Super Detective in the Fictional World - Chapter 1785
Chapter 1785: Not Strong Enough
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the final location for this operation. Eddie looked at the information and realized that his new boss was really generous: The final mission tonight was a buffet of points.
The virtual screen in front of him showed 20 or so people in a three-story building not far away.
Looking at the number of people and the various weapons that were specially tagged on the screen, he was a little nervous. “What do I do next?”
Selina said, “You have the gear. Go in and find out for yourself.”
Eddie was lost for words. Wasn’t this basically asking him to charge in and fight all of them?
Selina said, “Remember, the minimum requirement is that all the criminals should be hospitalized for two months.”
Eddie said, “Er, they don’t have medical insurance. They might not have the money to go to the hospital.”
Smartass! Selina mumbled to herself. “Three months in bed at home is fine too.”
Eddie admitted that he was still too green.
Hearing that, he almost felt guilty. With just a few words, these hoodlums would need to be bedridden for another month.
But his new boss had given the order, and he still owed 50 credit points for the gear. He had no choice but to beat them up.
Taking a deep breath, he strode out of the bushes and headed straight for the entrance of the three-story building.
The two hoodlums at the door weren’t on guard at all. It wasn’t until Eddie was two meters away that they looked at him blankly. “You…”
“Huh? What cosplay is this?” A hoodlum who had clearly interacted with the cosplay circle before was shocked.
The hoodlum laughed out loud. “Do you think you’re Batman? You come strutting out in some plastic shell. If you don’t want to die, get lost.”
In the car in the distance, Selina sighed. “San Francisco thugs really aren’t as soft as in New York. They have guts!”
Luke lowered his seat and raised his legs as he put them up on the dashboard to the left of the steering wheel. He had coffee in one hand and an egg tart in the other. “That’s good. The thugs in New York immediately run off when they see someone dressed in something similar, which makes me a little embarrassed to take action.”
Selina was astonished. “You, embarrassed?”
Luke said, “Of course. They have a statue of Batman at their front doors, and pray to it before they start work every day.”
It had to be said that it worked well for the New York hoodlums. At the very least, the thieves and pickpockets at the bottom rarely got broken bones when they went out to make a living; at most, their heads would hurt for two days.
In comparison, the San Francisco hoodlums still insisted on brazen lying, swindling and stealing.
Selina rolled her eyes. “That’s right. They pray every day not to run into us. They’re practically fanatical about it.”
Luke didn’t think much of it. “Of course. The upright hope that God stays in the sky; it’ll be awkward when they see each other every day otherwise.”
After Buddha received enlightenment, he ascended to heaven.
After Lao Tzu comprehended the Dao, he left on a water buffalo.
The implication behind these legends was: You’re already a big god, hurry up and ascend. It’s demeaning for you to be around mortals!
That was also why Luke had decisively let Batman “ascend.”
Someone who was too perfect shouldn’t exist in the human world.
While they were chatting, Eddie, this newly minted “warrior,” had already started his performance.
He tried to recall the videos he had watched of Batman — it had to be Batman, not the Dark Knight — and he assumed what he thought was the most intimidating pose.
It was common knowledge that Batman was the most feared existence.
Those blood-red eyes and the tall and sturdy Bat suit were nightmares that many bosses often woke up from in the middle of the night.
Of course, Eddie wasn’t wearing any version of the Bat suit; at Selina’s request, all the suits were stored in the basement as souvenirs.
What Luke had given Eddie was an experimental suit.
Luke had played around with the design and paid attention to appearance for once.
In the end, the Bat Squad members weren’t satisfied with the armor’s combat ability, so nobody wore it in battle.
But since this armor was in a cosplay style, it was clearly different from most of Luke’s armor. In one word: Cool.
The difference between the Bat suit and this experimental suit was like the difference between the Hulkbuster and a Gundam.
The Hulkbuster had to meet all sorts of combat requirements. No matter how rich the tycoon was, there was a limit to how good he could make it look.
As for a Gundam, aerodynamics, fluid mechanics and standard mechanics were all thrown to the back of the head – the only thing it needed to be was cool.
That was also why the hoodlums at the door immediately thought that Eddie was a cosplayer.
That was because everybody felt that only armor like the type Batman and Iron Man wore were the most convenient for beating people up.
Not only did the suit in front of them look highly exaggerated, it also had two huge metal wings. Regular movement was hard, to say nothing of beating up people.
Eddie, however, wasn’t angry at all.
He had already tested the suit on his way here.
This strange armor really suited him. Even if he owed half a million bucks for using it this time, he didn’t feel that it was a loss.
On the virtual screen, the two hoodlums at the door were a light red.
This meant that they had at least committed a minor crime.
It wasn’t just them; everybody in the building also had a color.
The darker the red, the worse the crime.
The mission requirement was that dark red targets should have four broken limbs, bright red targets should have at least one broken limb, and anything was fine for light red targets.
Looking at the hoodlum who cursed and shoved him, Eddie simply grabbed the man’s wrist and pushed him against the wall.
The hoodlum’s head created a dent in the wall.
It wasn’t that he had an iron head, but that the wall was made up of very ordinary metal plating.
But at that moment, the other party’s eyes were full of stars as he lay on the ground with an expression that said, “The world has nothing to do with me.”
Stunned, the other hoodlum reached for the gun at his waist.
Eddie grabbed his shoulder, forced him to spin around, and pushed again.
The guy’s face hit the wall, and he passed out.
There was no such thing as a hard head.
That was the price of taking out his gun.
Sensing that the hooligans whom he had feared like tigers in the past had suddenly become as weak as chickens, Eddie couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Indeed, it wasn’t that he had wanted to keep a low profile in the past; it was just that he hadn’t been strong enough.