American comics: This guy is crazy.

Chapter 402 The Dog-Loving and Money-Spending Top-Tier Assassin

At this moment, in Allen's private cell at Arkham Asylum.

In an instant, Allen vanished into thin air.

However, the image on the television screen continued to play.

……

On this day, the entire city was filled with a sense of grief.

Not long ago, humanity faced an unprecedented disaster, and heroes paid a heavy price to fight against invaders and protect all mankind.

This includes many well-known superheroes.

In remembrance of the fallen, it is thus named the day of the heroes' final moments.

Moreover, on this day, the villains reached a consensus not to cause trouble.

"Don't run!"

Two white police officers on patrol, their bellies swaying, chased after a young man in a hospital gown.

Without a doubt, the young man was Allen.

Having traveled through time, it just so happens to appear in front of two patrol officers who are eating donuts.

Under normal circumstances, one would naturally not want to pay attention to a young, energetic person.

The problem was that before Allen time-traveled, he had his pants down to his knees facing the TV, but he forgot to put them back on after the time travel was over.

The patrol officers, who were originally inclined to avoid trouble, discovered that someone was openly walking their penis in broad daylight, which constituted the crime of nudity.

The key issue is the ring-like band on top, which is truly an eyesore.

Therefore, as a righteous policewoman, America is determined to crack down on eccentric individuals.

Thus, a chase ensued.

Allen ran with his fingers clasped together, his upper body leaning back, swinging his arms, looking as abnormal as could be.

A normal person should lean forward when running, but he did the opposite.

However, after chasing for several hundred meters, at a subway corner, the burly policeman was panting and looking around anxiously.

"Where did they go?"

"I just saw a shadow of it."

Before long, they chose a direction to continue tracking.

In a corner of the subway, piles of personal belongings were stacked. A homeless Black man, seeing that the police had left, patted the tent to remind them, "They're gone."

The zipper was unzipped, and Allen peeked out, saying gratefully, "Thank you, Beggar Clan Leader."

Having said that, he crawled out of the tent, preparing to leave.

"Wait a moment."

The Black homeless man shook the tin can, and the coins inside jingled together.

"How could I possibly accept that?"

Allen shyly reached into the tin can, showing no sign of embarrassment whatsoever.

The Black homeless man withdrew his hand and put the tin can back, saying angrily, "I asked you to give me money."

Forehead…

Allen turned his pants pockets inside out and said with a bitter look, "How about I beg it back for you?"

"Get lost if you have no money," the Black homeless man said impatiently, waving his hand.

At that moment, heavy footsteps echoed inside the subway.

Looking up, I saw two policemen hurriedly running back.

Seeing this, Allen crawled back into the tent to hide.

"Headquarters, requesting backup. Gunfight has broken out in the waiting area of ​​Metro Line 13."

"Attention officers on duty in Brooklyn: Please do not approach the following accident locations..."

However, the evacuation order came through the walkie-talkie.

This is very intriguing.

Upon hearing the message, the two policemen cursed and fled the subway, immediately realizing that an officially sanctioned organization was engaged in a shootout.

Often, once the fight is over, someone will come out to clean up the traces, as if nothing had happened.

Earning two or three thousand a month, there's no reason to risk my life getting involved in this mess.

Before long, a middle-aged man with long hair, dressed in a suit, ran to the homeless man's side.

"Feel sorry…"

Clang!

Before the black homeless man could refuse, the long-haired middle-aged man dropped a gleaming gold coin into his begging supplies.

Suddenly, the black homeless man's expression changed drastically, his expression faltering.

"Don't hide in here."

Seeing the long-haired middle-aged man about to crawl into the tent, he hurriedly stopped him, lifting up a pile of dirty old clothes beside him and giving him a look that suggested he hide inside.

After a slight hesitation, the long-haired middle-aged man endured the moldy and sour smell and gritted his teeth to squeeze inside.

In less than a minute, several ruthless assassins arrived in pursuit.

He blatantly held up a pistol, his eyes quickly locking onto the black homeless man.

"Have you seen John?" the leader asked coldly.

The Black homeless man was unfazed. He shook the coins in the tin can—the gold coin had already been hidden—and said in a calm, hoarse voice, "Follow the rules."

The assassin seemed quite wary of his target and dared not force him. However, he couldn't produce any valuable gold coins, so he could only give one of his men a look, implying that the target was inside the tent.

They are a large, interconnected organization of assassins with a clear rule that requires each member to pay at least one gold coin for a job.

The gold coins are not only symbolic, but one coin can be exchanged for millions of US dollars, making them the organization's hard currency.

Several assassins slowly approached, pistols raised, ready to empty their magazines at any moment.

"It stinks!"

Suddenly, Allen unzipped his pants, leaned out, and gasped for breath. He couldn't help but shout, "Boss, how long has it been since you took a shower? The smell in the tent is like aged vinegar—sour and stinky. I'll never eat dumplings again in my life!"

"..."

The group of assassins stared in disbelief at the unfamiliar young man before them.

The open tent offered a complete view, but there was no sign of the target at all.

"Walk!"

Finding nothing, the leader of the assassins wasted no more time and continued the pursuit in one direction.

"who are they?"

Allen watched the assassin's retreating figure and muttered, "It's like a scene from a movie."

The Black homeless man, too lazy to deal with the mentally ill, instead pulled John out of his pile of old clothes.

John was clutching the gunshot wound in his abdomen; his face was as pale as paper, and he looked extremely weak.

"Constantine!?"

Clearly, Allen mistook him for someone else at first glance. After a closer look, he realized who it was and exclaimed, "So it's John, the dog lover who's been relentlessly pursuing his prey, the so-called 'money-spraying killer'!"

Upon hearing this, the Black homeless man frowned slightly and asked, "Are you a hitman?"

"That happened decades ago. I was a trainee in the Assassin's Guild for a while," Allen said proudly, tossing his hair.

"..."

What Assassin's Guild?

I've never even heard of it.

How could the assassin council entrenched in New York possibly touch a multinational assassin alliance?

The two are completely incomparable.

"Take me to a hotel in mainland China."

"OK."

The weakened John took out another gold coin, but Allen snatched it first and carried him on his back without saying a word, giving the black homeless man no chance to stop him.

"..."

The Black homeless man remained silent for a long time, watching the two people who had run in the wrong direction.

"John, hang in there, think about your dog."

Allen carried a person on his back and walked briskly. When he saw that John had gone the wrong way, he tried to speak to guide him, but the jolting caused his wounds to ache, so he could only grit his teeth and endure it.

"Sorry, your dog died, but you could at least think about your wife waiting for you... Oh, sorry, I just remembered your wife died too."

"..."

(End of this chapter)