Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

The NYPD (New York City Police Department) is a huge and bloated system, full of all kinds of wrongful convictions, and many complaints of racial discrimination are received every day. And the police station's media spokesperson's attitude towards this is: we heard, we will change, maybe.

But none of these things mattered at all to the plump archivist, Mabel, who was in his fifties, wide-hearted and chubby, and smiled at everyone. The popularity in the police station is good, after all, who would have trouble getting along with him?

It was already late at night, and he was sitting on a chair that he had purchased separately for overweight people, happily watching soap operas on the computer, and drinking a milkshake. Obviously, his weight was incompatible with the drink with excess sugar. It doesn't matter.

His quiet time didn't last long when a voice from the ceiling made him shiver: "Hey, Mabel."

The fat administrator looked up, his expression loosened, he put down the milkshake in his hand without complaint, stood up and shook his head at the person on the ceiling: "You can't just break into my place like that. Office, spider, if anyone sees you here, you're in big trouble."

Spider-Man leaped lightly from the ceiling and landed on the ground weak and boneless. He shrugged and didn't care about the administrator's words: "I avoided every surveillance, and I have to say, the surveillance cameras here should be replaced with blind spots."

"That's a matter of the finance department, and it has nothing to do with me." Mabel sat back on the chair again, and the chair let out an overwhelmed whine, but it still completed the task for which it was designed. "What's the matter with me?"

"Oh, look at what you said, Mabel. Can't I just come over and catch up with you?" Spider-Man deliberately made a very hurt look, and his behavior made Mabel turn over. white eyes. He opened his drawer easily, and there was an unopened box of pizza, with residual warmth.

The administrator showed off the pizza on the table and said triumphantly: "The authentic Italian taste, ordered half an hour ago, and it's still hot. You're lucky, do you want to eat it?"

"You know, Mabel, you should really lose weight." Spider-Man said this, but his hands were not slow at all. He immediately opened the box and took out a slice of pizza, and put his mask on again. Pulled up a little and took a full bite.

The manager smiled and shook his head, took a slice and ate it himself, some sauce got on his mustache, he didn't care, he just said to Spider-Man inarticulately: "Okay, let's talk, What's the matter?"

"That's it....Did you take a bank robber yesterday morning? Just one, white, middle-aged."

"There are so many white middle-aged robbers, almost as many as black rapists. But if you're talking about bank robbers..." Mabel ate the remaining half in one bite. Pizza, chomping down a few times on the keyboard with my hands still in the sauce.

The old machine beeped a few times, and an expressionless face appeared on the big-ass display.

"Look at... Jonathan Harlan, 41, homeless, single. Well, no criminal record, that's kind of weird."

Mabel's words made Spider-Man a little puzzled: "What's wrong?"

"Although I'm just an archivist, spider, I've been here for many years. I've been here since they were still using paper files. …" Recalling his memories, his bloated face, which was bloated because of his excess obesity, actually showed a ray of wisdom at this time, making Spider-Man scream dazzlingly.

"I've seen a lot of criminals, bank robbers are a special kind. Some people are just impulsive and stupid. But the other group is different, well-trained and well-planned. Although they all ended up being arrested, Maybe we'll have to spend the rest of our lives in the same prison, but this gentleman in front of us is different. They all have a lot of criminal records."

He pressed his hand on the keyboard a few more times and called up another document: "Look, not only does he have no criminal record, but he used to be a bank account manager. Even if he is fired, he won't be reduced to that appearance. ."

Spider-Man frowned.

There is indeed a secret to the matter, but so far, he has not found any useful clues. These fragmented information made things even more confusing, and it was impossible for him to directly ask Jonathan Harlan himself, who was still in the police station.

"Speaking of which, Spider Boy, have you been quiet recently? I haven't seen you in the newspaper for a long time. I almost thought you had an accident."

Spider-Man spread his hands: "It's not every day that super criminals come out and let me kick their stupid faces and feet, New York's law and order has gotten a lot better recently, and... I also have my own business to do. "

Mabel made a gesture and picked up another piece of pizza: "Understood, private life. I want to say, why don't you masked heroes use your ability to make your life better?"

Spider-Man deliberately teased him: "Hey, you don't know who I am, what if I am Tony Stark?"

The archivist rolled his eyes: "Come on, the aftershave you use is of the 'Daddy Eugene' brand, and it costs $1.99 a bottle. Rich rich people don't use this kind of thing. I'm not Fool."

"You can smell this?!" Spider-Man fell into shock, and the white goggles on his mask also widened.

"Of course it's because I use this brand myself." Mabel smiled, and finished the pizza in two or three bites. "And then again, what's your business with this somewhat special bank robber?"

"I suspect it's not that simple, hey, Mabel, can you give me his home address?"

When the archivist heard this sentence, his head almost hit the computer screen. He turned his head with 'WTF' all over his face, and the two looked at each other for a long time. He said, "Seriously, Spider Boy, if someone else said this, I'd have someone come to arrest him by now."

Having said that, he still gave Spider-Man the address, and then immediately turned his face and refused to recognize the person: "I wish you a smooth investigation, and hurry up now, if someone sees you, my job will not be guaranteed."

"Okay, goodbye, Mabel."

Saying goodbye to the archivist, Spider-Man returned along the same path. He was hanging on the ceiling. Although there were still policemen on night shifts in the police station at night, few people would be idle to look at the ceiling. He went out carefully. Then a Dangsi flew to the roof of the building next door to the police station.

Squatting on the dripping beast, his fingers tapped the head of the dripping beast unconsciously, and he fell into thinking.

A bank robber who looks like a story, a former bank account manager with no previous convictions, chose to rob a bank in a thin undershirt in the early morning of New York in August with only a 9mm pistol... .why?

Looking for money? But he didn't seem to care about that pile of money at the time... No, maybe his family situation was bad?

After thinking about it again and again, he decided to go to Jonathan's house to have a look.

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It was ten o'clock that night when we arrived at Jonathan Harlan's house. Even if he could swing between tall buildings with cobwebs, New York nights were never peaceful. Peter had to pick up a few thieves, tie them up and call the police, which was a waste of time.

But he arrived anyway—only, his home was a bit more than Peter expected.

It was a single-family home on Long Island, and from the outside it was an unmistakable mansion. The third floor, swimming pool, garden, garage... everything, at this time, the second floor of the villa is lit up.

How could a rich man living in a villa not want to rob a bank? Also, didn't his family ask a lawyer to apply for bail for him?

Peter frowned, he leapt lightly across the street, entered the courtyard of the villa in a few leaps, and hung it silently on the second-floor wall—he intended to enter from the balcony.

Just then, he heard a low cry.

Peter stepped into the balcony lightly, his battle suit has been upgraded once, and the soles of his feet are made of special materials. It can block most of the sound. He spent a hundred dollars for this, but fortunately, the money is worth the money.

The interior decoration of the villa is simple and post-modern, and it has the taste of the middle-class self-proclaimed taste. A large number of black and white and a few vases constitute the main hall on the second floor. An oversized TV hangs on the wall, which is empty, with only a few lazy sofas scattered in the corner of the living room.

He listened carefully, the cry came from a certain room on the second floor, and walked along the sound, he stopped in front of a door, and there was a woman inside who was crying non-stop.

It was so close that Peter was about to push the door open to comfort her—if he was retarded, he really would.

But he wasn't, so Peter quietly walked around the villa in five minutes after locating her, and managed to find Jonathan's study on the first floor. Compared with the simple decoration style, his study is very antique. A laptop sits on a heavy solid wood table, with a photo frame beside it.

Turning on the light, Peter glanced at the frame, which contained a photo of Jonathan and a woman, both smiling brightly in the photo. He took out his phone and took a picture, intending to check on the woman later—Jonathan wasn't married, if he remembered correctly.

Turn on the computer, and there is no surprise that there is a power-on password. Not surprised, he took out another USB flash drive and inserted it. A minute later, he successfully entered the system.

Moving his fingers, Peter nodded: OK, it's time to do what I do best.

He started typing very quickly, looking for clues, rummaging through the hard drive. The speed was about the same as when he was arguing about Star Wars in online forums, and yet, he got nothing.

Jonathan Harlan's computer is full of customer profiles, and he doesn't use social media or talk to people online. There is no trace of him on the Internet, the clue is broken.

Gee.

After pouting, Peter lay back, leaning on the boss chair and turning around. His eyes moved to Jonathan's bookcase. As a practitioner in the financial industry, the books he read were all masterpieces of contemporary literature - Peter had never read one of them anyway.

Intrigued, he jumped up and opened the bookcase. Started to carefully search every corner to see if there was a hidden secret door like in the movie, and of course found nothing. This is really just an ordinary bookcase.

Shrugging his shoulders, Peter didn't feel bad about it. Anyway, he just stopped by to have a look. He sat on the desk, and his fingers began to tap the table unconsciously again.

Jonathan, why on earth did you choose to rob a bank? You are obviously not short of money....Wait, what if someone is short of money?

A flash of lightning flashed through Peter's mind, and he narrowed his eyes and began to do everything in his power to catch the fleeting flash of lightning.

Yes, you're not short of money, you're living well, so you don't have to rob a bank. But others are not necessarily, is it one of your former clients? Or your colleague? Someone got your handle and told you to rob a bank, but you didn't choose to get the job done because of your uneasy conscience, not even wearing a hood.

Just when he was excited about his guess, another voice in his mind poured cold water on him: Peter, you watch too many movies

He said to himself in Aunt May's voice: Why are you holding on to this matter? Maybe Jonathan Harlan's story has no secrets at all, not to mention that he has been arrested, why do you have to bother about it?

He almost convinced himself, really, just a little bit.

Peter sighed quietly.

He knows that UU reading www.uukanshu.com can stand by and choose to go far. This matter has nothing to do with him in the first place. The other party is a rich and rich man. Maybe he has done some dirty things in these years. Even if he does not enter because of robbing the bank, he will enter because of tax evasion.

But he just couldn't really convince himself.

What if....I mean, just in case, the person is innocent? He was threatened, and robbing a bank was not his intention.

The thought swirled in his mind, constantly making sounds to remind him. It's like a loud wake-up alarm on a Monday morning that you want to ignore, but you know, you can't. Otherwise you will pay dearly - Peter thought so too, and his conscience would not allow him to just leave it alone.

Just when he made up his mind to investigate this matter to the end, a worried voice came from outside the door: "Jonathan, is that you? Are you inside?"

Peter's pupils shrank, and he turned to look at the window - it was closed! And now it was too late to open it, he put it too far, and the door handle of the study had been pulled down.

Well, Spider-Man, you must have made a trip to the police station for trespassing. Peter thought to himself, shrugging.