Chapter 100: Misfortune Comes Alone

"Earlier tonight, there was an explosion on the commercial street of the Metropolitan University. Thanks to the new Superman who rushed to the scene to help control the disaster and sent all the wounded to the hospital as quickly as possible. Fortunately, no one died. Relevant departments have taken this matter seriously. There is a high probability that this is a terrorist attack. The police have not disclosed any relevant clues..."

Mike opened his eyes feebly, already hearing this news for the first time. At this moment, he was lying on the soft hospital bed with bandages all over his body. The aisle outside the door was noisy, and it sounded like a vegetable market next door.

When Jay pushed the door in, he was a little refreshed, arched and sat on the head of the bed, barely squeezing a smile: "Hi. Although I have never had a chance to look in the mirror, I guess I am now The image certainly doesn't look great."

"A little confident, buddy." Jay brought the door backhand, comfortingly, "You look good."

"So how about Jessie?" Mike asked impatiently when he just sat down, "Is she okay?"

"She's fine." This is not only unfounded comfort, the girl was rescued by Jay himself from under the dining table jammed by the broken stone wall, and he was sure that the girl was okay.

"That's good." Mike took a long sigh of relief, as if he had put down a big stone in his heart, and then asked hopelessly, "Then...my car...?"

"Uh...that seems to be hopeless." Jay apologized. When he rushed to the scene, there was almost a mess around the restaurant, and the vehicles parked a little closer were blown up beyond recognition, and Mike's gray sports car was the worst. It was almost completely dismantled. The farthest door was blown out more than 40 meters, embedded in the stone wall of a building on the street, and the seat was torn in half by the waist, with a charred shell and broken pieces. The parts are scattered all over the floor, and it is impossible for even the best repairman to restore it.

Mike grimaced: "Well, then it looks like my dad is really mad this time."

Jay had previously worried that he might be hit after the unexpected terrorist attack interrupted his carefully planned first date, but it seems that he still worries too much, which is considered a big advantage of his roommate.

"Right," Mike suddenly thought of something, "Don't you should go home today?"

"I live in the metropolis and I can go back any day." Jay sat on the chair next to his bed. "I heard about you, and thought you might want to see a familiar face. So I might I will stay for two more days."

"Thanks, but I'm fine here." Mike said, and paused, "Well, maybe except for the pain in his whole body, the lack of strength, and the dripping every day. At least there is a TV in the ward, which is not enough. It's boring. Haven't you been going to Petva with your family for the past two days? There is no need to change the itinerary for me. I am happy to stay here, and I can delay it for two more days without going back to listen to my mom's nagging."

Jay looked at the bandaged guy with a somewhat complicated expression, and couldn't help feeling that this guy was not so careless in everything.

Although Mike said that, he was unavoidably bored after Jay left. He said that there is a TV set to watch, but almost all channels replayed his bombing accident over and over again, which only made people upset. So he started to think about it, thinking about whether Jiexi would be willing to associate with himself after experiencing this terrible change on the first date, and wondering if his mother will hear the news now, and he is rushing to the metropolis anxiously, and his father will be because of him. How angry was the accident when he stole his car this time.

Thinking of this, he suddenly realized a problem-why the explosion has been so long now, the father who is obviously in the metropolis hasn't appeared at the door of the ward?

Mike hasn't dealt with his father very much since he can remember. His father has always been very strict with him, but he just likes to fight against him. When his father told him to go east, he went to the west. When his father told him to sit down, he just wanted to stand. In his own words, that bad old man seemed to be dissatisfied with him forever, in everything. The more dissatisfied the other party is, the more rebellious he is, and eventually a vicious circle is formed, and the relationship between father and son becomes worse and worse like a smoothly declining curve.

But no matter how rebellious he used to be, the troubles that caused him can only be considered trivial at best, and they are nothing compared to the consequences of today. Since his father hasn't appeared at the door of this ward until now, he has to start to wonder if the other party is finally so angry that he wants to give him up completely.

His distraction was interrupted when the door of the ward was gently pushed open. Two men in neat suits walked into the ward, looking like they had come out of a spy war movie. They stood by his bed in a standard posture, and Mike couldn't help raising his eyebrows suspiciously: "Uh, gentlemen? How can I help?"

One of the men skillfully showed his ID from the inside of his jacket, with the big "fbi" written on it, and a badge with various patterns. Mike took a breath, but he didn't expect it to be the beginning of the spy war movie.

"Mr. Mike Marcus?" the man asked.

"it's me."

"About the bombing earlier today, we have some questions we need to ask you."

Oh, it turned out to be a confession. This seems to be taken for granted. Mike is one of the victims closest to the scene. It should be an indispensable step to have an FBI agent to ask about the confession.

"Just ask." Mike lay back on the bed softly. "You can ask as long as you want. Anyway, I have time now, so I just don't have anything to pass."

"No, Mr. Marcus," said the agent, "not here, I need you to come with us."

"Huh?" Mike suspected he had heard it wrong.

The two detectives exchanged glances at each other, and then the person in front said again: "This is the case. Our relevant experts have completed the evidence collection of the explosion site. Based on their analysis of the blast site, the source of the explosion seems to be you. That car."

Mike opened his mouth in surprise: "Wait a minute, are you saying that I am a suspect in the blasting case?"

The two agents looked at him blankly and did not answer.

"You know how ridiculous this sounds, right? You see, I'm still a college student, at the opposite university! Where do I look like a bomber?"

"No bomber looks like a bomber, sir." The agent said, "And we are not sure that you are a bomber. It's just based on the clues currently available. We are only doing an essential part of the investigation. You are very cooperative, otherwise we will have to resort to tougher measures."

Mike was helpless, but suddenly he remembered something: "By the way, that car is my dad's car. Have you ever talked to him about it?"

"Of course we also went to find Mr. Marcus, but that's where another problem lies." The agent sighed softly and said, "Your father... Mr. Marcus is missing. , No one knows where he is."

Mike petrified instantly.

For the first time in his life, he felt that he might be really hopeless this time.