Car Wash

Daisy had never expected that a casual outing would lead her into this. Who had treated this guy after he was gravely injured? After thinking for a while, she realized there was no such information in her memories.

Before she could figure out what was strange, Frank's breathing beside her grew weaker and weaker. She sensed his heartbeat. Though Daisy had never studied medicine, even she knew his life was entering its final countdown.

She looked all around, but no miracle worker descended from the heavens to save Frank.

"Shouldn't I be the one treating you? This is too strange... Fine, guess you're lucky!" She struggled with herself for a moment. Seeing that Frank was about to breathe his last, she hurriedly pressed a hand to his chest and activated her vibration ability.

Using an extremely light touch, she fed a thread of energy into his heart, helping it begin beating again.

"Ah—" Frank abruptly sat up as if by reflex, but his body was far too weak and the movement had been too violent. He made it halfway up, then fell back down again.

Blood gushed out as though it were free.

Daisy was utterly speechless. This guy's reflexes were too fast, and her treatment method had been a bit too forceful...

Seeing Frank pass out again, she was at a complete loss.

Calling an ambulance was obviously not the best option. The people targeting Frank had serious backing. By then, she might fail to save him and get herself dragged into it as well.

She could only treat him herself.

The former washed-up webnovel writer possessed only theoretical knowledge accumulated from reading novels. The original Daisy, however, had spent her school years battling wits with her white classmates and had some basic first-aid experience.

Combining the two meant theory put into practice. Perfect!

She glanced at the ground. Faint bloodstains stretched from inside the park all the way to her car, as if afraid the enemy would not know their target was in it.

Daisy quickly drove away from Central Park, turned into a secluded alley, bought some gauze, alcohol, needles, and thread along the way, then looked up the basic treatment procedures on her laptop and began treating him on the spot.

She disinfected with alcohol, used reverse vibrations to eject the bullets, then stitched the wounds. She was no slower than the most skilled surgeon.

She was fast enough, but her handiwork was truly awful. In the end, she wrapped Frank in gauze until he looked like a rice dumpling.

"Buddy, are you feeling better? Do you have somewhere you want to go? I'll take you there." Her method of waking people up was to slap them hard across the face.

After five or six slaps, he finally came around.

He stared at her blankly, then realized he did not know her.

"I was just passing by. You seemed to be in a bit of trouble, but I can't take you home. Looking like this, you'd scare my roommate to death... Do you have anywhere you can go? I'll take you there?" Daisy said, pointing at herself.

Frank's eyes were vacant, filled with deathly stillness. He seemed to have no attachment to life at all.

Daisy waited several seconds and found that he did not respond.

She could only find a house nearby that had been empty for a long time, vibrate the door lock open, and stagger inside while supporting the future Punisher.

The furnishings inside were old and worn. She had no idea whether the original owner had moved away or died. She placed Frank on the bed, but he still did not say a word.

"We're complete strangers. Helping you this much is enough. Rest and recover on your own from here." As Daisy spoke, she pulled open the door to leave. Her left foot stepped out, then withdrew.

She rummaged through Frank's wallet. Maybe he had spent too many years in the military, but the guy had no concept of money at all. There was not even a single dollar in it.

"...I'm not well-off either. I'll give you two hundred, so don't complain it's too little." Afraid that he would starve himself to death, Daisy painfully took two hundred dollars from all her savings and stuffed it into his wallet.

There was plenty of dust piled up on the floor and tables. In theory, the original owner would not be showing up anytime soon.

Ordinary people needed someone to look after them even when they caught a cold or fever, but Frank did not. With the tough physique honed through hardship on the battlefield, he could recover on his own. He was a true king of soldiers; there was no need for outsiders to worry about him.

Back at her rented apartment, she turned on her computer and began investigating. The internet only recorded that a firefight had taken place in Central Park. Some people had seen several bodies, but who the two sides were and how many casualties there had been remained unknown.

Thinking of the Punisher family's tragic fate, Daisy sighed. She practiced her ability for a while, then went to bed. Stroking her wallet, which had only five hundred dollars left, she was so poor that she could barely sleep.

As she wondered how veteran transmigrators had earned their first pot of gold, she also felt as though she had forgotten something. In the end, she still drifted off in a daze.

The next day, Daisy brushed her teeth, washed her face, and ate bread while waving a fork through the air.

She truly could not think of any business that would make money. There were some software projects in her head that could earn money, but they all required capital—at the very least, labor costs. She did not want to lock herself in a room and spend half a year writing code. That was not the lifestyle she wanted.

As for anything else, she had no clue.

Writing? Harry Potter did not exist in this world, but she felt that even if she copied the original word for word, it might not succeed. Besides, she could not remember the original text.

Drawing comics about the neighboring Superman or Wonder Woman? She did not possess artistic skills either.

She stepped out of her room and opened the car door. The stench of blood inside nearly knocked her over.

She had forgotten last night. She should have washed the car. This car was rented... After an entire night, the smell was simply beyond words.

She had to return the car, but she could not return it like this.

A car full of blood—how was she supposed to explain that if anyone asked?

Daisy scratched her head. After thinking it over, she decided to get the car washed.

She definitely could not go to a legitimate car wash. She could only go to one with gang ties.

Searching her memories, she drove toward a place called Welles Taxi.

This was Russian mob territory. They handled paint jobs, modifications, custom work, car washes, and a whole range of other services.

Daisy covered her face. There was an eighty percent chance of a conflict breaking out. Honestly, she was not worried. If anything, she was faintly excited.

But thinking about weapons gave her a headache. All she had on hand was the anti-wolf stun gun left behind by the original owner. She could not exactly buy a handgun just to wash a car, could she? That would be ridiculous...

Deciding to play it by ear, she drove through Hell's Kitchen, twisting and turning through the streets until she finally entered Russian territory.

It was an underground parking garage. Since it was daytime, there were not many people around.

Two men were talking in the middle of the space. Daisy had seen one of them before: James Wesley, the man who had represented Kingpin in buying up land. He was still dressed in an immaculate suit and wore glasses. His refined appearance stood in stark contrast to the several burly men scattered around him.

A thin man stood opposite him, and the two were arguing about something in low voices. Hearing the sound of an engine, they both turned around in puzzlement.

The thin man gestured for one of his subordinates to go take a look.

A burly man walked up to the car and asked roughly, "What do you want?"

Daisy was a little speechless. Her timing was clearly terrible. She could only say in a hoarse voice, "Car wash!"