"Heh, didn't see that coming, did you?"
Charles smirked, his grin dripping with sleazy satisfaction. Hong Fei nodded slowly. Unexpected didn't begin to cover it. This was beyond anything he could have conjured up in his wildest nightmares. Barely thirty seconds had passed. How the hell had things spiraled into such a morally bankrupt mess?
"Told you, Sergeant Neil's a master," chimed in a Black Police Officer. The man's head was as bald as Nick Fury's, though his face carried a gentler demeanor. His lips, though, were comically thick—like two sausages dangling from his face.
"Lane, you're reading too much into it," Charles countered, shaking his head. Master? Hardly. Charles respected Neil's investigative skills, but the guy was a complete idiot when it came to relationships.
The third man, a middle-aged White guy with a receding hairline and a belly rivaling Sergeant Neil's, stood with his arms crossed. He squinted at Neil and Cora, lost in thought. Charles reached over and slapped his thigh.
"Jason, what's on your mind?"
Jason snapped out of his daze, glancing away. "Just thinking about what birthday gift to get my daughter."
Charles blinked in disbelief.
"Seriously? You haven't figured it out yet? I've had mine ready for weeks."
The others turned to stare, curiosity piqued.
Jason's eyes darted nervously.
"What did you guys get?"
"Can't tell you that," Charles teased. "But if your gift doesn't measure up, your daughter's ours."
As they launched into a lively debate, Hong Fei watched quietly, making a mental note to ask Arthur for help later. He didn't want to come off as cheap. Yet, as the conversation grew more animated and the atmosphere warmed, something felt off. Hong Fei couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that such cheerful moments often preceded something cold and brutal.
It was an omen. Shaking his head, he lit a cigarette and turned his thoughts inward. Taking down those three thugs had delivered the expected boost to his physical attributes right on schedule. Still, Hong Fei sensed he was just one thin layer away from breaking through the seal. At this rate, even if he tried ten thousand times, he'd never pierce that membrane. He needed something far more intense.
What pissed him off most was the method itself. It had been manageable before, but now it was driving him mad. What kind of cryptic nonsense was "face one's inner self and power"? Damn Odin. That old bastard knew exactly what he was doing. Thor had broken free in days, yet here Hong Fei was, still grasping at straws. Wasn't this just bullying an honest man?
Hong Fei was convinced Odin had built a backdoor into Thor's seal. No way he'd let his own son get beaten to death by his adopted sibling. If Odin had truly dared to do that, Hela would have been long gone, bond with Asgard or not. The only silver lining was that the seal was forcing the various powers within Hong Fei's body to merge. A portion of his energy had already transformed, though he wasn't sure if it was the "Power of Hong" he sought.
Without that, Hong Fei would have given up long ago. Still, even without internal energy, flight, or other abilities, his intelligence, techniques, moves, and gadgets made him a match for ninety percent of heroes and villains—Marvel or DC. Of course, a little extra power wouldn't hurt.
What was the prerequisite for a massive upgrade? It was big events. Whether good or bad, it had to be grand—something known to all or capable of spreading widespread panic. The principle was simple: go big or go home. If you've got a cannon, don't settle for a gun. If you can hit a bank, don't waste time on armored trucks. And if you're blowing up a building, don't skimp on explosives—plant enough to level the whole thing.
Hong Fei glanced at the elite police officers surrounding him and felt like he'd stumbled into an undercover operation. The only problem? The enemies he might face were no joke. Batman was lurking somewhere nearby, and that was just the start. The Flash—well, who knew if he'd catch wind of things all the way out in Missouri? And Superman? Last Hong Fei heard, he was still in New York. The thought made him sigh. Better to keep these guys busy with something else, or else...
He could already picture it: years from now, whenever someone mentioned the name Hong, they'd smirk and say, "Oh, you mean that unlucky guy who got taken down by Batman, The Flash, and Superman?" If his career ended before it even began, how was he supposed to survive in this line of work? The humiliation would be too much to bear. He'd probably end up joining the dark side—and this universe was already dark enough without his help. If he kept adding fuel to the fire, it would need a reboot sooner rather than later.
About ten minutes later, Sergeant Neil waved them over. The group returned to the scene, acting as if nothing had happened, as if the chaos of moments ago had been erased from memory. Sergeant Neil wore his usual indifferent smile.
"Charles, you and your team load the two survivors into the squad car and take them back. The rest of the station crew should be here soon. I'll stay behind, cordon off the scene, and see if we can find any clues on the dead guys."
Charles nodded.
"No problem, Officer."
Neil then turned to Hong Fei, his appreciation for the young man obvious.
"You did well tonight—calm under pressure, and you've got skills. Top marks for tonight's performance. I'll make sure your internship gets cut by at least half, and there's a bonus in it for you."
Hong Fei offered a reserved smile. "Thank you, Officer."
"Alright, you two continue your patrol. Leave this to me."
Hong Fei nodded and followed Cora, who was already walking away.
"Are we still driving our car?" Hong Fei asked. "The passenger side is pretty badly damaged."
Cora shook her head.
"No, but your driving skills are impressive. Why didn't you mention that earlier? It wasn't in your file."
"Honestly, it's nothing special," Hong Fei replied. Compared to his other abilities, driving wasn't worth mentioning. If he started listing all his talents, he'd never stop. Best to keep a low profile.
Cora patted his shoulder and grinned.
"Let's patrol on foot tonight. If you get tired, we'll find a spot to rest and take a cab back later—the station will cover it. Oh, and we're switching cars tomorrow. I'll request a brand-new Mustang or Camaro, V8 engine, plenty of power. You'll have to teach me how to launch it."
Hong Fei raised an eyebrow.
"You're a woman, and you want to learn how to drive like that?"
"No problem," Cora said, waving off his surprise. "But this car of ours? It's already old."
"It's new," Hong Fei countered.
"Wrong," Cora shot back. "You've driven it twice. That makes it old."
Hong Fei blinked. What a scummy remark. He'd learned something new today.
As they turned the corner, Cora tucked her hands into her belt, walking with a duck-footed swagger and a devious grin.
Hong Fei glanced at her.
"Does it taste great?"
Cora lifted her chin proudly and let out a huff.
"Hmph, that old guy never learns. He always says things that could piss someone off to death. Sooner or later, I'll show him what I'm made of!"
Hong Fei racked his brain, trying to figure out what charm Sergeant Neil—a pot-bellied, middle-aged man—had that could captivate someone like Cora. She was sharp-tongued, hot-tempered, and fiercely independent. What did she see in him? Could Sergeant Neil really be some kind of hidden master?
The night passed without incident, save for a call from Sergeant Neil summoning Hong Fei to the station at two the next afternoon for questioning. Probably wanted a statement about him plowing his car into those three guys. Pointless bureaucracy, but child's play for Master Hong. With his razor tongue and courtroom experience, he'd never lost a verbal spar.
After their shift, they caught a cab back to the precinct. When Hong Fei emerged from the locker room, Cora had already vanished. He stepped outside, thumb hovering over his ride-hail app, when a red convertible screeched to a halt inches from his toes.
The black top peeled back to reveal Constantine's sharp features. Had to admit—without that sleazy grin plastered across his face, the man's looks alone could make half the women in this city volunteer for martyrdom.
"Hop in!"
Constantine flourished a hand like a carnival barker.
"We're hitting somewhere classy tonight!"
Hong Fei eyed the passenger seat.
"Relax, fresh off the lot. Nobody's died in it yet."
"Ghosts? Demons? Monsters? Men—"
"Christ, no!"
Constantine's eye twitched.
"None of the above!"
Hong Fei slid in and slammed the door.
"Take me to my hotel."
"How the hell should I know where you're staying?"
"Then what's the point of you?"
The engine roared as they peeled out, acceleration pinning them to the seats.
"Where'd you get the cash for this?"
"Please. I've got savings."
"You took out a loan."
"Small one. Barely counts."
"Some bank actually approved you? Name names—I'll make sure to rob it later."
Constantine just grinned, shaking his wind-tossed hair like some shampoo commercial reject. Hong Fei cut through the theatrics, "Next time, don't pick me up at the precinct."
"Why not?"
"I'm a cop."
"I'm not a criminal."
Hong Fei didn't blink.
"You're not law-abiding either."
Silence settled between them until the hotel's awning came into view. In the elevator, Constantine couldn't resist, "You're drawing a salary now, right? Why still live in a hotel? This place looks pricey."
"I don't like renting."
"Then buy."
"Short on funds."
"And yet here you are, blowing cash on daily rates?"
"I don't like renting."
"..."
The suite sprawled before them—tasteful minimalist decor, floor-to-ceiling windows, space enough for a small militia. Constantine gaped. Try as he might, he couldn't crack Hong Fei's logic. Terrifying.
"Sit. Before you start yapping, I've got a job for you."
"What kind?"
Hong Fei tossed a stack of photos onto the coffee table. Constantine snatched them up, squinted, and delivered his verdict, "Not much to look at."
"Make her life difficult."
Constantine tossed them back.
"I don't hurt people."
"Not hurt. Harass. She's in Louisiana—keep her from returning to D.C. for seven days."
Constantine batted his lashes.
"How? Her legs, her choice."
Hong Fei reclined, arms crossed.
"Not my problem. Your task."
It's also possible she wouldn't have returned in the next seven days anyway, in which case you'll pocket twenty grand for breathing.
Constantine shook his head.
"Seriously, no clue how to pull that off."
Hong Fei's laugh was drier than a desert wind.
Constantine studied Hong Fei's face, searching for any hint of deception. Finding none, he hesitated before reaching out to place his hand on the photos.
"Then you owe me a favor," he said cautiously.
Hong Fei snorted.
"Fifty thousand. That's two and a half times our minimum price."
Constantine yanked his hand back.
"This isn't about money."
"Eighty thousand," Hong Fei countered without missing a beat.
Constantine's face twitched a few times, but he still shook his head.
"One hundred thousand."
"Are you insulting me?"
Constantine's eyes widened, incredulous that Hong Fei would push things this far.
"One hundred and fifty thousand. Final offer. If I hear one more word of refusal, I'll find someone else."
"Leave it to me!" Constantine snapped.