He lives on another planet and is majoring in Earth Science.

Chapter 453 Heading to New York, Joining a Gang

On the interstellar shuttle during the trip to Earth.

A young white woman with a head full of red dreadlocks walked back and forth in the cabin with a cat-like gait. Her oversized red T-shirt swayed with her movements, and the T-shirt was printed with many white five-pointed stars.

She was red from head to toe, even her headscarf was red.

But when she opened her mouth, it felt familiar: "How's my outfit, meow?"

Li Ji and the others looked at each other in bewilderment.

Are you trying to cosplay as a fireball?

Dailu put her hands on her hips, glared at him, and said, "What do you know, meow? This is called gangster fashion. Criminals all dress like this. I've prepared a batch for you too, meow."

She pressed the projection button on her communicator and saw another newly sent email, another one with a prize quiz.

[A quiz with a prize! You didn't click on it last time, were you afraid you weren't smart enough?]

"Damn it, they mocked me, meow. I'll make a meow later when I have time!"

She scrolled out the email and clicked on the holographic projection.

Three sets of gangster outfits were displayed before them.

The little black boy wore a red baseball cap backwards, a patterned red headscarf over his face, and a red tracksuit.

Li Ji sneered, "Black guy, Red Boy!"

Shark Baby's lips curled down: "I'm blue, can I wear blue like Milia?"

"Sure, meow. Blue or red is fine, it's all gangster style anyway, meow."

The last two outfits are almost identical to the first two.

One was an Asian young man dressed in all red.

One was a blonde girl dressed in blue.

Li Ji looked at the two people dressed in gangster clothes and felt that it was incongruous no matter how he looked at it.

"I think it would be better if we used Black people this time."

Delulu frowned: "Why, meow? That looks so ugly, meow."

"It's so incongruous. Gang members who do rap are all Black. Not to mention two white women."

Delulu pouted angrily, "Damn it, this is blatant double discrimination, meow! I will stand firm in defending the right of white women to do gangsta rap, meow!"

Lee explained, "Gangsta rap is slum music. Black people who can't make a living do rap while committing crimes. What white girl would do that?"

"Can't white girls be poor and sinful, meow?"

"Of course they can. But they don't do rap."

"What are they doing, meow?"

"Maybe he'll be into rock music."

"Strange Earthling Meow."

In the end, they agreed with Lee Ki's suggestion and all of them became black.

Delulu pinched her dark skin and frowned repeatedly.

Milia, on the other hand, was very satisfied with her straight blue hair and absolutely adored it.

Li Ji tugged at his blue sweatshirt: "Where did you learn these fashion tips from?"

"I just collected some photos of New York gangsters and saw that they basically all have these two styles of dress, meow. I've got the mimicry all set up. Have you finished your research plan yet, meow?"

"Don't worry, I've already arranged for Thin Strip to pave the roads for us in New York. He's the kind of person who, well, he might be reliable."

-

He walked the streets of New York, draped in a thick, long trench coat.

The autumn wind was somewhat bleak, but it couldn't lift the heavy Mexican hat on his head.

He wore two pairs of sunglasses, completely obscuring his eyes. On both sides of the garbage-strewn street, scattered Black people dressed in red walked back and forth, guns tucked into their belts.

A black man wearing a red headscarf walked towards him. The man was wearing a red long-sleeved shirt with a picture of Mickey Mouse smoking a cigarette and looking fierce. Mickey Mouse had a large gold chain around his neck and was holding a wad of US dollars.

The black man has a handgun tattooed on his left cheek and a five-pointed star tattooed on his right cheek, with the number 207 inside the star.

"This guy is strange. Why does he have writing on his face? He doesn't seem very bright. The mouse on his clothes is quite cute. Is he Bonnie, Terry's nephew?"

The Black man warmly extended his hand: "Hey, homie!"

The slender man tried to shake hands, but was met with a loud high-five. Bonnie gripped his hand tightly, and it inexplicably bounced up and down, left and right in the air. After clapping his left hand, he clapped his right.

Before he could even react, Bonnie slammed his hip into his knee.

"Your ass's pretty small, buddy. Like a weed."

He rubbed his knee painfully, his mind filled with questions.

What was that set just now?

“What the hell is this way of greeting, man?” Bonnie drawled in a strange, hoarse voice, revealing his large gold teeth. “You’re Terry’s son, you son of a bitch.”

Why do you swear so much?

"When the hell did I swear, you niggar?"

"That's all profanity."

Bonnie spoke while gesturing, as if she couldn't speak without moving her hands: "This is the difference between you fucking ordinary niggers and us fucking gangsters, this is called style, damn it~"

Are you sure you're from Earth?

"God damn it! What the hell are you talking about? Street rule number one: don't fucking ask too many questions, you'll die. Man~"

"The way you gesture and shake your head when you talk really makes me uncomfortable."

Bonnie stared at him, brandishing a pistol in front of him.

"I'll spare your life because we're fucking cousins, but remember, if you're in a gang, don't fucking talk nonsense!"

“I don’t join gangs. I’m just introducing some friends to gangs.”

"God damn! Why didn't you say so earlier? Who are your brothers? We Blood Gang aren't just any ordinary gang."

"They are all aliens, no, they are all from outside."

"You stinking out-of-towner, for your sake, let's see what kind of person your mother is first."

Bonnie decided to take the long, thin strip and walk around the neighborhood to familiarize herself with the surroundings.

They walked along the desolate streets, where homeless people's tents were scattered on the roadside weeds.

Not far ahead, three gang members dressed in blue and covered in tattoos stood at the intersection chatting, pistols tucked into their waistbands.

Just as the slender figure was about to walk that way, Bonnie grabbed it.

"Stop right there! Are you out of your mind?!"

"What's wrong? Is this road going to collapse?"

"It's them."

Looking ahead, the slender figure saw three gang members in blue clothes staring at him menacingly, guns in their hands.

The chubby, dark-skinned man leading the group asked in a deep, resonant voice, "Where are you from?"

This is a street slang term meaning "which area do you belong to?", used to probe the other party's gang affiliation.

Thin, elongated brainwaves were being sent out uncontrollably.

"I come from the Laniakea Supercluster, Virgo Cluster, Local Cluster, Milky Way, Orion Arm, Gould Belt, Local Bubble, Local Interstellar Cloud, Ottel Cloud, Matra Galaxy, Planet Eight, Didili, Third State, District 76, District 403, Block 78654, Household 23247."

The four Black men present looked at each other in bewilderment after hearing this.

"Is he using some new kind of slang?"

(End of this chapter)