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

Chapter 78 Do you want to know Rorschach's story? (Please read and vote)

"Click——"

Fox River Prison.

The heavy steel door slowly rose up driven by the hydraulic device, making a harsh sound of metal friction.

The prison van drove in slowly, its tires rolling over the speed bumps, and there was a dull vibration inside the car.

Every time I came to this prison in the past, the prison van was full of criminals who had committed various evil deeds, but this time, there was only one person sitting in the prison van.

The rest were all armed FBI agents and marshals. They gripped their pistols tightly at their waists and stared vigilantly at Rorschach, who had his eyes closed.

The prison van passed the first gate, and the heavy explosion-proof door slammed shut behind it.

Then the second and third
Each door is made of concrete and steel, thick enough to withstand the impact of rockets.

The high walls were covered with electric grids, and at the edges, iron spikes extended outward like the fangs of wild beasts.

In addition, there are several watchtowers around the prison.

The prison guards guarding the door above all carried semi-automatic rifles with the muzzles slightly lowered, ready to deal with any emergency at any time.

The camera in the corner rotated silently, monitoring the steel cage from 360 degrees without any blind spots.

This is Fox River Prison, the most heavily guarded isolated island in the eastern United States!
Because it was not yet time for exercise, the playground was empty.

The prison guards were stationed every three steps and every five steps there was a sentry. When they saw the prison van coming in, they looked at each other and all showed meaningful smiles.

The car stopped.

Rorschach slowly opened his eyes, scanned the cold and solemn surroundings, and gently moved his neck.

Outside the car, a team of prison guards had been waiting for a long time.

The short and sturdy man in the lead had a face full of flesh. When he saw Rorschach getting out of the car in handcuffs, he showed a gloating grin on his face.

After a simple handover ceremony, Rorschach was taken to a registration room.

He took off his clothes and threw them into the plastic box. Now he had nothing except this skin.

But just as he was about to change into the orange prison uniform, a fat hand suddenly pressed down on the clothes.

"Rorschach," the short and stocky head prison guard sneered, "How come you don't even want to say hello to an old friend?"

Rorschach glanced down at him and said coldly, "You know, Beric, your enthusiasm is like the residual heat on the toilet. It disgusts me."

Beric choked upon hearing this, and then his expression twisted in anger. "You're no longer a detective, Rorschach, so don't put on that arrogance in front of me! I'm telling you, this is my territory, and if I want you to, you'll die in that cell tonight!"

"is it?"

Rorschach snatched away the prison uniform he was holding down and said casually, "Hurry up, then. I'm quite looking forward to it."

Beric stared at the former city hero.

He hated this guy. From the first time he met him, he hated Rorschach from the bottom of his heart.

Perhaps it was because he couldn't stand the other person's always calm attitude, or perhaps he was jealous that Rorschach could be admired and respected by the people outside, but none of this mattered.

He just hates Rorschach!
"Don't worry, man." Bellick shook his rubber-gloved hand and sneered, "Newcomers to the prison have to go through a backdoor check. Who knows if a dangerous person like you might have a gun hidden in his butt?"

Rorschach's expression suddenly turned cold. He squinted his eyes at the other person and said in a deep voice, "If you dare to touch me with your finger, I promise that you will never use that hand again in your life."

The atmosphere immediately became tense.

Bellick's fingers instinctively reached for the baton at his waist. At this moment, the door was pushed open.

A gray-haired, portly man walked in.

"Warden!" The prison guards immediately straightened their backs.

The old man waved his hand and said impatiently, "Don't waste time. The process has been accelerated. The prisoner needs to be questioned by a psychologist before he can be officially imprisoned."

Beric took a step back unwillingly and gritted his teeth in Rorschach's ear, "Just wait and see, Rorschach. I have plenty of time here to torture you slowly."

Rorschach didn't even bother to lift his eyelids.

He's just a petty and jealous prison employee, not even a fucking policeman.

If I want to kill him, I can do it anytime.

As Rorschach passed the warden, he lowered his voice so only the two of them could hear him and said, "Old man Griffin called me over a dozen times, asking me to look after you. But you're getting too much attention right now... I can stop some of the troubles, but I can't do anything about some of them."

Rorschach nodded slightly but didn't respond.

According to the regulations of the Prison Administration, any prisoner involved in a "mental assessment dispute" must first undergo a secondary assessment by a psychologist to ensure that he or she is suitable for detention in the general prison area.

This is why Rorschach was not thrown directly into a cell.

He was taken into a small interrogation room with a one-way mirror embedded in the wall.

Rorschach's eyes swept across the mirror, and a sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth.

It goes without saying that the people standing behind the mirror are all those who wish he would die in this prison.

When the door opened again, a middle-aged woman in a white shirt and black skirt walked in.

Flesh-colored stockings wrapped around her plump legs, and her high heels made crisp sounds on the floor.

"Let me introduce myself." The woman smiled and nodded. "You can call me Sandy. I'm the in-house doctor in charge of your psychological consultation."

Rorschach smiled but said nothing.

Sandy calmly glanced at the one-way mirror beside her, then pulled out a chair and sat across from her. She spoke softly, "Let me first explain your situation, Rorschach. If you cooperate with my questions, perhaps I can convince them that you need medical attention and transfer you to a hospital. I don't need to explain how much this will benefit you."

She stared at Rorschach and deliberately lowered her voice, "You will be eaten alive by the prisoners in this prison!"

Rorschach shrugged and remained silent.

Sandy seemed to have anticipated the other party's refusal to cooperate. Undeterred, she continued, "Then how about we talk about your family? From what I understand, you were born in the slums of Chicago. Your father disappeared when your mother was pregnant. Your mother raised you alone, but an accident took her life when you were thirteen. From then on, you began to mix with gangs, and it was not until you joined the army at the age of eighteen that you began to walk the straight path. Is that right?"

"Accident?" Rorschach suddenly laughed. "You just said it was an accident?"

Sandy deliberately raised her eyebrows and asked, "Isn't it?"

Rorschach stared at her in silence for a moment, then asked, "Do you have any cigarettes?"

"Of course, I brought a pack of your favorite Pall Mall cigarettes, a favorite of blue-collar workers. I didn't expect a detective like you, who earns over $100,000 a year, to smoke such cheap cigarettes."

She leaned over to light Rorschach's cigarette, her ample breasts faintly visible beneath her shirt.

"call"

Rorschach took a deep breath, and the smoke rose slowly in the light.

He stared at the ceiling, his voice frighteningly calm: "You want to know my story, then I'll tell you my story."

(End of this chapter)