Brian's order. He coldly headed towards the cell.

Soon, he saw a group of people dragging out a violent Black man who was still shouting, "I'm going to kill him! Let me go! I'm going to kill him!"

O'Connor's heart sank immediately: "Oh no, Richard hasn't been beaten up, has he?"

Then he saw a blood-soaked person being carried out. His heart skipped a beat, and he rushed forward to take a look.

He's Latino, and O'Connors has an ugly tone.

"What happened?"

"Oh, that guy named Victor has gone crazy for some reason, he insists on hitting this kid."

What kind of trick is this now? O'Connor was at a loss for words.

"It's so ugly, I'm going to check out the temporary detention area."

O'Connor arrived at the detention area without making a sound, and this time he did not attract attention, because the chaos attracted a lot of police officers, who were afraid that something else would happen.

He soon saw Ugly Richard.

The detention cell was in a mess, but Richard sat calmly on the only bed, his clothes and hair perfectly normal.

Looks like he didn't get beaten up. O'Connor breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the others were fighting; this kid was lucky.

Under the police officers' control, the scene finally stabilized. A group of police officers chatted in twos and threes, while the prisoners in the detention area whispered among themselves.

While the others were chatting, O'Connor quietly walked over to the fence of Richard's bed and glanced at the ugly Richard.

Richard saw a kind and anxious glint in his eyes, and then looked at his name tag, which read "O'Connor".

He's Brian's man.

Richard didn't turn around, he just turned slightly to the side.

O'Connor said softly, "Don't say anything. The police are Miles's men, and the lawyer will be here soon."

"OK." Richard sat up straight.

O'Connor waited a while longer, and seeing that the situation was relatively stable, and worried that Miles would find out, she left to report to Brian.

Moments later, Miles, citing a disturbance, had all the prisoners dragged away and taken to different rooms for temporary custody.

Richard was put into a private room.

He knew the real drama was about to begin.

A few minutes later, a policeman in a high-ranking uniform walked into the room and slammed a folder onto the table in front of Richard.

The door was slammed shut.

He dragged over a chair, slammed it down in front of Richard, sat down in a swaggering manner, and stared directly at Richard, putting psychological pressure on him.

The name tag clearly read: Miles Field, NYPD Chief Superintendent.

Richard quietly watched Miles, watching the flickering flame above his head.

Miles wasn't as calm and unrestrained as he appeared.

This guy's mind is in turmoil; fear, anxiety, caution, and impulsiveness are burning within him, with caution and impulsiveness even conflicting with each other.

Richard remained calm, his eyes fixed on Miles's.

A minute later, Miles felt uncomfortable; he felt like he was the one being interrogated.

He suddenly opened the folder, making a loud noise.

Richard remained silent, watching him without asking or saying anything.

Miles waited and waited for a long time but didn't hear any doubt or fear from the other party. This reaction was completely unlike that of an ordinary international student.

High school students, for some reason, seem like gods looking down on us.

The flames of impulse and anxiety burning above Miles' head were even uglier.

"Richard!" Miles shouted. "I've already checked your records. International students involved in drug trafficking will be deported. And if you bring drugs back to the US, you'll be arrested and imprisoned. Think about it."

Richard calmly replied, "I need to see a lawyer."

Miles remained noncommittal, removing the mechanical watch from his wrist and placing it on his knuckles like a brass knuckles. A sinister grin spread across his face. "There are no cameras here. To be honest, I absolutely hate you yellow-skinned people, you're like fleas all over New York. If you don't behave, I'll show you the difference between the police station and school."

""

Richard glanced at Ugly Fist, remaining calm: "You know, I studied forensic medicine. I have plenty of ways to prove what you did to me, and even without Zhe, I can make doctors believe you did it. You know my teacher is Christina Shepard, and many doctors are willing to help me."

Miles was stunned for a moment before realizing what was happening: "Fk! Are you threatening me?"

He never expected that this seemingly fair-skinned middle school student would be so tough.

Richard said, "No, I'm just stating the facts. I dissect several corpses every day at OCME, so I know how to leave what kind of marks on my own body to guide doctors to make the wrong judgment."

Richard's composure left Miles somewhat bewildered.

Christina Shepard is not someone to be trifled with; if she were to truly lose her temper, Miles would have a difficult time dealing with her.

Don't underestimate this person just because he's a scholar. The person who controls Hengyi's R&D budget every year has influence that permeates all aspects of society.

Miles could only forcefully suppress his anger and give himself a way out: "Kid, listen, I don't want to beat you up. You have two choices: either testify in court at the appropriate time that Mike delivered a large sum of cash to Debbie, and that you saw a lot of cash in his car; or I'll hand you over to ICE, and CE will throw you back to East University. Think about it, kid. Your teacher is Christina, your future is bright, there's no need to embarrass a dead person—"

Richard glanced around and, sure enough, there were no cameras: "You want me to commit perjury?"

"I didn't say that, you said it." Miles grinned.

"Aren't you afraid I'll agree to be ugly and then change my mind?"

"Heh heh." Miles sneered, "I have witnesses and physical evidence that you participated in an illegal cesarean section at OCME! Remember, I'm from the NYPD."

"Superintendent General, I'm a big shot! You can't imagine the extent of my power. I have plenty of ways to send you back to your country!"

Witness? Richard remained silent for a moment.

Some people at OCME make themselves look bad from behind, or make the whole OCME look bad from behind.

Having part-time morgue technicians participate in autopsies has been a long-standing, unspoken rule in the operation of OCME. Not only is he illegally performing autopsies, but if this is exposed, Marlowe will be in serious trouble.

Who would that be?

Physical evidence?

The only physical evidence available is the video footage taken at the scene.

Forensic doctors cannot betray themselves; they also bear responsibility.

Irving is an honest person; he will only report things on the spot, not secretly snitch on them.

So, it must be either James or Rex; only those two have seen their own autopsies.

Richard's silence convinced Miles he'd found a weakness. He stood up and looked down at Richard: "Think about it. Victor was just the first; you were lucky to have been embarrassed. If you don't agree, I can throw you into a cell full of gay men... You don't want that to happen, do you?"

Richard squinted his ugly eyes.

Because there were no cameras, Miles spoke without restraint.

He was just an international student at the University of Tokyo, and he wasn't afraid of offending him.

Just then, bang!

The door was suddenly flung open.

Miles was startled and turned around to see a man with meticulously combed hair and gold-rimmed glasses, who looked like a lawyer.

Miles roared, "Who! Who let you in? Don't you know I'm interrogating a suspect?!"

The lawyer calmly stated, "I am lawyer Rory Quilland, and I am here on the behalf of Professor Christina Shepard. This is my client, Richard."

Rory Quiran! Miles felt half-shudder at the mere mention of that name; this infamous litigious lawyer had once dominated the entire NYPD.

He was completely subservient to them, and dared not face Rory Quiran, so he could only say harshly to Richard, "Dr. Shepard values ​​you quite a bit, and you're certainly quick, but this isn't over!"

Rory Quiran shouted, "Mr. Miles, Chief Inspector, I want you to watch your words! You are threatening my client!"

"Hmph." Miles left Ugly with a cold face.

The lawyer arrived much faster than he had anticipated.

The instant Miles left the room, Richard decisively activated his urge to control Miles, maximizing his anxiety, impulsiveness, and fear while minimizing his caution.

Miles appeared to have no reaction on the surface, only his steps slowed slightly.

But Richard knew the damage had already been done.

People who lose control of their emotions are bound to make mistakes; it's just a matter of what Miles will do tonight.

This trouble must be decided today.

In the past, Miles only bothered Brian, which he couldn't be bothered with, but if it affected him, he would be asking for trouble.

After Richard finished doing all this, he stood up, extended his hand to Rory Quilland, and said with a smile, "Thank you very much, Mr. Quilland."

Rory Quillan gave an ugly smile and said softly, "Mr. Brian Anderson asked me to give his regards."

Richard understood that Christina had enormous influence, but the pace of her promotion couldn't be that fast. Only a seasoned politician like Brian would work with a top lawyer for years.

"I will personally visit Representative Anderson to express my gratitude."

Rory Quiran smiled amicably: "Don't worry, it's a small matter. I have witnesses; you were just a customer eating out, and that Latino drug dealer has nothing to do with you. You have a good record, and you're Dr. Shepard's academic successor, so the NYPD can't do much to you. But be careful next time, don't eat at those lousy stalls. The NYPD is watching you."

Richard is the kind of person who could be a major client in the future.

Richard was released on $2 bail and successfully left the NYPD.

No one dared to stop Christina and Rory-Quillan from pairing up, and Miles didn't do anything more.

Rory Quiran asked, "Do you want me to take you home?"

Richard shook his head: "No, thank you, I have something else to do."

"OK." Rory Quilan drove away in an old-fashioned Maybach; he was clearly a wealthy man.

In the United States, top lawyers are among the highest-paid professionals.

Richard picked up his phone; Brian's call had already come in: "Master, how is it?"

Richard remained calm: "End the ugly affair. Why was he in such a hurry? Even going so far as to interrogate me personally?"

Brian carefully released him.

It turns out that O'Connor sneaked into Miles' office to make a phone call, which led to Murphy's downfall.

With Murphy's death, the NYPD's pursuit and crackdown on the BG gang reached a stalemate, and Larry immediately noticed this, so the NYPD...

A major investigation is underway to uncover internal spies.

Miles must have realized the embarrassment by then: the call was made from his office!

Now the yellow mud is rotting in my crotch; even if it's not shit, it's still shit.

Miles has to do something to save himself, but no one knows what he's up to. What started as an internal power struggle within the NYPD has somehow gotten to Richard.

"Next..." Brian asked cautiously, after all, he was the one who caused this whole thing, and he was afraid that Richard would take his anger out on him.

Richard said coldly, "Isabella is your woman. Let Push go and pressure Miles now. The rest is none of your concern."

"Okay." Brian was overjoyed; his master was finally going to make a fool of himself!

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