North American riot police: Start by arresting P. Diddy!

Chapter 121 You write God, I play the god of death (ask for monthly ticket)
The heavy eyelids slowly opened, and the dazzling white light of the surgical lamp instantly pierced into the pupils.

I could hear the clashing of metal instruments and the laughter of several men.

"God, this guy's bleeding like a punctured wine barrel."

"Just stuff his intestines in there. It's okay. Just pour it in. It will heal on its own anyway."

"Suture thread! Hurry up! Not the kind you use for embroidery, but the kind you can tie up a rhino!"

"The bullet went through the stomach, pancreas, and even hit the left kidney. I wonder if this Mr. Rorschach used to be a circus performer practicing swallowing. He's still alive!"

"Record: Five bullets, six fragments, three shirt buttons. His stomach is a walking hardware store."

"Hahaha"

What the hell? !
Rorschach couldn't help but curse inwardly. Where did Harold hire this doctor?
A black market slaughterhouse?

Why is your mouth full of rhymes?

The next second, he suddenly remembered something.

If I were undergoing surgery now, I should be under anesthesia. How could I suddenly wake up?

As soon as this thought came to mind, excruciating pain surged from all over my body.

This pain far exceeded the sum of all his previous injuries, and it was so painful that he hunched over on the operating table.
"Fake!!!"

This roar instantly scared the doctors who were still chatting to relieve boredom while performing the operation.

The operating room was suddenly in chaos.

"Watfuck? How could he wake up?!"

"No anesthesia?"

"Yes, I used twice the usual amount!"

".Damn, this guy's physique is a fucking freak! Give him another dose of anesthesia! Use five times the dosage!"

"."

Soon, accompanied by the sound of the syringe, Rorschach's face, which was distorted by pain, slowly calmed down.

The moment he closed his eyes, he carefully glanced at the three doctors wearing masks. If possible, if he could find them in the future, he would definitely beat them up!
Damn it, even the anesthetic is used incorrectly!

I don’t know how long it took, but when he woke up again, he could no longer see the glaring light of the operating table.

Warm sunshine, salty sea breeze, and the familiar barking of dogs in my ears.

Rorschach raised the corner of his mouth slightly. It seemed that Harold had promised him and would bring Brian back.

He struggled to open his eyes and found himself lying in a panoramic glass sunroom.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, there is an endless blue sea, and the salty sea breeze blows through the half-open windows.

It seems to be on a yacht.

Looking down, he was wrapped in bandages from neck to ankles like a mummy.

Rorschach smiled bitterly. This time the injury was more serious than the helicopter explosion.

But there was no other way. In that environment, facing the HRT team's watertight tactical formation, he could only exchange his injuries for his life and use close combat to break the opponent's firepower advantage.

Otherwise, you will be worn out by the opponent.

Hearing the barking of dogs outside, Rorschach turned his head and looked around.

When he saw two crutches leaning against the wall, he took a deep breath and forced himself to stand up, as his body was in pain when he moved.

on the deck.

Harold curled up in the corner, looking cautiously at the big white dog in front of him that was wagging its tail happily.

He threw the dog food in his hand one by one into the distance, but Brian always jumped up nimbly and caught each one accurately.

"Good boy, really good boy."

Harold laughed dryly, but his eyes never left the bloody mouth.

However, looking at the big dog's clever and lively appearance, Harold actually wanted to bend down and rub its head.

But looking at Brian's head that was bigger than his own and his body that was taller than him when standing upright, he couldn't muster up the courage.

Suddenly, Brian's ears perked up.

It turned around suddenly, its tail wagging rapidly, and rushed towards the spiral staircase like a white lightning.

Harold looked up and saw Rorschach leaning on crutches, looking at him with a half-smile.

"You never told me before that you were afraid of dogs."

"Uh, just a little bit. Just a little bit."

Harold pulled the corner of his mouth awkwardly and hid the dog food in his hand that he had originally prepared to play with Brian.

After a while.

Rorschach leaned back on the deck chair, gently stroking Brian's head with his hand, and turned to look around at the surrounding environment.

They were now on the sea, and this yacht was completely different from the one that had picked him up at the dock. Not only was it several times more luxurious, it was even equipped with a small helicopter landing platform on the deck.

"The previous one was too obvious, so I left it at the dock."

Harold explained softly, "This Feadship is currently registered to a shell company in Monaco and is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. No one will suspect you of being involved in it. Furthermore, I've used [machines] to block all scanning signals in this area."

Rorschach nodded slightly. He gently stroked the head of the dog lying beside him and asked curiously, "So, are you an invisible super-rich man?"

Harold raised his eyebrows when he heard this and said jokingly, "It's okay. I just invested in dozens of technology companies before the Internet bubble."

".OK."

Rorschach understood that this unprepossessing fellow in front of him must be richer than anyone he had ever met.

The sea breeze blew by, and Brian sneezed comfortably.

"Are you really okay with your injuries?" Harold suddenly asked with a strange look on his face. "Your intestines were all spilling out, and your whole body was bleeding. The doctor said you would need at least a month to recuperate before you could get out of bed. But now..."

It’s only now that it’s over?
It was probably less than twenty hours before Rorschach was able to move around on crutches.

Harold looked at Rorschach's body in confusion. The man's flesh and blood seemed to be made of steel.

"I remembered it when you mentioned that."

Rorschach's face darkened upon hearing this: "Where did you find those doctors? Holy crap, they even got the anesthesia dosage wrong and nearly killed me on the operating table!"

Harold's mouth dropped open in shock. He scratched his head and replied in disbelief, "They were taken off the ship right after the surgery that night. That's impossible. I remember these doctors were very skilled. They were experts I hired from a hotel. The consultation fee alone cost a full three million."

"A doctor hired from the hotel? And it cost three million?!"

Rorschach fell silent.

Although he had just woken up, he felt as if he had traveled to Korea. People here always spoke in millions.
"I came across that hotel when I was looking for a killer to avenge my friend. They say it specializes in serving killers and wealthy individuals. Just getting a membership cost me 20 million."

Harold explained, "Ordinary doctors wouldn't even dare to board the ship, let alone operate on you. They're the only ones who would dare to operate on you, a terrorist who just assassinated the Speaker, just for the money."

"hotel?"

Rorschach frowned slightly, but didn't care too much.

At most, it's just a killer organization, which is not that surprising.

"Harold." He looked him straight in the eye and said straight to the point, "What do you want me to do for you? Murder or revenge?"

"I"

"Don't be in denial."

Rorschach raised his hand to interrupt, saying sternly, "First, you helped me cover my tracks when I was in trouble, and then you helped me retreat when I was dying. Don't talk nonsense about how you don't ask anything of me."

"So no matter who your target of revenge is, even if he lives in the White House, I will do my best to help him. This is my promise, and it is also my reward for your many assistances."

Harold looked stunned.

He did have a reason for saving Rorschach, but it wasn't to get him to help him kill someone.

He frowned and pondered for a moment, then organized his words and spoke slowly: "Rorschach, do you remember when I told you I left a 'backdoor' in the [machine]?"

"Hmm?" Rorschach looked at him.

Harold continued, "The Federation uses [machines] to predict terrorist attacks and target national security threats. But as the creator, my 'terminal backdoor' can also generate numbers and targets."

After a quick thought, Rorschach couldn't help but ask, "You don't want me to join you in counter-terrorism work, do you? Then I can only say sorry, man, you overestimate my moral standards."

"What about ordinary people?"

Harold suddenly asked back, "I know you hate politicians and the powerful, so I didn't expect you to save them."

"I left a backdoor in the [machine], and it won't provide any information about terrorists. Every two or three days, it will push a simple social security number, and the owners of these numbers will be threatened with death within the next 72 hours! They include loving couples, ordinary students, hardworking immigrants, and even children!"

"Knowing that these innocent people were about to die tragically, could you just stand by and watch?"

He stared into Rorschach's eyes, trying to see a hint of hesitation in them.

However, Rorschach remained calm, and even raised the corners of his mouth slightly.

"Brother"

Rorschach looked at the idealist in front of him and smiled helplessly: "I admire your skills and your character. But to be honest, if it were half a year ago, I might have agreed to you. But now..."

He shook his head slightly, his tone calm: "This is a world where the strong prey on the weak, and only the fittest survive. Just like you once said, it's like the law of nature. You and I can't save everyone."

"But didn't I just save you?!"

Harold looked directly at Rorschach and said seriously, "Do you know why I came to Washington? Besides wanting to invite you, the main reason is that the backdoor of my [machine] spit out your number. She predicted that you would die within a week. I came to save you, and you are the first number I saved personally."

Rorschach was silent.

To be honest, he was indeed prepared to die when he came to Washington.

Where would he be now if Harold hadn't picked him up?

He was probably hiding in some dark corner, performing surgery on himself with crude tools, and eventually died from excessive blood loss or wound infection.

"Actually, I communicated with the [machine] more than once before coming here."

Harold sighed softly. "She thinks you're extremely dangerous and unfit for rescue. But I've studied all your files, including your police record. While you have shortcomings like a bad temper, erratic moral standards, and certain prejudices, I see more strengths. The most important point is that you despise money and adhere to an unbreakable moral bottom line."

"Rorschach."

He looked at the other person sincerely. "I can't save so many numbers by myself. I need someone like you who has both strong action and moral integrity to help me. This may sound mean, but if you ask me what I want in return—this is what I want."

"I don't want you to help me kill people, I want you to help me save people."

Rorschach looked quietly at the seagulls circling in the sky for a long time without saying a word.

According to the original plan, after he recovered from his injury and helped Harold solve his problems, he would set off for East Africa.

But now.
"One month trial period."

He suddenly turned to Harold and said, "In this month, if I feel that it is not suitable or we are not getting along well, I will..."

"Okay, okay, just a one-month trial period!"

Before he could finish, Harold eagerly agreed.

The nerd had a geeky smile on his face, as if he was certain that Rorschach would stay in a month.

"Ha ha."

Rorschach shook his head and laughed, then asked with interest, "So our mission is to run around the world and rescue those numbers that have been spit out?"

Harold pushed up his glasses and explained, "For now, I've limited the [Machine's] number range to New York. This city of tens of millions is more than enough for us to work with. This way, even if it's just the two of us, we can focus on saving those who have been sentenced to death by the [Machine]."

New York?

Rorschach seemed to have thought of something, and the corners of his mouth rose slightly.

"I understand. The [machine] you built is responsible for predicting those who are about to die, and I am responsible for killing those who want to kill them."

"Well, actually, we can choose to report it to the police anonymously after we catch the murderer."

Harold touched his nose, but did not directly refute.

After all, the person standing in front of him is the "killer" wanted by law enforcement agencies across the United States.

"It's settled then. One month!"

Rorschach suddenly extended his hand, a playful smile on his lips: "You write God, and I will play the Grim Reaper."

Harold smiled shyly. "Actually, the [machine] isn't as omnipotent as God, though."

He held Rorschach's hand tightly, his eyes behind the lenses flashing with excitement: "I wish us a pleasant cooperation!"

"It's a pleasure working with you." Rorschach shook his hand back vigorously.

After successfully recruiting Rorschach, Harold pursed his lips in excitement and limped to the cabin to get the high-end champagne he had collected at the auction to celebrate.

Looking at his limping back, the smile on Rorschach's face gradually faded.

Harold is definitely a good guy.

There is no doubt about this, he is a kind-hearted idealist.

But the machine.
This super AI that can monitor the entire United States and analyze and predict anyone's behavior is undoubtedly a weapon more terrifying than a nuclear bomb!

Rorschach will not take the Machine from Harold, but he plans to use this powerful tool to do something he has always wanted to do.

(End of this chapter)