I Am Gwen's Spider-Man Mentor

Chapter 49 The Punisher
After the police officer returned the document to the old man, the old man hugged his document tightly as if he had regained his love, and he thanked the policeman repeatedly: "Mr. important."

The policeman glanced helplessly in the direction Gwen was leaving. He couldn't catch up with the ghostly Spider-Man who could swing between tall buildings.In fact, unlike many of his sidekicks, he himself has a more open and admiring attitude towards Spider-Woman.

As long as they are serious policemen, they will find that Gwen Stacy's superhero behavior effectively deters crimes and greatly reduces the risk of their work-but in the current New York, and even in the entire In the United States, conscientious police officers are as rare as bureaucrats who don't take political contributions.

"You should thank Ms. Spider." The policeman finally didn't take the credit for himself, "She finished most of the work before I arrived, I just arrested the criminals according to the procedure and... adopted flexibility within the existing system It's just a gesture to return the lost property in advance, Mr. Stewart."

Hearing this, the old man looked up at the narrow sky among the tall buildings in New York and sighed: "I know she's fine, but superheroes can't help..."

The police could only shake their heads helplessly when they heard the words, and set aside the old man's sighs. For ordinary people like them, Gwen Stacy had already helped enough.And more, it should be the affairs of those in power and successful people. They also know that the "good neighbor" can't do much.

But when it comes to successful people—as many successful people as there are in New York, there are losers multiplied by a hundred times or even a thousand times, and every loser has a novel with twists and turns that is enough to write a novel of 200 million words. s story.

The police also knew very well that the old man with gray hair, casual clothes, and a sad complexion was not a so-called "loser"; in fact, even a high-ranking NYPD director had to carefully apologize when standing in front of this old man.

The mind of this NYPD patrolman, who has read countless old people, is very clear. He is very clear that the reason why the NYPD group of rice bugs will do special things for him is entirely because of the lofty prestige and appeal he enjoys in the entire United States; If it was ten years ago, he might have been complacent about it, and even considered using it as an episode or burden in the program; but now, he only feels that these other people's tireless pursuit of lifelong things is in line with the documents in his hands. Than, it's just a cloud of smoke.

"Mr. Police Officer, I still have urgent business to visit some old friends. I'm afraid I can't go back with you to take notes. If you don't mind, you can come to this place with your colleagues to find me tonight. Before entering the door, put the paper Show the note to the security guard, and someone will take you to my office, the whole branch is fine."

The old man scribbled a string of words on the small note and signed it again. He stuffed the note into the hands of the police officer who had just sent a criminal into the back seat of the police car and didn't realize the situation for a while, and then rushed to the police to order Nodding, he held the documents in his hand tightly, hails a taxi and walks away.

It wasn't until the taxi disappeared at the corner of the traffic light that the two policemen realized what the old man had just stuffed into themselves, and they were so excited that they almost closed their eyes and closed their breath.

Fortunately, another police car arrived in time to support the ecstatic two people who had someone to confide in, which prevented the Bugle Daily from publishing "Shocked!Two NYPD inspectors were exploited and passed out on the streets of New York," the front-page banner.

The policeman who had previously received the old man's note pushed another criminal into the back seat of the police car, opened the door next to the driver's seat and got in the car. While driving the car, he read Miranda in a expressionless manner warn.

After the chanting was finished and the car started, the policeman asked in a bad tone:

"Name!"

"Richard." The criminal sitting in the back seat with his hands handcuffed answered helplessly in a low voice.

"Speak up, haven't you had enough to eat?" The police reprimanded rather dissatisfied, "Why rob?"

"Richard Brown! I don't have money for medicine, so..."

"What kind of medicine?" The policeman hit the car and asked casually, but after a while, he realized that he didn't get an answer. These days, being a policeman in NYPD requires a sense of smell that is more or less superior to ordinary people.The police officer sneered and asked, "Is it illegal drugs?"

The back seat still didn't answer, apparently acquiescing to this answer.

"Talk this matter back to the bureau, occupation?." The policeman turned on the left turn signal and started off. After he asked this question, he glanced at the man in the back seat through the rearview mirror, only to find that the man suddenly stopped after hearing what he said. He buried his head, almost between his legs.

"Professional!" The police officer raised his voice, and he instinctively tried to catch all possible doubts.

The man in the back seat couldn't sit still, even the police officer who had been silent just now couldn't help but use a little more force to hold the man's arm.

The man ate the pain and squeezed out a few words with the sound of a mosquito humming: "Unemployed, ex-firefighter."

"Unemployed, the former is a firefighter, Ambrose." The policeman in the back seat answered loudly to the colleague driving in the front seat.

The police officer named Ambrose was a little surprised. He stepped on the accelerator and accelerated from the side road to the main road. By the way, he asked, "Firefighters? How did your fire department mess up the employees like this?"

The man ignored the eyeing policemen beside him, but lowered his head even more, as if he was recalling his beautiful past.

After a while, he managed to squeeze out another word: "2001..."

Firefighter, 2001, Unemployed…

Those three words were enough for Ambrose and his colleagues to piece together what happened to the man.He and his colleagues sighed at the same time, and the original distaste for the criminal disappeared.

It wasn't until the car returned to the gate of the 15th branch that Ambrose squeezed out two words to break the suffocating silence in the car:

"Thanks...and...sorry..."

----split line----

It was completely dark when Richard Brown and his friend came out of the police station, supporting each other.The former fireman looked sadly at the long line of cars in front of the police station, and sighed inexplicably.

He had a car back then, and it was a good car, a pickup as reliable as they were back then!

"Boss, it's my fault, I've hurt you." The companion supporting him whispered.He knew that this was his own business, but he involved the captain, let him accompany him into the case, and paid an extra bail to get out.

After the captain's wife and children abandoned him, he also had an unsatisfactory life. This time, a disaster from heaven...

"It's all my fault." The subordinate blamed himself even more.

"It's okay, our group, the old guys have all left one by one, there are only a few of us left, that's all we can do to help each other." Richard shook his head and stopped the old subordinates from feeling sorry for themselves.

"But this time I didn't get any money, what about our medicine? You still said that you will see your daughter next week..."

Hearing this, Richard lowered his head. The figure of his daughter and the coldness and determination of his ex-wife's ultimatum made his heart hurt every time he recalled it.After a long while, the former tough guy sighed and said: "I am in this state now, it is better not to see her, to make her think that my father is still dead."

"Boss..." His subordinates couldn't bear to hear the words. He pondered for about three or four seconds and tentatively said, "If...you want to make money, I still have a way."

"Stop robbing and stealing cars and picking locks." Richard shook his head, "We can't do this job."

"This time it was an accident!" The subordinates were a little annoyed, "If it wasn't for that damned Spider-woman, we would have succeeded, that damned little girl!"

"Hey!" Richard turned his head and emphasized to his subordinates that the former fire chief still had some sense of justice: "Although we don't have the money to do some unscrupulous jobs to make a living, even if she catches We, Spider-Woman, are not wrong, you know, she is not wrong!"

"Where was she when we rushed into the burning building to save people?"

Richard shook his head. He knew he couldn't go any further on this issue, so the former fire chief changed the subject: "You just said you still have a way to make money?"

"Wharf, there is a gang at the dock that is recruiting people recently. They don't have any conditions. It seems that they can transport some medicine for them." The subordinates didn't care about Gwen's problem and the captain who just accompanied him to the shop. Out of anger, he just shared the news he knew frankly.

"Drugs? Do you mean illegal drugs?" Richard snorted at this. "We just got out of the bureau, sober up, don't trouble them."

"It's said that they are also involved, they don't care about it, and the boss, do you know—" The subordinate pretended to be mysterious and close to his captain's ear:

"Legends say that this is the business of Wilson Fisk, a bigwig in New York, also known as Jin Bin."

"Is the news stable?" Richard frowned, and he looked at his subordinates with deep eyes—if he hadn't been forced into a corner by the world, the proud fire chief would never have been reduced to being with gangsters.

The subordinate nodded, confirming his message.

After the two former firefighters supported each other and slowly left along the street, a 1.9-meter-tall black-haired and strong man turned around and came out from the street corner.The man calmly watched the two former firefighters leave.

After a long while, the man who seemed like a statue without emotion finally sighed.

"Choose the law, and you still have a chance."

The man shook his head, put his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, and left only one sentence when he turned to leave:

"But if you choose to commit crimes, there is only one way forward for you."

The dim light in the night seemed to be swept away by the leaving man, and it became even darker.

(End of this chapter)