American comic: From Beijing with Love, starting with a mutant.

The black armored vehicle that Number One drove up was parked on the side of the road.

The car body was made of thick bulletproof steel plates, the tires were military-grade run-flat tires, and there was blood on the front corner of the car.

Stephen Chow walked around the armored vehicle, touched the door, and knocked on the roof.

"This is good stuff."

Lorna asked warily, "What are you planning to do now?"

"Is that even a question?" Stephen Chow said in anguish, slapping the hood of the car.

"Stryker is so rich that even a random cyborg can drive an armored vehicle. Isn't this kind of decadent capitalist asset just sitting on the street waiting to be confiscated? It must be properly recovered."

"You want to drive away?"

"Driving it away would be too conspicuous." Stephen Chow shook his head: "Sell it."

The soft-serve ice cream vendor's eyes widened: "Selling Stryker armored vehicles? To whom? Who would dare buy them?"

"Let me correct that."

Stephen Chow opened the driver's side door.

"It's now an abandoned vehicle; the owner has left the company."

Lorna glanced down at the upstairs.

"Does number one count as resignation?"

"Permanent resignation."

Stephen Chow was already in the driver's seat, his voice muffled as it came from inside the car. "The reason for leaving can be written as—illness, voluntary resignation."

The soft-serve ice cream was stunned for two seconds before it realized the double entendre and almost choked on its own.

Lorna almost burst out laughing, but then felt the occasion was too unserious and forced herself to hold it back.

Stephen Chow rummaged through the car and found a black box. When he opened it, he found cash, spare magazines, a first-aid kit, and several syringes inside.

He took out the cash, moistened his thumb with saliva, and counted the bills one by one.

"Two thousand eight hundred US dollars."

"Tsk, Stryker's crew has pretty high standards for business trips. How much is the daily travel allowance? Does it include meal allowance?"

Lorna said coldly, "That's their money for killing people."

"Now it's time to cover our evacuation expenses."

Stephen Chow stuffed the money into his pocket: "Money isn't good or bad, it's all about who spends it on. If you use it to buy a plane ticket, it'll turn over a new leaf."

After saying that, he took out his phone to search, and three search results popped up.

The nearest one is about a kilometer away, with a sign that says "Old Joe's Scrap Car Disposal" and a description that reads: cash transactions, no questions asked, open 24 hours a day.

"He's the one."

Zhou Xingxing nodded in satisfaction, then turned his gaze to the bald thug still lying on the ground on the side of the street.

"Don't kill me!" The bald man raised his hands, his palms covered in dirt and blood.

"I didn't see anything! I swear I didn't see anything! I'll go back and leave the Black Snake Gang, I'll go to church to repent, I—"

Stephen Chow squatted down in front of him, speaking in a kind tone.

"Brother, don't be nervous. We are civilized people."

The bald man looked at the corpses scattered on the ground, then at the pig-slaughtering knife behind Stephen Chow's waist.

He really wanted to ask, "Aren't your civilized standards a bit too lenient?"

Stephen Chow took out the small knife used for peeling apples.

The bald man's face turned green: "You're going to kill me?"

"Why would I kill you? Killing someone like you would just require cleaning up the scene, which is not environmentally friendly."

Stephen Chow patted his face.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"We're giving you an upgrade now. You'll be under close scrutiny by a well-known international anti-mutant organization. This is a rare opportunity, so make the most of it."

The bald man still tried to struggle.

Lorna stood to the side, a flash of green light appearing at her fingertips.

Several iron pipes in the trash can simultaneously floated up, their tips pointing at him.

The bald man immediately became obedient, closed his eyes, and shed tears of humiliation.

Stephen Chow moved very quickly.

With a quick slit, a flick, a push, and a quick swipe of the knife, I wiped away the blood droplets and then applied a band-aid.

It took less than ten seconds.

The bald man didn't even have time to cry out in pain.

Stephen Chow pressed the band-aid firmly and nodded in satisfaction.

"Okay. Remember not to shower, avoid strenuous exercise, or be near strong magnetic fields for three days."

The bald man cried and asked, "Then what should I do?"

"run."

"Where do you want to run?"

Stephen Chow thought for a moment: "The farther the better, preferably west. Nevada is good, the desert is big, it'll be easy for Stryker to find you."

The bald man completely broke down.

"Who exactly are you people?"

Zhou Xingxing stood up and adjusted his white felt hat.

"We are enthusiastic citizens who came to reduce the burden of policing at the grassroots level in the United States."

After he finished speaking, he took Lorna and the soft-serve ice cream and got into the armored vehicle.

The engine roared.

The armored vehicle slowly drove away from the street.

In the rearview mirror, the bald thug scrambled into the alley, beginning the first real chase of his life.

Lorna leaned against the passenger seat, tilting her head to look at Stephen Chow.

"Aren't you afraid Stryker will find out?"

"Discovery also takes time."

Stephen Chow, steering with one hand, said, "When he sees the signal moving, his first reaction is definitely to chase after it. It will take at least several hours for him to catch that thug."

"A few hours should be enough for us to evacuate?"

"not enough."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Delaying time is one thing," Stephen Chow said seriously. "On the other hand, I want to see Stryker's expression when he catches the gangsters."

Lorna remained silent for a moment.

"You're such a despicable person."

"Thanks."

Shortly after, the armored vehicle stopped in front of the used car recycling yard.

Stephen Chow was so moved by the line "No questions asked" that he almost clapped.

"Look! Look!" He pointed to the sign, then turned to the two people in the back seat and said, "Capitalism may be rotten, but the spirit of individual entrepreneurs is still very flexible. This service-oriented mindset is something we should learn from."

An elderly white man with a full beard walked out of the tin shack, holding a coffee in his hand.

He nearly spilled his coffee when he saw the armored vehicle.

"Fuck you! Where did you get this thing?"

Stephen Chow got out of the car, flashed a professional smile, and straightened the collar of his white suit.

"It's an heirloom."

Old Joe: "..."

He walked around the car, touched the bulletproof steel plate, and kicked the tires.

"Military conversion, there are definitely no permits."

"If I have the paperwork, I won't bother you anymore."

Stephen Chow was perfectly justified.

Old Joe squinted: "Five thousand."

Stephen Chow immediately lost his composure: "Five thousand?! You're robbing me! Are you a professional robber? Is running a junkyard your cover?"

Old Joe was stunned: "I paid for the car, how is that robbery?"

"This car has bulletproof steel plates, military tires, reinforced suspension, and an independent communication system; even if it were sold as parts, it would cost more than five thousand!"

Stephen Chow exclaimed indignantly, "You're taking advantage of our misfortune! You're bullying migrant workers who don't know the ropes!"

Old Joe sneered, "Then drive away."

Stephen Chow sat down on the broken chair next to him and crossed his legs.

"Talk. Talk properly. Show your sincerity, Comrade Qiao."

Lorna and the soft-serve ice cream stood to the side, watching Zhou Xingxing start haggling with an American junkyard owner.

The two argued for the last fifteen minutes.

The transaction price was US$12,200.

In addition, Old Joe gave him three barrels of gasoline, a case of canned goods, and a third-hand Dodge Challenger.

Stephen Chow held Old Joe's hand, his tone deep and serious.

"Comrade Qiao, you are a person with an internationalist spirit."

Old Joe slapped the cash into his hand: "Get lost."

"Okay."

Stephen Chow stuffed the money into his pocket and turned to leave.

Halfway there, he looked back at the armored vehicle again.

His face was filled with reluctance.

"Such a good car, it's being sold too cheaply."

Stephen Chow clutched his chest: "The greatest pain in life is knowing something is good, but not being able to get a receipt and take it home."