Chapter 33
Chapter 33
Black-Haired Investor Awakened as a Superman 033
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Damn it. Mistaking a wallet for a gun.
I was too hasty, swept away by the stimulation my brain was giving me.
… I must not make such a mistake again.
But what was done was done.
I gasped for breath.
A dull pain surged from my forehead. Blood, clearly belonging to the man, trickled down and stung my eyes.
I wiped it away hard once, twice, and my vision cleared significantly.
As if that triggered the time that had been frozen until just now to start flowing again.
The surroundings quickly became clear.
The gazes of the passengers coldly pierced through me.
The emergency alarm ringing continuously in the distance, the creaking vibrations of the subway, the low murmurs and stifled sighs of the people, all came into focus one by one.
Then, a woman was talking to the New York Police Department in a trembling voice.
“Yes, the situation is over… but someone is severely injured.”
As soon as she finished speaking, my gaze naturally turned to the man’s face.
It was a mess.
His eyes were almost swollen shut.
His nose was already broken and twisted grotesquely.
The area around it was soaked in blood.
In any case, this was a violent incident that occurred on the New York subway.
Transit police officers would be waiting at the next station.
They would take me to the 18th Precinct.
Soon, that sharp command rang out.
“Don’t move, stay where you are!”
As the police officers entered through the open subway doors, the passengers stepped back.
I knew how this situation would look.
A young Asian man in a hoodie,
And a white man lying on the floor, covered in blood.
“I don’t have any weapons.”
I said calmly, even raising both arms.
But those words were easily scattered in the air.
None of the four police officers who appeared tried to listen to me. Instead, they twisted my arms behind my back and handcuffed me.
Much more roughly than I expected.
* * *
It wasn’t much different when I was being transported to the 18th Precinct.
In the police car, they treated me roughly and rudely.
But I didn’t bother trying to defend myself.
When you think about it, this was a problem that the Trump camp should solve, not me.
It was after I arrived at the precinct and handed over my business card as part of the identification process.
The police officer who was carefully examining it froze.
He immediately started typing furiously on the keyboard, and then moved to a less crowded area behind the office with his colleague.
There, the two began to talk in low voices.
Although the sound wasn’t audible, the movements of their lips were clearly readable to my eyes.
Lip reading.
One of the abilities I gained as my brain went through the Awakening.
The words their lips formed were transmitted into my head as if they were sounds.
“You know, the UFC fighters, the financier who made them a fortune. It was that guy.”
“That Asian guy?”
“Yeah. I’m sure of it. He even started a hedge fund a few days ago. He’s a rising star on Wall Street. Didn’t we treat him a little too harshly?”
“Let’s apologize quietly and move on. It’s a pain to get involved. “
“But I don’t get it. A Wall Street softie beat up a SOCP instructor like that? His face is completely smashed. Even if he’s old…….”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Do we have any footage secured?”
“No. It happened so fast that no one seems to have recorded it. Anyway, this is a case involving the Trump camp, so we need to be careful. Until we get instructions from above, let’s just do what we can. Let’s not create unnecessary problems.”
“Okay. It doesn’t seem like this will end in our hands.”
It was absurd.
Not their attitude, but the information that came out of their conversation.
『 SOCP (Special Operations Combatives Program):
A close combat training program developed by the Army Special Operations Command 』
Even if it was a surprise attack.
Was it possible to subdue someone who was a Special Forces instructor like that?
A Wall Street softie physically beating up a Special Forces veteran was no different from a mere high school student blowing up a Wall Street mogul’s portfolio.
But looking back, my movements at the time were truly professional.
The moment my superhuman brain was activated by survival instinct, my body moved beyond reason.
Then the police officer who had returned said with a much changed attitude.
“It seems there was a misunderstanding of the situation. I hope you understand, Mr…”
* * *
A violent incident involving serious physical injury (facial fracture) in a public place (subway) is classified as a felony under New York Penal Law 120.05.
Despite being charged with such a crime, I walked out of the police station as if nothing had happened.
It was almost ten o’clock.
The Broadway theaters and billboards, which should have been flashing neon signs even at this hour, were buried in the darkness of Corona.
Taxis were not lined up on the road, and only the cold wind swirled through the alleys.
The man was standing there as if to show off.
I approached him.
The man’s face had gauze inserted into both nostrils, and a plastic splint was holding his broken nasal bone in place.
“I heard you invoked your right to remain silent… it made things easier, thanks.”
He moved his face, which was distorted by the swelling.
Considering it was a thank you for not escalating the situation, the man’s shattered pride was involved.
Within his half-closed eyes, a gaze that quickly and sharply scanned me flickered.
In any case, as the man said, escalating the situation would not have been difficult.
Now, friends weren’t the only ones involved.
In particular, the topic of civilian surveillance was far too sensitive.
“As you may know, I’m from Trump Tower. I’m Alexander.”
“How are you feeling, Alexander?”
The man unknowingly gave a bitter smile, then winced in pain.
“My body is fine. But where did you learn that technique?”
Seeing him up close in a relaxed state, the man seemed more resilient than he appeared.
Was he in his late 50s?
Despite his age, his solid physique and sharp eyes told me that he was still active.
His wrinkled face revealed the years he had endured.
Even his graying hair gave the impression that it represented his experience right in front of me.
I had a strong hunch that he was a special forces officer who had experienced at least the Gulf War or the Iraq War.
“Thanks to the UFC these days, many young people like me…….”
Before I could finish speaking, he quietly interrupted.
“Real combat is different. As you’ve already shown.”
There was firmness in his voice. A heavy silence hung between us for a moment.
“I trust there will be no further investigation.”
“Before inviting you to the camp, we were in a position where we had to carefully review all aspects. I deeply regret that things have turned out this way, but I trust you will understand.”
It’s because of my age.
If I were to list the mistakes that a young man who suddenly came into a large sum of money could make, a book would not be enough.
Whether he does drugs, what his problems with women are, what kind of friends he has, what his family problems are, and what his actual character is like.
All of that could act as a risk in the camp.
I am also aware of that.
But that’s also what happens when I join the camp, isn’t it?
‘Surveillance, huh.’
My thoughts extended not only to this direct investigation, but also to indirect investigations that were possible electronically.
I couldn’t help but frown.
The man, conscious of my expression, immediately spoke.
“It was my fault that I committed today’s actions alone. I ask that you forget about today and only think about the fact that the President highly values you.”
He continued.
“Next time, I’ll make an appointment and formally visit your office with Mark. It will be a good opportunity for both sides.”
If it’s Mark, it’s Mark Meadows.
The current White House Chief of Staff.
He must have brought up that name on purpose, but that wouldn’t change my mind.
“Thank you for the offer, but.”
I answered firmly.
“I’ll have to decline.”
I know what you expect from me, but no way.
* * *
To think positively.
What happened at the police station today was an opportunity to look back at my original intentions.
Here, they still judge me as just an Asian.
Until I handed over my business card, I was still being evaluated under their standards.
I still have to be constantly tested to see if I am a person who fits in this city that never sleeps.
It was a long way from being a young star on Wall Street.
‘Should I just go into the Trump camp and shake things up properly? It’s not like I can’t do it.’
Such recklessness soared and quickly died down.
It was because I thought I would rather have dinner with Mom than get involved in the presidential election.
The real power is on Wall Street.
Although it is invisible, that real power, which is more widely and deeply spread, is the true power.
I walked, lost in thought.
Before I knew it, I had reached 72nd Street.
The new home for our mother and son, The Olcott.
“Mr. President. You’re much later than usual.”
The doorman standing in front of the door greeted me.
Then, noticing the small wounds on my face, he looked worried.
This elderly gentleman is the only person in this area who doesn’t test me.
I stopped as I passed through the door he opened.
“Henry.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
He turned to me and answered.
“Leave the cash you need for immediate expenses and buy Tesla stock. Then, before long, you won’t have to worry about loan repayments anymore. I’ll let you know when to sell separately.”
A look of bewilderment crossed his face, but only for a moment.
He seemed to have decided to stop saying something, and closed his slightly open mouth.
Then, he looked at me endlessly with eyes filled with gratitude.
Only then did I feel that some of the lump in my chest was relieved.
A small smile spread across my face.
“Thank you always, Henry.”