After putting on a snug bulletproof vest, Clyde grumbled as he pulled on a janitor's uniform and pants. He grabbed the prepared ID badge, stuck on a fake mustache, and put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Standing before a mirror, he ensured his appearance was completely different from his usual clean-shaven self, finally nodding in satisfaction.
He then inspected the corpses and devices delivered in the middle of the night and used a special email account to send his company's Panama-based records to Nick Reese.
Finally, Clyde stood deep in thought for a long time before giving up on sending a warning email to Tobin Foster. This hesitation annoyed William, who had been keeping an eye on him, but such caution was the mark of a professional.
Clyde grabbed a vacuum cleaner rigged with hidden mechanisms and walked out of the warehouse through a tunnel, leaving in a van.
He drove to City Hall, parked, and pushed a janitorial cart inside. Greeting the security guards he'd known for years, he casually glanced at the heavily armed SWAT officers before asking in a low voice, "What's going on?"
"There's a meeting upstairs. All the department heads are here today, so you know how it is," one guard whispered back cautiously.
Two years ago, Clyde had registered a cleaning company and secured a contract for City Hall by bidding at a loss. Although he rarely came himself, over time, it had been impossible not to get acquainted with the guards.
At the security checkpoint, Clyde chatted casually with the guards while undergoing screening and a search by the SWAT team. He then pushed his cart into an elevator and headed to the fifth floor, where he started cleaning room by room.
As he cleaned, Clyde discreetly placed pre-assembled bomb components in various rooms. Within ten minutes, he reached the fifth-floor conference room, unlocked the door, locked it again behind him, and quickly began assembling the components. Finally, he poured six solid fuel bombs out of the vacuum cleaner's hose.
In under five minutes, he had constructed a simple yet highly destructive explosive device. He glanced up at the conference room ceiling, as if he could see the department heads meeting one floor above.
Clyde casually slid the bomb under a table, then pushed his cart outside the conference room. He placed a blue plastic bottle on the cart and left it parked just outside the door.
As he walked toward the utility room, his phone began to beep. The alert informed him that someone had breached the warehouse tunnel outside the prison. Clyde immediately knew it was Nick Reese, who had traced the email back to the warehouse and tunnel.
The thought made Clyde smile. Nick Reese wasn't completely useless after all; his elaborate plans hadn't gone to waste.
Silently calculating the clues he had left in the basement and the time it would take to drive from the prison to City Hall, Clyde quickened his pace. He entered the utility room, poured blue dye into the sprinkler system's reservoir, and hid a small device in a pile of rags used for cleaning tables.
Satisfied with his work, Clyde muttered to himself, "Heh, if the reporters see all of New York's department heads running out of City Hall covered in blue an hour from now, it'll be a sight to remember."
With that done, Clyde walked to the main entrance and told the security guard, "I'm out of cleaning supplies. I'll go grab some from my van."
Before the guard could respond, the SWAT team leader interrupted, "Hold on. You're done for the day. Come back tomorrow to finish the rest."
"Getting off early? No complaints here," Clyde replied with a cheerful smile. "But, buddy, don't dock my pay over this."
"Don't worry. With so many witnesses here, I guarantee your boss won't deduct a penny," the SWAT leader replied perfunctorily.
"Ha! That's good to hear," Clyde said, pretending to be relieved. "If I get off now, I might even make it home in time for the game. See you, guys!"
Leaving City Hall, Clyde climbed into his van and sat in the driver's seat, quietly reviewing every detail of his escape plan.
Initially, Clyde had planned to kill all of Nick Reese's colleagues—not just for revenge but to stoke Nick's hatred. Watching his team and superiors die one by one, Nick would undoubtedly conclude that Clyde had lost his mind.
Fear, hatred, and concern for his own safety and that of his loved ones would drive Nick to retrieve the bomb from the conference room and return it to the isolation cell, effectively forcing Clyde to blow himself up.
At that moment, the body Clyde had prepared in the basement would come into play. Once the fuel bomb detonated, not even steel would remain intact, let alone a body. This would allow Clyde to disappear without a trace.
However, William's meddling had complicated things. A bomb detector had thwarted Clyde's plan to eliminate Nick's colleagues, leaving him uncertain whether Nick would follow the intended steps.
Fortunately, Clyde had a backup plan: to force Nick to kill him.
Clyde pulled out a never-before-used phone, inserted a fresh SIM card, and sent a text to a certain number: "Take care of Nick Reese's assistant, Sarah Lowell, and the forensic examiner who falsified testimony ten years ago."
Two minutes later, he received a reply: "OK." Another message followed a few seconds later: "Clyde, are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Reading the message, Clyde smirked and typed, "Don't worry. Once Sarah Lowell and that examiner are dead, my revenge will be complete. So relax—I'm not crazy enough to kill all of New York's department heads.
"Instead of leaving dozens of families grieving, it's better to humiliate those at the top so badly that they can't show their faces. Political scandals are far more impactful than mere panic."
"Alright, as long as you're not insane. Let's meet in Cape Town, South Africa, when it's over."
"OK."
Clyde put the phone away, feeling pleased. He planned to get plastic surgery, acquire a formal identity in a small country, and eventually immigrate. With a new identity, he could once again walk freely in the sunlight.
After waiting for about ten minutes, Nick finally arrived at City Hall with two marshals. Clyde turned his key, started the van, and put on the earpiece connected to the bomb's listening device. He was ready to leave.
Unfortunately, despite his careful planning, he failed to notice that a car had been tailing him since he left the prison area.
As Clyde parked and crossed the street to City Hall, the man in the passenger seat of the trailing car lowered his binoculars and said, "It's him."
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Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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