I'm building Gundams in America

Maple Street.

This is a typical middle-class community, with rows of detached wooden houses lining both sides of the road. The clean and tidy lawns also show that the homeowners' association has strict standards for the community.

A man wearing a slightly worn delivery uniform was walking down the street carrying a rectangular box.

His steps were not fast, but very firm.

His slightly graying hair, paired with his kind face, made him appear very friendly.

They would greet the community residents who were mowing the lawn or pushing their children in strollers by the roadside in a friendly manner.

Soon, he arrived at 23 Maple Street.

When the doorbell rang, an ordinary-looking housewife came to open the door, and the sound of a dog barking came from inside.

A typical American family.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Marshall? This is your package, please check it."

The deliveryman handed over the gift with a smile.

"I imagine you have a happy family."

The woman took the box, smiled, and signed it, saying:

"Thanks."

He then took the box back into the house, opened it, and found a bouquet of beautiful marigolds inside.

There were no labels or markings on the box, making it impossible to tell who sent it.

But thinking about it, it should be her husband, Irving.

I never expected that policeman would still have a romantic side.

I thought he was focusing all his attention on his new car and those other women...

Does this mean he's changed his mind? Does it mean he's agreed to have a child?

However, giving marigolds as a gift is quite unique.

I wonder what the meaning is?

Who cares, as long as it's pretty, that's enough.

As the woman smiled and arranged the flowers in the vase, she dialed her husband's number at the police station and said:

"Hey honey, I received your flowers, they're so beautiful! Such a huge bouquet of marigolds, they're like the sun..." came Owen's voice from the other end of the phone.

"Darling, I don't understand, what marigold?"

The woman fiddled with the flowers on her phone, looking them up, and said:

"It's the bouquet of marigolds you ordered. The deliveryman just delivered it. He looks a bit old; I've never seen a deliveryman with gray hair before. Life must be tough..."

"Speaking of which, what is the symbolism of marigolds? Why did my AI search say that marigolds symbolize loyalty and sacrifice, and are used to commemorate martyrs?"

Inside the police station, upon hearing his wife's words, Owen felt a chill run down his spine; every hair on his body stood on end. He immediately said, "Catherine, put the flowers and box in the yard right now. I'm going back right now, immediately!"

He then hurriedly asked for leave and immediately drove home.

His instincts as a policeman told him that this bouquet of flowers was definitely not as simple as it seemed.

Moreover, the deliveryman described by his wife sounded very familiar.

He looks exactly like the old man he saw when he arrested that homeless saint!

After Wayne was arrested, Irving was initially a little uneasy and worried.

After all, the other party had a group of religious fanatics among their men, and recalling their frenzied display of almost immediate shooting, he was somewhat worried. However, he quickly received the money promised by the client, and those worries began to dissipate.

After all, he handled the case according to the rules and procedures, and everything was compliant. The homeless people couldn't do anything about it. In particular, Seattle is so big that the homeless people had no way of knowing where he lived.

Do you think they would dare to cause trouble at the police station?

They would be arrested on the spot.

The American state apparatus has never been afraid of threats. After all, with a powerful state apparatus in operation, people like Al Capone are no match for it.

When Irving heard from his wife Catherine that they had received a bouquet of marigolds, he panicked.

Then came a fit of rage.

Those bastards actually dared to find his house!

He's determined to make these guys pay!

That damn Wayne probably thinks this is some kind of last-century Chicago, and that this kind of threat will intimidate him. This threat alone could send that bastard Wayne to a hardened prison and give him decades in jail!

As Irving thought this through, he drove recklessly down the road.

Just then, his phone rang suddenly.

It was Jeff, a member of the team, who called.

Irving pressed the answer button and heard Jeff's somewhat flustered voice:

"Hey boss, Emma just called me. She was at home playing with the kids when she suddenly received a bouquet of marigolds from an anonymous sender... The delivery girl was Mexican, and I feel like I've seen her before..."

"I say, do we really have to arrest that damn saint? You saw it yourself, those homeless people are looking at him like he's some kind of Christ who was martyred!"

Irving took a deep breath and said:

"Jeff, brother, don't panic. I... Catherine also received flowers at home. I'm on my way home. I'll handle it..." "We're going to make that bastard pay the price and make him understand that this is the fucking 21st century, not the early 20th century when gunmen ran rampant."

"If you're still worried, it would be best if you went home..."

As Irving spoke, he hung up the phone, immediately turned on the siren, and slammed on the gas, accelerating again.

"bite."

With a soft click, a message popped up in his squad's message group:

"Hey guys, has anyone sent me flowers? I just got a message from my dad saying someone delivered a bouquet of marigolds to my house. As a bachelor, I don't recall any woman ever sending me flowers..."

"Damn it, I got a bouquet of flowers at noon too, also marigolds. Is this some kind of special event? Is someone celebrating something? Boss, did you get promoted?"

Irving's eyes widened, and he instantly realized that his guesses were correct.

It's definitely that damned saint!

Those who received the flowers were all colleagues who participated in that arrest.

With a sharp screech of brakes, Irving had already brought the car to a stop in front of his house.

He jumped out of the car and ran frantically toward his house, his mind replaying religious massacres like the Manson Family murders. Although he no longer had any feelings for his wife, his dog, whom he had raised from a puppy, was his true family.

Moreover, if something happens at home, he himself will almost certainly be implicated.

"Catherine! Catherine!" Owen shouted as he ran, drawing his gun, filled with regret for taking on this dirty job.

Provoking these lunatics is like provoking a bunch of fucking zombies.

The door opened, and Catherine said with a look of astonishment:

"Honey, why are you back? Why are you carrying a gun? You scared me to death..."

Irving breathed a sigh of relief, then ran into the house and found his golden retriever Joey playing with a ball. His heart, which had been hanging in suspense, was completely put at ease, and he quickly patted the dog's head.

Just as Catherine was about to ask him something, the doorbell rang suddenly.

Owen frowned, holding a gun in one hand and opening the door with the other. He immediately saw an old man with gray hair, dressed in a tattered deliveryman's uniform, standing outside.

It was that homeless man named Will.

Enraged, he shoved the door open, grabbed the man by the collar, pushed old Will to the ground, lunged at him, pressed the gun against his chin, and said viciously:

"You son of a bitch, what do you want to do!"

Old Will showed no panic whatsoever, as if what was pointed at him was not a gun but some sacred object. A hopeful smile appeared on his face as he said, "Officer Owen, this is just a gesture of goodwill from us. I think we can talk in the car."

Turning to look at his panicked wife, Owen reached out and touched old Will, confirming that he wasn't carrying a gun. He immediately pulled him up and took him into the police car.

His gun was pointed at the other party from beginning to end, and he dared not relax for a moment.

"Do you know that your actions will lead to Mr. Wayne receiving a heavy sentence? He would normally only get a few months in prison at most when he goes to court next time, but your actions are harming him," Owen said, looking at old Will.

The other person's calm smile made him uneasy and anxious.

He even had a vague feeling that this bastard in front of him was hoping he would shoot.

Like a fucking martyr.

Old Will said slowly:

"Officer Owen Marshall, as I said, we just wanted to express goodwill... You may not know what Mr. Wayne means to us."

"He saved my life, he stopped me from being a walking corpse, he gave me a sacred meaning."

"Before I met him, I was just a rat living aimlessly in the gutter, never understanding why I was alive... But now, I finally have the chance to enter heaven..."

"I need to retrieve something. Don't worry, it's just a small thing."

As he spoke, Old Will unzipped his jacket to indicate that he wasn't carrying any firearms. He then reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small knife. It was a fruit knife only the length of a finger, but the blade was remarkably sharp, clearly indicating frequent use.

Owen's eyes widened, he raised the gun in his hand, pointed it at old Will, and shouted:

"Put the knife down! Damn it, put it down right now!"

Although he was carrying a gun, he would have no choice but to shoot if the other party attacked him with a knife.

If they were to kill someone from the other side, it would be a situation of no return, a fight to the death.

Kill one madman, and a whole bunch of madmen will appear.

Having been a policeman for so many years, he knows this stuff all too well; he's seen several similar cases.

Old Will smiled and shook his head, saying:

"Relax, Officer Irving, relax."

As he spoke, he plunged the knife into his palm.

He stabbed very slowly, the blade gradually penetrating the blade; the pain was palpable, and blood immediately began to flow.

However, there was no sign of pain on his face; instead, he appeared calm and composed.

"Pfft..." With a sound of flesh being pierced, the blade had already emerged from the back of his hand.

Blood flowed down his palm, pooling into a small bloodstain on Irving's car seat.

Throughout the entire process, there was no trace of pain on his face, only an expression of serenity and reverence.

Irving was horrified, and immediately realized that these people's fanaticism far exceeded what he had previously thought.

They would do anything for that damn Wayne.

A bone-chilling cold surged from the depths of his heart, enveloping him entirely, as if he had fallen into a freezing rainy Seattle night.

"I'm sorry, sir, I really... I really didn't know... If I had known that Mr. Wayne was... such a respectable person, I would never have rashly gone to arrest him..."

Irving said quickly with an apologetic look on his face, his eyes reddening.

Fear made him tremble and even wanted to cry.

He just wanted to make some money, just wanted to pay off his car loan and mortgage, and he also wanted a better life.

His biggest regret now is taking on this dirty job and accepting the money.

If he had known he would be dealing with these people, he would have asked for at least ten times more!

Old Will, on the contrary, smiled and began to comfort the officer in front of him, saying:

"It's alright, it's alright, don't be afraid, Officer Owen. You just need to tell me who reported Mr. Wayne, and who ordered you to arrest Mr. Wayne."

They will handle the rest.