I'm building Gundams in America

Bob looked extremely tired.

It was like a dried-up well.

Clearly, he paid a heavy price to help Wayne obtain this certificate.

Taking the document from the other person, Wayne nodded, shook Bob's hand, and said calmly:

"Bob, my friend, thank you for everything you've done for me, and you will gain my friendship in return."

Feeling the touch of at least two hundred dollars in his palm, Bob let out a long sigh of relief, quietly stuffed the money into his pocket, and his tired eyes regained their light.

"That's only right, Mr. Wayne. I respect you and long for your friendship."

He gestured for Wayne to follow him, then turned and walked toward the security door.

Wayne looked at Lyon and said:

"Leon, good boy, keep an eye on him, I'll be back."

"It's my honor, Godfather." Leon's face lit up with excitement. He reached out and grabbed the freckled man's shoulder, pulling him into his arms amidst the man's astonished gaze. He nodded to Wayne.

Wayne seemed to have always maintained good relations with the Black gang, and Raphael of the Latino gang was frequently seen around the godfather at the King County Correctional Center. In contrast, the white gang leader seemed somewhat distant from the godfather.

Lyon was more than happy to have this opportunity to do something for the other party and build a closer relationship.

Not to mention that this freckled man was fair-skinned and had the arrogance of a newcomer, which was exactly to Lyon's liking.

After listening to the Godfather's "sermon," Leon has decided to respect her own heart and be a good girl.

The first step is to fully respect your own inner desires.

Thinking of this, Leon turned to look at the freckled man who was tightly held in his arms by his thick arms, stuck out his tongue, which was like a shoe insole, and licked the freckled man's cheek, saying with a smile:

"Sweet boy, you are such a sweet boy."

The freckled man was horrified and muttered to himself:

"No! I just want to make a deal! A big deal! I can give you the money! I... I haven't even committed a crime, I was just put in here, you can't do this to me..."

Upon hearing those words, many of the gang prisoners around him changed their expressions and looked at him.

Sam, standing to the side, said with a grim expression:

"You were planted here? You're a fucking undercover agent?"

If there's one thing these prisoners in American prisons hate most, it's the undercover agents who infiltrate the prisons.

In the United States, sting operations are common practice for police. Often, in order to solve cases or investigate smuggling channels inside prisons, police officers or even complete novices are sent to pose as prisoners to gather information.

These are the people that the real prisoners hate the most, just like Judas who betrayed Jesus.

The freckled man's words instantly stirred murderous intent in many of the surrounding prisoners, especially those who were originally drug dealers or had unsolved murder cases.

Leon tightened his grip on the freckled man's arm and whispered in his ear:

"Hey, you little bitch, I was originally planning to leave you as a complete person when Mr. Godfather came back. But since you're an undercover agent ready to betray everyone, I'll have to reform you properly..."

The freckled man's eyes widened, and he tried with all his might to break free from Leon's arm. He instantly understood the terrifying meaning behind the other man's words. However, facing Leon, a muscular man with a neck as thick as his head, his small arms and legs were completely unable to break free.

"Police..." he tried to shout, but Leon's large hand instantly covered his mouth.

Immediately afterwards, with the help of several white gang prisoners, Leon, as if putting his arm around the freckled man's shoulder, pulled him up and dragged him towards the bathroom.

According to regulations, his assigned task this morning was to clean the public bathroom.

The main tasks are unclogging pipes and cleaning channels.

Now he's preparing to start work ahead of schedule...

Inside the elevator.

"Mr. Wayne, I've pulled some strings this time and managed to get you three days of care in the psychological counseling ward..." Bob said, recalling the scene from last night, feeling a slight pain in his back and legs.

His pelvis was almost broken from sitting on it.

"This is the limit. If it goes any longer, we'll have to go directly to the psychiatric department for a more specialized diagnosis. My... my friend isn't at that level either."

This is Bob's limit.

Bob then added:

"Although the management of the psychological counseling ward is more relaxed and the prisoners are more free, there are still some patients with genuine mental illnesses, including bipolar disorder."

"If you encounter these types of prisoners, you must stay away from them as much as possible."

"Also, your supporting documents state depression, so you'll need to demonstrate some degree of depression during your examinations, as long as it's plausible. After all, almost everyone in this country has some kind of mental illness; depression is practically as common as the common cold." "I've heard that your case is going to trial soon, so you must keep a low profile; it will benefit your subsequent sentencing." The reason he dared to pull strings for Wayne was not only because of the money, but also because Wayne's trial was imminent and he wouldn't be staying here for long. Bob understood perfectly well that a benefactor could often turn into a scourge.

He'd already made a fortune off Wayne; getting rid of this cash cow as soon as possible was the wisest choice, otherwise it might cause some serious trouble. Wayne nodded and said:

"Thank you, Officer Bob."

Three days is too long for him; if everything goes smoothly, three hours might be enough.

Even 30 minutes.

Bob thought that Wayne, this rich guy, was probably just on vacation in the psychological counseling ward.

After hesitating for a moment, he continued:

"Of course, if three days isn't enough, I can go back later and... pull some strings to help you get another three days."

As they were talking, the elevator arrived at the seventh floor.

Bob quickly pulled out handcuffs and loosely hung them on Wayne as if they were accessories. Then he led Wayne through a security passage to a security door.

Swipe your ID card, show your proof, register, and hand over the documents.

Wayne was sent to the psychological counseling ward.

Bob gestured to Wayne and turned to leave.

A female prison guard received Wayne and led him down a corridor to his cell.

It was only then that Wayne realized that the psychological counseling ward on the seventh floor was more of a hospital ward than a part of the prison.

The surrounding walls and corridors were snow-white and very clean, much tidier than the ordinary prison area below.

Every now and then, medical staff in white coats would appear, looking relaxed.

It seems they just finished some data collection.

The corridor is lined with spaces that resemble consultation rooms.

You can vaguely see some medical staff inside, treating patients wearing orange prison uniforms.

What surprised Wayne even more was that there were quite a few female prisoners here.

This is a mixed-gender prison ward.

But thinking about it, it makes sense.

The psychological counseling ward is mainly used to detain prisoners with mental illnesses. First of all, there are not many of these special prisoners, and most of them have to undergo compulsory treatment. It is more like a severe mental hospital than a prison.

Therefore, there is no need to distinguish between men and women.

Wayne was led by the prison guard to the door of an office. He knocked and said:

"Grace, someone has applied to be imprisoned."

"Please come in." A rough voice came from inside the door.

The prison guard led Wayne through the door and they saw a black policewoman weighing less than 200 pounds sitting behind a desk. Wayne was led over and made to sit in a restraint chair far away from her, his hands and feet firmly handcuffed.

The Black female prison guard named Grace glanced at the file in her hand and said to Wayne:

"Mr. Wayne, I have received the application materials from the high-risk ward. You have some... depression, so you need to receive auxiliary treatment in the psychological counseling ward..."

"However, before that, you need to undergo a simple psychological assessment. Could you briefly describe your feelings and thoughts to me?"

Wayne remained calm and spoke sincerely:

"Okay, officer."

"My idea is simple: this country should go to hell. I want to start a civil war in America, destroy the whole of America, and make America bow down to the East."

"Destruction, conquest, rebirth, redemption."

"Destroy the most evil country in the world and give human civilization a completely new choice."

"That's my idea, it's very simple and ordinary."

His tone was very frank, and his expression was incredibly sincere.

Grace looked at Wayne, who was speaking calmly, and her expression gradually turned to astonishment.

Having worked in the psychological counseling ward for so many years, and having handled countless inmates with psychological problems, Grace could clearly tell that the man in front of her was telling the truth.

That's really what the other party thinks, and that's what they're planning to do.

She couldn't help but mutter a curse under her breath:

"That son of a bitch Bob, where did he find this lunatic? Didn't he say last night he was just a rich guy who wanted to relax a bit...?"

However, this does not conflict.

In America, wealthy tycoons are often mentally unstable.

He then stamped "Passed" on Wayne's materials without hesitation.

Soon, Wayne was led away by two prison guards, through two security gates, and into a wide area resembling a plaza.

Here, some male and female prisoners are moving around freely.

There were only twenty or thirty people in total.

The number of prison guards is also much smaller than in the lower prison areas.

It's more like a rehabilitation center than a prison.

Inmates with severe aggression, mania, or schizophrenia are kept in solitary confinement awaiting admission to a mental hospital. This psychological rehabilitation ward even has sofas, books, magazines, and a coffee machine for the inmates' use. Some even watch movies on television.

It perfectly aligns with the treatment philosophy of a relaxed environment.

Moreover, the prisoners' activity area was much wider and almost unrestricted.

The reason for this is that most of the services provided in the lower prison wards are not self-funded, but rather obtained by the prison from government funds. In contrast, the psychological counseling ward above charges for treatment from the moment one enters.

Books, coffee, movies, and so on—all of these cost money.

Wayne grabbed a cup of coffee and started wandering around the prison area.

The place appears peaceful, and most prisoners, aside from being clearly depressed or mentally unstable, have much better relationships with the guards than those in the high-risk wards below.

It perfectly matches the image of Western leftist prisons as portrayed in propaganda.

Wayne walked along, observing the profiles that appeared above the heads of the prisoners he encountered.

They did not encounter the leader of Jose's gang.

Soon, he arrived at a room marked "Self-Healing Room".

According to the sign at the entrance, this is a place for prisoners to treat themselves, and there is a lot of equipment inside.

Wayne went inside and saw that there were small cubicles separated by curtains, and various equipment was placed in the cubicles.

Wayne chose a massage chair and lay down, ready to relax.

Just then, a voice came from next door, accompanied by sounds of struggling:

"Hey, little darling, you'd better relax. Since you can't resist me, why not enjoy it? What's that saying again? Life is like rape; if you can't refuse, you might as well enjoy it..."

"Since you're being forced by me right now, you should enjoy the life I'm giving you. Otherwise, since I already know where you live, I'll kill your whole family..."

"You know I mean what I say."

Wayne turned his head in the direction of the sound and immediately saw the character's name appear on the panel:

José

You have entered the mental prison of the Dark Royal Court. Maintaining mental stability and punishing the evils committed within will earn you rewards.