His second trip into a movie had been two years ago, into an obscure, low-budget zombie film that even Nick had never seen. His mission had been to head into zombie-besieged Barcelona and rescue a trapped married couple.
It sounded like another impossible mission, and, unsurprisingly, Nick had failed again, though this time he had successfully survived to the end of the plot.
But when he entered the city with his unit as a Spanish special forces soldier, painstakingly cleared the zombies around an apartment building, and entered the target apartment, what he found in the bathroom was a loving couple with their hands and feet chained together, both already fully turned.
His reward this time had also been a passive skill-"Lightning Reflexes," which improved Nick's reaction speed.
Perhaps it was not as exaggerated as Spider-Man's, but setting physique aside, his reaction speed alone should have been enough to trade blows with Captain America, who could hold his own against just about anyone.
America had once had a famous quick-draw shooter named Bob Munden, who could supposedly complete the entire sequence of drawing, firing, and holstering his gun in 0.2 seconds-a true master of American iaido.
Nick was not particularly fond of revolvers, but after acquiring this skill, he had practiced a little in private. His best result had been firing six shots from a single-action Colt revolver in 0.9 seconds, with every shot hitting the target.
As for close-quarters combat, he had already been without a match in the entire Portland Police Bureau. After all, back when he served in the PLA in his previous life, every man who could get into his mess squad had been a hidden master.
Back then, Nick had not only been a good shot, but also one of the best sanda fighters in the entire military region. After being reborn, he had consciously trained his body from the age of six, and the muscle definition that could leave beautiful women staring until they walked into trees was the best proof.
For now, though, Portland was still a city that ranked quite well nationwide for public safety. It would not be until ten years later, when the Oregon legislature passed the infamous Measure 110, that the "City of Roses" would rapidly degenerate into a paradise for drug users and the homeless.
The so-called Measure 110 was essentially drug decriminalization. Broadly speaking, possessing or using drugs was not a crime, but selling and manufacturing them still was.
Nick did not know whether this world would follow the same course as his previous one, but the moment he heard that a similar measure had passed, he would certainly resign without hesitation, sell his property, and leave this supposedly most diverse city in America at the first opportunity.
He had now been a patrol officer with the PPB for over three years and had never encountered a situation that required him to use a firearm. The occasional public-order incident could easily be handled with a dose of pepper spray; he rarely even used his Taser gun.
PPB officers primarily carried the Glock 22, chambered in .40 S&W. The one on his hip could rightly be called a "benevolent gun"-it had never been fired anywhere outside a shooting range.
Today was another quiet day. Since his current partner had been reassigned to train a rookie, Nick was patrolling alone. He had thought that, by the usual superstitious logic, something would go wrong on his last day on patrol, but he ended up spending the entire morning simply driving around the city.
After ordering roast goose over rice for lunch at a Cantonese restaurant in Chinatown, he was just about to pick up his radio and contact dispatch to change his status and resume patrol when a call came through first.
"All units, radio check. Over."
Hearing the dispatcher's somewhat stiff voice over the radio, Nick promptly pressed the transmit button. "Burkhart-78 responding. Loud and clear."
The female voice on the other end paused for a moment. Seemingly because she had received Nick's response, her previously businesslike tone suddenly softened a little.
"Copy, Burkhart-78. Please respond to a non-emergency illegal parking complaint. Location: Northeast, 2800 block of Alberta Street."
"Copy, 2800 block of Alberta Street. Please provide details." Nick glanced in his rearview mirror, confirmed there were no cars behind him, and turned the wheel to make a U-turn while continuing his inquiry over the radio.
"Copy. The caller owns the property at that address. He reports an unfamiliar white Kia sedan with Oregon plates, license number Tango X-Ray Yankee 584, T-X-Y584, parked across the access lane to a construction site.
The driver refuses to move the vehicle or communicate. The caller would like an officer to attend and issue a ticket. If possible, he is willing to have a tow truck remove the vehicle."
"Understood. Illegally parked vehicle on a private driveway, white Kia sedan, plate T-X-Y584. I'm currently near Chinatown, ETA within five minutes. Please update my status to en route."
As Nick replied, he pressed the accelerator slightly. The Ford Crown Victoria patrol car gave a low growl, and the surging power of its V8 engine instantly sent its speed climbing.
"Copy, Burkhart-78. Status updated to 10-6, busy handling an incident."
The female dispatcher paused, then added, "For additional information, please use the phone channel."
Hearing the hint in that last sentence, Nick resignedly turned the knob, switching the radio to the phone channel used for private conversations, and drawled, "What is it, Leila?"
The dispatcher's voice shed its earlier formal tone and turned sweet and sultry. "So, Mr. July, you'll be coming to the party tonight, right? It's being thrown especially for your promotion to detective."
Nick let out a long sigh. "Leila, we're on duty right now. You know I report to the detectives' office tomorrow. Do you want me getting a warning over something like this on my first day at headquarters?"
"Heh." Leila scoffed. "Don't think I don't know you're sleeping with our supervisor Monica too. Besides, I'll delete the recording of this conversation afterward. Even if she heard it, it wouldn't matter.
Anyway, I'll see you at the Blue Knight tonight. Even if Monica joins in, the first half has to be mine."
The sheer explicitness of her words left Nick momentarily speechless. He instinctively rubbed his lower back and inwardly sighed over the tangled mess he had made.
Men thought with their little heads rather than their big ones, and he was no different. Military life in his previous life had given him fairly disciplined habits, but it had not gone so far as to erase certain natural instincts.
After coming to this world, certain welcome aspects of Western social culture, combined with the hormonal stimulation this body experienced during puberty, had led Nick to spend quite a few years living a rather wild life.
The main thing was that his looks in this life really were excellent. He stood 186 centimeters tall, with long limbs and a well-proportioned build, thick brows, deep-set eyes, black hair, and blue eyes. His jawline was sharply defined without lacking softness, while the faint smile lines beside his nose gave him a slightly boyish look.
On top of that, the strong physique Nick had developed through childhood exercise had given him muscular contours that girls could not keep their hands off. And because a soul from another world resided within him, his eyes always carried a hint of world-weariness. He was simply irresistible to women of every age.
Not only were young girls unable to resist his somewhat precociously mature air, but older women with a little life experience especially loved "hunting" this sort of puppy-eyed young man with a stubborn gaze.
Through high school, college, and even his first year with the PPB, Nick could not be said to have accepted every offer, but he never disappointed the pretty girls either.
Although he had begun reining himself in over the past two years, gradually moving from the pursuit of pure sensory stimulation toward a more spiritual connection, he still had a few regular weekend partners for games between the sheets. Leila from dispatch was one of them.
"Okay, okay, I'll definitely be there. Remember to delete the recording afterward. If Monica hears it, tonight could get a little too lively."
Hearing his tone soften, Leila chuckled on the other end. "You're dying for her to hear it, aren't you? I've actually never tried it with three people. Either way, you're the playboy who ends up getting all the benefits..."
Nick had to give a light cough to cut her off. "I'm almost at the destination. Let's switch back to the public channel."
Before you continue