What Is Deja Vu?

Having dealt with Big Slick, Russell dropped onto the floor and rested, gasping for breath. He had been so focused before that he had not felt anything, but now he realized he had narrowly escaped death several times. His hands and feet trembled so badly that he did not even notice the system's two notifications.

Glancing at Big Slick's gradually cooling body, Russell suppressed his discomfort and fixed his eyes on the corpse. It was not to overcome his fear or nausea. Back at the police academy, his instructor had taught him to look at corpses whenever he could, to maintain a sense of awe toward death and avoid becoming completely numb to it and turning into a total psychopath.

Russell had once thought his instructor made sense, but after personally ending a life today and then staring at the corpse, he increasingly felt that his instructor was the real psychopath!

Once Russell's heartbeat returned to normal, he slowly stood up. The special combat memories carried by Subway Police and the impressions from Firearms Mastery had already faded from his mind. It was not as if nothing remained—if he thought deeply enough, he could still uncover traces of them—but they were too vague, even hazier than a drunken blackout.

"Magical cards. Rather than saying I equipped a Character Card, it would be more accurate to say I activated a learning skill..."

It did not matter if he could not remember. Russell believed that after practicing a few more times, he would find the feeling again. Even if 90% of the memories were lost, he would still come out ahead with the remaining 10%.

Russell rolled up his sleeve and looked at the bruises on his arm. The injuries he had suffered while equipping the Character Card were still there. That crushed his unrealistic fantasy. He had previously thought that equipping a Character Card was equivalent to gaining an extra life.

Now, though...

It was not entirely impossible. He still had Bolt's Character Card to equip. If he died once and tried it, he could verify his theory with absolute certainty.

Russell rubbed his chin and hesitated. "How about... giving it a try!?"

"Ring-ring-ring~~~ Ring-ring-ring~~~ Ring-ring-ring~~~"

An urgent ringtone came from Bearded Man's pants pocket, interrupting Russell's suicidal thoughts. He could not be bothered with it at first, but after the first round ended and it rang again, he walked over and pulled out the phone.

It was an old slide phone with a strong retro feel. The incoming call had no saved name, only an unfamiliar number.

Russell answered. A slightly suppressed, hoarse voice came from the other end. "I saw everything. Your performance exceeded my expectations. Honestly, you surprised me."

Russell frowned and glanced at the black cross on the floor before silently moving into the corner to hide. "Who are you?"

If he was not mistaken, the person on the other end was Cross. However, Russell had no memories connected to him, so he simply pretended not to know him.

"You're very calm. That's good, but I have to remind you that three police cars are heading toward your location from two blocks away. If you don't have a good lawyer, you'd better leave quickly."

Only then did Russell realize that his situation was not safe. Just as he was preparing to leave, Cross's voice came through the phone again.

"I left a gray pickup in the ground-level parking lot. The license plate is 404. The doors are unlocked, and the keys are in the car. You should know how to operate it. Leave there. I'll come find you..."

The call ended. Russell stuffed the phone into his pocket with a conflicted expression. The third mission world was probably connected to Cross. Though he hated assassins, he could only accept it and push forward.

Getting down from the top floor of a sixty-story building on two legs was definitely out of the question. Even with Russell's long-distance running skill, he had no desire to put himself through that kind of torture. The police would arrive soon, so he chose the elevator. It would likely capture his face on surveillance cameras, but he had no choice. Besides, he was certain his face had already appeared on camera before he reached the top floor. Otherwise, how could anyone explain a living person appearing there out of thin air?

Inside the elevator, Russell was covered in dust from the fight. Combined with the construction worker's jacket, he inevitably drew looks of disgust from the others. Especially from several blonde, blue-eyed White-Collar Women—their expressions seemed to carry a hint of racial discrimination as well.

As a proud descendant of Yan and Huang who took pride in his country and people, Russell could not stand their looks. He immediately glared at them viciously and threatened, "What are you looking at? Keep staring and I'll blow your heads off! Assiba!"

The White-Collar Women instantly went pale. Perhaps because he had just killed someone, the murderous aura around Russell had not yet faded. When he glared, he really was terrifying.

After leaving the elevator, Russell headed straight for the outdoor parking lot. As he passed the entrance, the city police finally arrived. Russell slipped past them with an innocent expression, and no meaningful eye contact occurred.

Following the bizarre license plate number, Russell found the gray pickup: a Ford F-150, the famous Ford Raptor. The vehicle sold extremely well in America and was everywhere, practically a symbol of the country.

In China, the Ford Raptor was considered a luxury vehicle due to import costs and its terrifying fuel consumption. But in America, it was little more than a farm tractor, on the same level as a Wuling Hongguang in China. You could get one for twenty-five to fifty thousand dollars, or even less if you haggled.

Just as Cross had said, the doors were unlocked and the keys were in the vehicle. Russell fastened his seat belt, started the car, released the handbrake, and drove out of the parking lot.

Host is driving a Ford F-150, triggering the Lottery Draw. Draw now?

Host has accumulated three Lottery Draws. Draw now?

Russell ignored the system and drove on. American cars, like Chinese cars, had left-hand steering wheels, and traffic drove on the right, so nothing felt awkward. Thanks to English Mastery, Russell navigated the unfamiliar city without issue, but as he drove, he suddenly realized a problem.

"Where should I go next?"

From Bearded Man's conversation, Russell had deduced that he had an identity in this world. The problem was that he had no corresponding memories. He did not even have a Driver's License in his pocket and had no idea where to go.

In America, not having a Driver's License was far more serious than failing to carry an ID card in China. If the police pulled him over and questioned him, Russell would not be able to produce a license. If he made even the slightest uncooperative move, he could be shot dead on the spot at any moment.

To be safe, Russell parked at the entrance of an alley. After locking the doors, he began searching through the car. There were five sets of clean jackets, baseball caps, and sweatpants in the back seat. They had clearly been prepared by Cross.

After changing clothes, Russell tidied up his dusty appearance in the rearview mirror. Once he looked refreshed, he silently opened the system interface and began his three consecutive luck-based draws.

It was the ever-popular Lottery Draw. He needed some skills and Character Cards to arm himself, so he could not help feeling a little expectant. Based on the system's previous notification records, two draws had been related to his contact with Big Slick, while one had been triggered by touching the Ford F-150.

After the three draws ended, three new cards had been added to Russell's equipment list.

Item Card: M9 (Who needs a Desert Eagle? Who needs unlimited bullets? This is all you need.)

Skill Card: Bullet Time (From a scientific perspective, all objectively existing things can be explained.)

Character Card: BABY (Deja Vu)

Obviously, the first two draw results were related to Big Slick, while the third... Russell had no idea who BABY was. Was it that guy who got cut out of pictures?

And... what exactly did "Deja Vu" mean?

As a rookie still in his probationary period, Russell did not really understand. He could only guess that this character was related to driving vehicles.

The Skill Card Bullet Time was great, but Russell did not use it immediately. If it was a one-time skill, that would be a huge loss. A good weapon had to be saved for the right moment. The third mission world would be dangerous, and Bullet Time was a life-saving trump card that could not be wasted lightly.

After reviewing his equipment list again, Russell thought for a moment and took out a bottle of Medicated Alcohol. He had suffered bruises in the fight, and several spots on his body had turned purple. Even the slightest movement hurt like hell.

To be honest, compared to Medicated Alcohol, Russell wanted Yunnan Baiyao more right now. For bruises and sprains less than twenty-four hours old, Medicated Alcohol was not suitable.

As he rubbed the bruise on his elbow, Russell marveled at the Medicated Alcohol provided by the system. Once you had a system, you should stop talking about what was reasonable. The effects were outstanding. The bruise faded at a visible rate, and his joint grew slightly warm, which felt very comfortable.

During this time, Russell figured out the rules for using Item Cards. They differed from Character Cards and Skill Cards. Once an Item Card was used, it had no time limit, but it could not be taken out of the current world afterward.

Bang! Bang! Bang!!

Someone knocked on the driver's side window. It was a grinning Black Youth. When he saw Russell turn around, he immediately flashed a smile full of goodwill. "Hey, brother, do you know what time it is?"

Russell swept his gaze over the area. Behind the Black Youth stood several others dressed just as flashily. Their shady appearance marked them as Hoodlums.

Money had arrived!

Russell immediately returned a polite smile. "Of course I do!"

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