America: A Prodigy of Stereotypes

Natasha glanced at Wade indifferently and nodded.

“A mute bride, that’s really great,” Wade joked.

Natasha's gaze towards Wade changed, and Wade immediately backed down.

"Sorry, sorry, I was just kidding, just kidding, just kidding."

Wade strode towards the apartment building.

Standing in front of the apartment building, Wade looked at the door, which was exactly the same as when he left.

This indicates that the "explosive device" he made was not activated.

Wade kicked the apartment door hard and instantly dodged to the side of the corridor. His self-made "explosive device" exploded, splashing white mixed liquid everywhere, and a strange smell began to spread.

Wade was mentally prepared to move; he didn't want to continue living in this apartment building.

Finding his toolbox, Wade disassembled the refrigerator and took out all the gold coins he had accumulated over the years.

Finding a tote bag, Wade stuffed everything he needed into it: a teddy bear, an electric toothbrush, a teacup, a hate diary… all sorts of random things.

The clothes in the closet were taken out and piled on the floor. Wade rummaged through the pile of clothes for the clothes he liked. His handbag was full, so Wade put on the clothes, making his figure look bulky.

He simply couldn't fit into his clothes anymore, and Wade wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes as a farewell.

When Wade came out of the apartment building, he sat in the driver's seat of the Ford Mustang, as if something had happened.

"for you."

Wade laboriously handed the Ford Mustang keys to Natasha, opened the passenger door, and got in.

Natasha started the car, while Wade began taking off his clothes in the passenger seat.

Natasha frowned as she glanced at Wade, who was busy taking off his clothes, and felt that she should drive to the hospital and have the emergency room doctor give Wade a mental evaluation.

"Watch where you're going," Wade reminded him.

"By the way, do you have a New York State driver's license?"

Natasha smiled.

"You can't possibly not have it."

Natasha nodded.

……

A dozen minutes later, the race-limited edition Ford Mustang pulled over to the side of the road. Two New York police officers parked their patrol car in front of the Mustang, blocking its path, and asked to see the driver's license.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Wade asked.

"This doesn't look like your car."

“It’s my friend’s car. He lent it to me today so I could go on a date with my ex-wife,” Wade told the two officers.

"Could you call your friends over here?"

“Officer, what are you suspecting?” Wade looked at the two New York police officers.

"I just wanted to confirm, nothing else."

“I can make a phone call.”

Another New York police officer was staring at Natasha, who refused to show him her driver's license.

The officer who made eye contact with Natasha scrutinized her carefully, suspecting that there was nowhere on her person to put her driver's license; it could only be kept somewhere in the car.

"What's in the bag next to your feet? Why are your clothes still in the car?"

“I’m moving. My apartment has been broken into, officers,” Wade said.

"We have not received any related police reports."

"Because I didn't call the police."

Why didn't you call the police?

Wade noticed the change in the other person's tone.

“Because I didn’t lose anything, I don’t have anything valuable at home,” Wade said.

"alright."

“I know George Stacy,” Wade said, looking at the two officers.

Who are you talking about?

"George Stacy".

“We know each other too.” The two officers smiled.

Natasha glanced at Wade and guessed that George Stacy was the police chief of the two officers.

Natasha believed it was better to just give money directly, as social niceties were useless.

Wade took out his phone; he was going to call for help.

The phone book stopped at George Stacy's number. Wade thought for a moment, then moved to John Wick's number and dialed the number.

"Hey boss, Natasha and I are stuck on the road. Can you come over here for a second?"

"Thank you, boss."

Wade hung up the phone. He had called John Wick "boss" on the phone, and the two officers had subtle expressions after hearing Wade call him "boss."

Half an hour later, John Wick arrived at the scene alone, his expression very serious.

"What's going on?" John Wick glanced at Wade and Natasha.

John Wick reached into his pocket, pulled out his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge, walked up to the two officers, and showed it to them, letting them see the power of his official credentials.

"It really is the boss, the misunderstanding is cleared up."

"We made a mistake and wasted your time."

The two New York police officers smiled, got back into their patrol car, and drove away.

“John Wick, what do you do for a living now?” Natasha asked John Wick earnestly.

"Me? You can see for yourself."

John Wick smiled and handed the identification documents to Natasha.

"Boss, boss, I want to see too." Wade smiled and raised his hand.

"Let me show you another one."

John Wick pulled another ID from his pocket.

“So, it’s fake?” Natasha looked up at John Wick.

“No, it’s all true.” John Wick took his documents back and put them away safely in his pocket.

"I am currently a technical advisor to an important department of the U.S. government."

Chapter 226 is stuck.

"Are we overloaded?" Wade asked.

"There is no overload."

"John, have you considered changing your car? This racing muscle car is no longer suitable for you. You need a car that is more family-oriented."

"Shut your mouth, Wade."

“Okay, I’ll close it.” Wade smiled.

John Wick's '1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429' was limited to only 1358 units. It had only two doors, two bucket seats in the front, and two auxiliary seats in the rear. Due to the limited number of doors and the limited space for the driver's controls in the front, the rear seats were extremely cramped, and the designer clearly stated that the rear seats were only suitable for short trips.

Wade sat huddled in the back row, as if he had been placed inside a suitcase. His clothes and handbag, which he had taken off, were placed in the back seat along with him.

“But your suggestion is good, I’ll consider buying a new car,” John Wick said to Wade in the back seat, glancing at the rearview mirror.

"When are we going to look at cars? My last job was as a used car salesman, so I know all the tricks and shady dealings people do when they sell cars. I can also help you with car insurance; there are so many pitfalls in that business," Wade said, beaming.

"can."

Natasha, in the passenger seat, turned her head to the side and kept observing John Wick.

Was it "retirement" or "love" that changed him? Perhaps both.

“What are you thinking about, Natasha?” John Wick glanced at Natasha.

"Will you have children?" Natasha asked John, but she was actually thinking about something else.

“Perhaps. Helen and I might adopt a few children,” John Wick replied casually.

"Wow! Natasha, you have a good question."

"What?" Natasha turned to look at Wade, then hesitated before glancing at John.

All she knew was that after graduating from their "widow assassin" training program, they would be forcibly deprived of their fertility. Did the male assassins in the family receive the same treatment?

“Helen is sick, Natasha,” Wade answered for John.

“Yes.” John didn’t want to bring up this topic with Natasha.

"My fault."

“This is nobody’s fault,” John said.

A hint of suspicion flashed in Natasha's eyes. If her guess was true, this world was too terrifying; no one wanted to let anyone else go.

"Will she recover?" Natasha asked with concern.

"I accepted that job in order to cure Helen's illness."

“I also know a doctor who’s the best I’ve ever met. Would you like me to introduce you to him, John?” Wade asked.

"Can you take responsibility for what you said, Wade?"

"Of course I can, I always keep my word."

"Then I'll trust you this once."

"Is it a doctor you met after you retired?" Natasha asked.