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"Holy shit! I saw Batman running down the street. Did I drink too much?"

Delranat Khan shouted.

"No, it really was Batman. He must've taken a lot of drugs!"

Kumar shouted obsequiously.

Even drunk, he was still a fine little lackey.

Indian names could also reveal one's background. Delranat meant sun, while Khan meant khan, indicating ancestry from Afghanistan or Central Asia.

As for Kumar, it meant prince, but usually only people unwilling to let others see their caste would give their child that name.

Huang Kaiwen noticed the modified Bentley Continental. One look told him the driver was fucking drunk.

What he hadn't expected was for them to turn back again.

A head poked out from the passenger seat. Smacking the door hard with one hand, he taunted in curry-scented English, "Hey, clown, I'll give you five hundred pounds. Can you let me see how stupid the head under that helmet is?"

Huang Kaiwen darted over, grabbed him by the collar, and flung him hard, throwing him straight out of the car.

He walked over, opened the door, and sat down. The Indian in the driver's seat immediately raised both hands and obediently got out.

Vroom—

With one stomp on the accelerator, Huang Kaiwen vanished into the night.

Radio X was playing a late-night music program.

The station had previously invited Peter Crouch to co-host, but Crouch was clearly nowhere near as good at talking as Manchester United legends, and the show's reception had been mediocre.

"Hey, night-shift drivers, it's your old friend Allen. Another busy day, huh? At this hour, aside from truck drivers, are you busy folks carrying a girl in your car?"

The radio host joked.

Huang Kaiwen curled his lip.

At this hour, there were loads of drunk and drugged drivers in the United Kingdom.