The extraordinary life of a certain American comic

When Locke arrived at the safe house, the police car at the door was still there.

Even...

From the one car Jack had mentioned on the phone, it has become four now.

And there are patrolmen on the scene, setting up cordons.

What's going on?

Locke frowned and got out of the car.

A patrolman who was setting up cordons saw Locke coming over and quickly stopped him.

"Stop..."

"SSS!"

Locke didn't wait for the patrolman to finish, and waved his right hand to show his law enforcement certificate.

The patrolman was slightly stunned when he saw the name and SSS logo on the certificate.

"Sentinel... Secret Service?"

"Who is in charge here."

"Uh..."

The patrolman came back to his senses, turned his head, and subconsciously looked at the male detective who was talking to a plainclothes woman next to a police car not far away.

"It's Chief Detective George Stacy."

"Thank you."

Locke thanked the patrolman who answered his question, patted his shoulder, and then walked towards Chief Detective George Stacy not far away.

George Stacy?

Gwen Stacy's father?

Not bad, not too old, and he seems a little handsome.

Locke thought as he walked towards Chief Detective George Stacy.

George Stacy, who was discussing with Kate Beckett whether to force his way in, noticed Locke walking towards him.

George and Beckett exchanged glances, and the latter also took the opportunity to set his eyes on Locke who was walking over.

Locke spoke first.

"Chief Detective George Stacy?"

"I am, you are..."

"Locke Underwood, Sentinel Secret Service, senior agent."

Locke walked up to George, introduced himself, and then handed his ID to the latter, and then pointed to the safe house in front of him: "This is the safe house of our bureau, my people are inside, didn't he tell you?"

"He did."

"..."

It was not George who spoke, but the female detective next to George.

Locke looked at the female detective who spoke.

"You are..."

"Kate Beckett."

The female detective introduced herself: "New York Police Department, 12th Precinct, Homicide Squad."

Locke listened to the name and took a serious look at the female detective.

Kate Beckett, isn't this from the American TV series "The Book of the Dead"?

Locke remained calm, smiled slightly, and shook hands with Beckett: "Since my men have revealed their identities, how can the New York Police Department..."

George next to him looked up at Locke, interrupted Locke's words, and explained the reason.

"We asked him to show his ID, but he said he forgot to bring it, and we asked him to come out, but he didn't come out."

"..."

Locke listened to the reason George gave for coming out, and fell silent, then shouted towards the safe house: "Damn it, I didn't bring my ID, why didn't you call me."

The words fell.

Jack's voice came from the safe house, with a little surprise in the middle: "Boss! You are finally here. My phone is out of battery. I asked them to throw the phone in, but they refused and insisted that I go out."

George and Beckett looked at each other, and then looked at Locke without saying a word.

Locke's mouth twitched.

He didn't even need to look at the expressions of the two people to know what they wanted to say.

It's nothing more than, look, it's not our fault, it's your problem.

It doesn't matter if there is no ID to show his identity. We asked him to come out, but he didn't come out, and he asked us to throw the phone in.

This is not the opposite of the heaven.

Locke closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He said that when he came, he was thinking about why Jack didn't call him back.

Good guy.

It turns out that the phone is out of battery.

Luckily he arrived in time, if he came a little later, the New York Police Department would have broken in.

Locke's thoughts turned, he opened his eyes again, smiled bitterly, looked at George and Beckett, took out his business card box from his pocket, and handed one to each of them: "Sorry, I bothered you tonight."

George and Beckett took the business card and took a look: "It's okay, we are here to check it out. Since we know this is yours, we will leave first."

In fact, there was nothing to do.

Now that it is confirmed that this is the territory of friendly forces, there is even less trouble.

Locke thanked him again, then shook hands with George and Beckett respectively, and apologized again.

No way.

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Who made them wrong in this matter first?

Soon.

George and Beckett put away the business card, and did not stay for long. After directing the patrol officers who came over to remove the cordon, they said goodbye to Locke, and then drove away one after another.

After a while.

The New York Police Department was evacuated.

Locke withdrew his gaze from the receding police lights, walked to the door of the safe house expressionlessly, and knocked on the door: "It's me, open the door."

Jack quickly opened the door and looked behind Locke.

"Boss, are they gone?"

"Yeah."

Locke nodded, without saying anything more, and walked straight into the house.

He did not blame Jack for what happened just now.

Although Jack is big and strong, and even looks a bit ferocious, he is honest and kind.

The most important point.

Jack is very loyal to him, otherwise Locke would not have arranged for Jack to be placed here after catching Quinn, the vampire driver who escaped from the abandoned hangar.

Anyway, nothing happened, why blame your own people for such a small matter?

It's unnecessary.

After Jack closed the door, Locke set his eyes on Quinn, the vampire driver who was sitting on the sofa with holy water bombs tied all over his body.

Quinn looked a little miserable at the moment.

His right arm was chopped off.

Even his right leg was bent to a degree visible to the naked eye.

And...

The skin exposed outside had traces of burns.

At the moment, he looked like a disabled vampire who had just been rescued from a fire.

"Hiss, what's going on."

"This guy is not honest, boss."

Jack, who was following behind, complained, and then said: "Just now this guy was trying to run away while I was looking for a charging cable upstairs. It was this guy who provoked the New York Police Department."

Jack complained, and Quinn, who was sitting on the sofa, seemed like a wooden man.

Moving and silent.

Locke put his hands in his pockets, walked to the sofa, and looked at Quinn who lowered his head as if pretending to be dead.

Jack moved a chair from the back: "Boss, sit down."

Locke did not speak, sat on the chair, crossed his legs, took out a cigarette from his arms, handed it to Jack, lit it for himself, and blew a smoke ring towards Quinn on the sofa.

The smoke ring went straight forward and sprayed on Quinn's face.

Quinn looked up and looked at Locke expressionlessly.

...