"Earlier tonight, there was an explosion on the commercial street of the Metropolitan University. Thanks to the new Superman who rushed to the scene to help control the disaster, all the wounded were sent to the hospital as quickly as possible, but fortunately no one died. Relevant departments have attached great importance to this matter, and there is a high probability that this is a terrorist attack accident, and the police have not disclosed any relevant clues so far..."
Mike opened his eyes feebly, and it was the first time he had heard this news. At this moment, he was lying on a soft hospital bed with bandages all over his body, and the noise in the aisle outside the door was so noisy that it sounded like there was a vegetable market next door.
He picked himself up a little when Jay pushed the door open, sat down on the head of the bed, and forced a smile: "Hi. Although I've never had a chance to look in the mirror, I guess I'm now The image certainly doesn't look that great."
"A little more confident, buddy." Jay reassured him as he closed the door with his backhand. "You don't look bad."
"So how's Jessie?" Mike asked impatiently as soon as he sat down. "Is she all right?"
"She's fine." Not only was this unfounded consolation, the girl was rescued by Jay himself from under the dining table stuck in the broken stone wall, and he was sure the girl was okay.
"That's good." Mike breathed a sigh of relief, like a big rock in his heart, and then asked without any hope, "Then...my car...?"
"Uh...that one doesn't seem to help," Jay said apologetically. When he arrived at the scene, there was almost a mess near the restaurant, and the vehicles parked a little closer were blown up beyond recognition, especially Mike's gray sports car. It was almost completely disintegrated. The farthest door was blasted more than 40 meters away and embedded in the stone wall of a building on the street. The seat was torn in half by the waist. The charred shell and broken Parts are scattered all over the floor, and even the best repairman will never be able to restore it.
Mike grimaced: "Well, it looks like my dad is really mad this time."
Jay had previously been a little concerned that he might be hit by the sudden terrorist attack that interrupted his carefully planned first date, but he seemed to be overthinking it, which was one of the great things about his roommate.
"By the way," Mike suddenly remembered something, "Shouldn't you be going home today?"
"I live in Metropolis, and I can go back any day I want." Jay sat on the chair beside his bed, "I heard about you and thought you might want to see a familiar face. So I might Two more days."
"Thanks, but I'm fine here," Mike said, after a pause. "Well, maybe except for the pain, the lack of energy, and the daily drips. At least there's a TV in the ward, and it's not that bad. It's too boring. Didn't you plan to travel to Petwa with your family these two days? There's no need to change the schedule for me, I'm very happy here, and I can procrastinate for two more days without going back and listening to my mother's nagging."
Jay glanced at the bandaged guy with a complicated look, and couldn't help feeling that this guy wasn't that careless in everything.
Mike said that, but he was inevitably bored after Jay left. He said that it's not fake to watch on TV, but almost all the channels are replaying his accident over and over again, and it's only disturbing to watch. So he started to think wildly, thinking about whether Jessie would still be willing to date him after this terrible change on the first date, whether his mother would now know the news and rush to the Metropolis in a hurry, and how would Dad be because of him. How angry was he about the accident that happened when he sneaked out of his car.
Thinking of this, he suddenly realized a question - why has it been so long since the explosion, the father, who is obviously in the metropolis, hasn't appeared at the door of the ward?
Mike has not dealt with his father very much since he can remember. His father has always been very strict with him, but he just likes to fight against his father. When his father told him to go east, he went west. When his father told him to sit down, he decided to stand. In his own words, the bad old man seemed to be forever dissatisfied with him, in everything. And the more dissatisfied the other party is, the more rebellious he becomes, and eventually a vicious circle is formed, and the relationship between father and son is getting worse and worse like a smoothly descending curve.
But no matter how rebellious he was in the past, the troubles that he caused can only be regarded as petty troubles at best, and they are nothing compared to the consequences of today's troubles. Since his father has not yet appeared at the door of the ward, he has to start to wonder if the other party is finally so angry that he wants to give up on him completely.
His distraction was interrupted when the ward door was gently pushed open, and two men in neat suits entered the ward, looking like they had stepped out of a spy movie. They were standing by his bed in a standard posture, and Mike raised his eyebrows suspiciously. "Uh, gentlemen? Is there anything I can do to help?"
One of the men skillfully showed his ID card from the inside of his shirt, which had the words "FBI" in large letters and a badge with intricate patterns. Mike sucked in a breath, but he didn't expect it to be the unfolding of a spy war movie.
"Mr. Mike Marcus?" the man asked.
"it's me."
"We have some questions for you about the bombing earlier today."
Oh, it turned out to be a confession. This seems to be a matter of course, Mike was one of the closest victims to the scene, and having FBI agents to interrogate the statement should have been an essential step.
"Just ask." Mike lay back on the bed limply. "Ask for as long as you want. Anyway, I have time now, and I just have nothing to do."
"No, Mr. Marcus," the agent said. "Not here. I need you to come with us."
"Huh?" Mike suspected he had heard it wrong.
The two detectives looked at each other and exchanged glances, and then the man in front said again: "This is the case. Our relevant experts have completed the forensics of the explosion site. According to their analysis of the explosion site, it seems that the source of the explosion was your driving force. the car."
Mike opened his mouth in surprise: "Wait a minute, are you saying, I'm the suspect in the bombing case?"
The two detectives looked at him blankly and did not answer.
"You know how ridiculous that sounds right? You see, I'm still a college student, right across from the university! Where do I look like a bomber?"
"First Evolution"
"No bomber looks like a bomber, sir," the detective said, "and we're not sure that you are the bomber, just based on the clues we have so far, we're just doing an essential part of the investigation, please You were very cooperative, otherwise we would have had to resort to tougher measures."
Mike was helpless, but he suddenly remembered something: "By the way, that's my dad's car, have you talked to him?"
"Of course we went to Mr. Marcus, but that's where the other problem lies." The detective sighed softly and said, "Your father... Mr. Marcus is missing. , no one knows where he is."
Mike was instantly petrified.
For the first time in his life, he felt that he might really be helpless now.