Rorschach pedaled his bicycle at full speed.
Whether on television or online, the explosive news about Stark Industries continued to ferment.
Even the televisions in street-facing shop windows and the towering electronic billboards were running rolling news reports.
Even on the phones of pedestrians by the roadside, Tony Stark was the only protagonist.
But that had nothing to do with Rorschach.
He crossed several familiar streets and arrived in front of a Chinese restaurant called "Delicious."
The restaurant was small, compact, and refined.
But though it was small, it had everything it needed.
After years of painstaking management by his aunt,
Delicious Chinese Restaurant had become a household name throughout Manhattan.
Rorschach stepped through the door, passed the neatly arranged tables and chairs, and headed toward the counter.
Even though lunchtime had already passed,
several rednecks dressed like cowboys were still stuffing themselves in a corner of the restaurant.
His aunt's superb cooking
was nothing short of a crushing blow to ordinary people in the United States, whose diets were bland and whose cooking methods were limited.
"Good morning, Aunt."
Rorschach strode over and leaned across the counter.
At that moment, his aunt was sitting behind the counter, the calculator beneath her fingertips clicking away as she sorted through the accounts.
Hearing Rorschach's greeting, she did not even raise her head before saying in a mocking tone:
"It's one in the afternoon, Mr. Rorschach. You're late again."
His aunt was not very old, only around thirty-five.
She wore her hair in a short bob that reached her ears, and dressed in a white chef's uniform every day.
Her slightly rounded chin further highlighted the clean, capable air of a strong career woman.
His aunt stopped calculating the accounts and could not help rolling her eyes at the smiling Rorschach.
"Our disposable helper, apprentice Mike, took a long leave. At least a week..."
His aunt casually pointed at the takeout containers sitting nearby.
"So I'm planning to suspend delivery orders. Once you've delivered these, you can come back."
"Big Mouth Mike?"
In Rorschach's memories, the image of a frail Black young man with an enormous appetite gradually became clear.
"Didn't he always say he wanted to work overtime to learn cooking? Why did he suddenly take leave?"
"A few days ago, Mike's seven-year-old brother went missing..." His aunt sighed, a trace of sarcasm appearing in her eyes. "You know what the police are like in poor neighborhoods. Rich people like Tony Stark are the ones they serve. Mike can only rally his relatives and friends..."
"If I have time, I'll contact Mike and see if I can help..."
Rorschach said seriously, then picked up the helmet from the counter.
"Aunt, I'm going to make the deliveries first. Otherwise, I'll get another bad review."
With one hand, he easily picked up the heavy takeout container and turned to leave.
"You brat..."
Behind the counter, his aunt watched Rorschach's broad, powerful back and smiled warmly with satisfaction.
Still, she blinked in confusion.
"Has he hit a growth spurt? Or has he been secretly working out? Why does that brat seem so much sturdier?"
After years of trial and effort by his aunt,
Delicious Chinese Restaurant had settled on targeting low- and middle-income customers.
While ensuring good value for the money, they did their best to preserve the flavor.
Therefore, most deliveries stayed within a five-kilometer radius.
In just twenty minutes, Rorschach had finished most of the delivery orders.
Most of them were regular customers who could not forget his aunt's cooking after tasting it.
Now, only one dinner-for-two set remained in Rorschach's hands.
Riding his bicycle through several crowded streets, Rorschach arrived at an apartment building that had recently been renovated.
Rorschach walked up to the apartment entrance and found the main door tightly shut, accessible only to residents.
So, he pressed the intercom beside the door.
Rorschach spoke with practiced professionalism:
"Is this Mr. Eugene? Your delivery has arrived. Could you please come downstairs to pick it up..."
"Damn it! 403! Bring it up!"
Before long, a slurred male voice came through the intercom.
Then, accompanied by a pleasant chime, the tightly shut apartment door opened.
"If you don't open the door, how the hell am I supposed to deliver it..."
Rorschach shook his head and sighed.
Based on past experience alone, he easily guessed that this customer was already drunk.
But in the service industry, you did not get to choose your customers.
Rorschach shrugged helplessly.
Carrying the takeout container unsteadily, he entered the apartment building.
Knock, knock, knock!
Not long after, Rorschach knocked on the door of apartment 403.
Accompanied by the sound of footsteps, the door flew open.
A foul stench of alcohol mixed with the odor of weed immediately hit him in the face.
Even the well-traveled Rorschach could not help frowning.
"Your delivery, sir."
Rorschach did his best to maintain his professional smile as he took the food from the container.
"Burp... Thanks."
A blond man with bleary eyes behind the door reached out, took the food, and prepared to shut the door casually.
Smack!
However, Rorschach's palm suddenly pressed against the door.
Forcibly interrupting the man's movement!
"Sir, this delivery is cash on delivery. You haven't paid yet."
Rorschach explained with a smile.
The blond man clearly froze for a moment, continuously shaking his head to stay awake.
Then he turned and shouted into the room:
"Hey, Eugene! Come pay for this!"
"Pay? Pay for what? I need to pay to eat takeout?"
Before long, a tall, swaying figure came to the door.
He roughly shoved aside the bleary-eyed blond man.
His eyes were bloodshot, and he glared at Rorschach with a vicious expression as he threatened:
"Hey, kid, you'd better get the hell out of here..."
Rorschach instinctively narrowed his eyes.
Without any hurry, he took his phone from his pocket.
After tapping it a few times, he showed it to the bald, muscular man.
"Eugene Paul, if you refuse to pay, I'll call the police to settle this."
"How do you know my name?" The bald, muscular man's eyes widened. "Who sent you?!"
Clearly, under the combined effects of alcohol and weed, the bald man's thoughts were filled with confusion.
"Kid, you look kind of familiar..."
After carefully examining the figure in front of him for several moments, the bald man looked suspicious.
"Rorschach?"
Eugene Paul, the former school bully at Rorschach's high school.
The Reason Why he was former was because he had been expelled from school.
"The dinner-for-two set is fifty dollars, and the delivery fee is ten..."
Rorschach did not intend to waste time with a drunk Eugene, especially since they had never had any relationship.
"That's sixty dollars total. Thank you for your business."
"Y-Your delivery was late!"
Eugene's expression shifted repeatedly before suddenly darkening.
"I've been waiting for over an hour!"
"Eugene."
At that moment, Rorschach could not help sighing. He looked at the other man with a sincere expression.
"It's just takeout. If you're having trouble getting by, I can treat you to it..."
"But right now, you're obviously just looking for some fun, aren't you?"
Rorschach narrowed his eyes and instinctively rolled his neck.
His lowered hand curled slightly, his fingertips flexing back and forth.
This was the opening stance of the Catachan Fighting Style—concealed and deadly.
"I'm not going to pay. What are you going to do about it? Call the cops, shorty?"
The burly Eugene suddenly grinned, his expression ferocious.
Even his muscular shoulders swayed slightly. His entire body had long been poised to act.
He was still the school bully who preyed on boys and girls, without the slightest change.
A minute earlier, when Eugene realized that the deliveryman was actually a high school classmate,
the alcohol had gone to his head, and he had never intended to let the other man leave!
He hated that school beyond measure!
He also hated those hypocritical good students beyond measure!
And right in front of him was a perfectly suitable human punching bag...
Before you continue