The hospital stood cordoned off under the glare of evening floodlights. Police cars lined the perimeter, SWAT officers standing guard with weapons at the ready. A swarm of reporters pressed against the barricades, cameras flashing like strobes. The Director of the Queens Police Department basked in the spotlight, his face glowing with barely concealed ambition. To anyone watching, it was clear he saw this as his golden ticket to promotion.
In a quiet hotel room, Hong Fei sat alone, his right arm encased in a cast and slung across his chest. The injury was a ruse, of course. A hundred Captain Boomerangs couldn't have laid a finger on him, but he needed the downtime. One Captain Boomerang wasn't enough to test his limits; he needed more players for his game.
First, he needed to gauge how much the fused ten percent of the "Power of Hong" had amplified his strength compared to before. Second, he aimed to farm skill cards, upgrade his current arsenal, and streamline the complexity of his abilities. Captain Boomerang lay comatose in the hospital, his body alive but his mind under Hong Fei's complete control. He wouldn't wake unless Hong Fei allowed it.
The passive skill card: Telepathy (Blue), derived from Samuel Sterns, granted abilities like telepathy, mental communication, and mind control. The upgraded Power of Hong had enhanced these effects exponentially, particularly the mind control aspect.
Hong Fei had completely suppressed Captain Boomerang's consciousness, rendering him a puppet who obeyed every command without question. The stolen items recovered from Captain Boomerang corroborated his identity as one of the four main culprits of the bank robbery.
Based on surveillance footage, the police found Captain Boomerang's clothes and equipment, confirming his criminal identity through testing. It was only the first day after the robbery, yet the Queens Police Department's reputation had skyrocketed overnight.
When Hong Fei and Cora delivered the unconscious Captain Boomerang to the station and identified him as one of the robbers, the precinct erupted into chaos. Officers of all ranks crowded around them, joined by civilians filing reports and even freshly arrested prisoners craning their necks to eavesdrop. The Director of the Queens division was so elated he nearly fainted.
Hong Fei had dislocated his own right arm as part of the act, and the Director seized his left arm, shaking it vigorously while showering him with praise. It was as if Hong Fei wasn't an intern but the Director's long-lost father.
The Director soon mobilized a third of the station's manpower to escort Captain Boomerang to the hospital. Before long, leaders from Police headquarters arrived. The Director of the Manhattan division wore a grim expression, and when he shook hands with the Queens Director, Hong Fei suspected he was fighting the urge to strangle him.
A knock on the hotel room door interrupted Hong Fei's thoughts. He opened it to find Officer Neil leading a group of five, each carrying gifts.
"How are you? Are you alright?" Neil asked.
"I'm fine," Hong Fei replied with a smile. "Just a fracture. I'll be better after resting for a while."
He stepped aside.
"Come in and sit."
The group filed in, placing their gifts on the coffee table but remaining standing.
Cora stepped forward and gave Hong Fei a light hug, her smile warm and sincere.
"Thank you. You saved my life."
"It's what I should do," Hong Fei said. "If I were the one in danger, I'm sure you would've done the same."
Sergeant Neil stepped up next, hugging Hong Fei and patting his back gently.
"Thank you," he murmured.
The others followed suit, each offering their gratitude before shifting to congratulations.
Cora smiled warmly. "You're in an excellent position now—there's no doubt you'll get the credit you deserve. You're the most impressive intern officer I've ever seen. Sure, we got lucky running into those robbers, but in the end, it was your skill that made the difference."
"If it had just been me," she continued, "the outcome would've been disastrous. Even without the ambush, I doubt I could've caught him."
Neil nodded in agreement.
"She's right. You're injured now, so focus on resting. I've arranged fifteen days of paid leave for you."
"When you come back," Neil added, "your internship will be over, and you'll be the fastest officer to get promoted in Queens—maybe even all of New York City." Hong Fei smiled.
"Thank you."
Neil clapped him on the shoulder.
"Get some rest. We're still investigating their hideout and aiming to bring in the other three as soon as possible. When you return, we'll be a full team of six!"
Hong Fei thanked them again and walked the group to the door. Closing it behind them, he sighed and slumped onto the sofa.
He knew he had a thick skin, but facing them still stirred a pang of guilt—not fear of being found out, but a twinge of remorse. They were destined to find nothing until he returned from leave. Just as he was about to sit down, another knock interrupted him.
Hong Fei opened the door and looked down at the slender figure standing there. He raised an eyebrow.
"Little George. Come on in."
The young man stepped inside, placing a fruit basket on the table before turning with a smile.
"Thank you."
"Thanking me?" Hong Fei asked. Little George gave a wry smile.
"Yeah. I was nearby during yesterday's robbery and got driven inside as a hostage. You caught one of the robbers today, so that counts as avenging me. And congratulations—you're the most amazing intern officer I've ever seen."
His voice carried an unmistakable note of envy.
Hong Fei gestured for him to sit.
"Thanks for coming to see me. Are you okay after yesterday?"
"I'm fine," Little George replied. "Just got punched by the robber leader. Still hurts a bit."
"Where did he hit you?"
"My chest."
"Let me see?"
Little George lifted his shirt, revealing a lean frame with ribs protruding. A large bruise marred his chest. Hong Fei's expression darkened. He knew he'd been careful, using precise force to take the man down without causing harm. Yet here was the evidence—a clear mark on Little George's frail body.
The young man lowered his shirt and sighed. "Honestly, I don't think he hit me that hard. I just couldn't take it. My body's too weak."
Hong Fei studied him for a moment before asking, "Why do you want to be a police officer?"
"Uh?"
"What's your reason?"
"Oh, that. My grandparents were officers, and so was my dad."
"Is that it?"
"Yeah. It's been my dream since I was a kid. My grandpa sacrificed his life, and so did my dad. I want to carry on their legacy—to be a good officer."
"If your family were officers, don't you have connections to help you get in?"
Little George hesitated.
"I do, but they're unwilling to help. And I don't blame them. They're doing it for my own good. My body's too thin and weak. I've never asked them for help. But I know that being able to work in internal affairs at the Queens Police Department is already them helping me a lot."
"Hmm," Hong Fei said thoughtfully. "Do you really want it that much?"
"Yes," Little George replied earnestly. "And don't laugh, but I still exercise and try to gain weight every day. My strength isn't great, but my endurance is decent—I can run five kilometers without stopping."
Hong Fei leaned back, considering the young man's words.
"But I know that being able to work in internal affairs at the Queens Police Department is already them helping me a lot."
"Then maybe you'd make a good long-distance runner."
"My legs are too short."
Hong Fei rubbed his temples, visibly frustrated. Little George chuckled and patted his shoulder.
"It's alright. I know the odds are slim, but I can't bring myself to give up. After all these years, I've grown used to pushing myself for this goal."
Hong Fei sighed, dropping his hand. He studied Little George's determined smile and felt a pang of realization. Some people struggle for what others take for granted. You never truly know where someone else starts—what seems easy to one might be a mountain to another.
Beyond those boundaries, imagination fails. The joys and sorrows of the world don't intersect; there's no vantage point from which to judge. Little George's body might be frail, but his will was ironclad. Hong Fei felt a flicker of admiration. Perhaps he'd make a fine assistant.
But that wasn't something to say aloud. After a while, Little George stood to leave, and Hong Fei walked him to the door. On the television, a reporter's voice filled the room.
"The capture of one of the four primary suspects in the recent robbery is directly tied to Queens' rigorous patrol system."
"This time, the officer who apprehended the suspect is an intern from the Queens Police Department. He first saved his colleague, then pursued the culprit for over two miles. After a life-and-death struggle with the dangerous criminal, he succeeded in subduing him—though not without sustaining a fractured arm."
"We'll reveal his identity in due time, but not yet. With three suspects still at large, we can't risk exposing our hero to retaliation."
"That's right. He may be an intern, but his performance has been exceptional. Prior to this incident, he had already earned enough credit to halve his internship period."
"Yes, his internship is nearing its end, and soon he'll join our finest officers in serving the citizens of Queens. No one would seek to diminish his achievements—a hero cannot be suppressed. Our hope is that the Queens Police Department continues to nurture such talent, ensuring the safety of Queens and all of New York City. That is our purpose, and the standard we uphold."
The Queens Police Director spoke with practiced eloquence, ostensibly praising the intern while subtly lauding the department—and by extension, himself. It was a familiar tactic. As long as he didn't encroach on Hong Fei's well-earned credit, he could spin the narrative however he pleased. The more he promoted the story, the better it served Hong Fei's interests.
Night fell. The black iron armor streaked across the sky, its trajectory fixed on the outskirts of Gotham City.