Psychological Control

Chapter 65

After talking to the bau team, there wasn't much else to do when I got home, so I just made a new video and uploaded it to my own oil tube channel. It hadn't been updated for a month, but the hits came up quickly because the heat from before hadn't worn off.

And after that the police department didn't call me back to cooperate with the investigation, and luckily the pre-booked flight didn't have to be rescheduled. After a few hours of flying, my plane landed at Miami airport. After holding my legs in for so long, I was finally able to move them a bit.

As the survivor's bonus had not yet come down and I had no money for a more comfortable seat, both legs were inhumanely fixed in a small space for quite some time. After getting off the plane, I first took a taxi to Mrs Nam's house. The previous house, Mrs South East, was the same old lady who had recommended that I channel a fake permit.

She helped me a lot, not out of interest but out of friendship, and although I couldn't understand the reasons why she would do that, I intentionally maintained a relationship with her. Since this was the case it was only logical to go and say hello to her first when I returned.

I spent the afternoon chatting with Mrs Nan and drinking afternoon tea in her small garden before finally saying goodbye. Because next I had to go and find, Dillon who I had previously agreed to keep in touch with after the race. We'd been in touch by text message before and I'd declined his offer to pick him up because I had to visit Mrs Nan first. He then sent over his address afterwards.

It was still a taxi, although more expensive, but it was the only way I could move easily with a suitcase of luggage. After giving the driver the address in my phone, I watched him drive in the direction given on the navigation. Although I always remembered that the address Dillon had given me, that road didn't seem to be a residential area.

I sat in the car in stop-and-go traffic after talking to Mrs. Nan in the afternoon just as it was the end of the workday, and it took me an hour to get to that road. I watched as the driver pulled over and he pointed me to the shop across the road to indicate that we were there.

...I did remember correctly that this was the shopping street. And across the street, in a place whose door number didn't differ in any way from the address Dillon had given me, was a gun shop! With the driver eyeing my luggage eerily, I stiffly paid and dragged my suitcase across the road towards the gun shop facade.

"Ding ding ding ding" the bell rang at the front of the shop as I pushed the door open and walked in. I stood in the middle of the shop with my luggage in tow, looking around at the various guns hanging on the four walls of the shop and the assortment of pistols and ammunition in the glass case inside the counter.

Finally, a moment later, footsteps came from the curtain behind the counter, and then a familiar face peeked out.

Dillon, dressed in a very different feel to the military uniform he had worn in Survivor, his high-collared black jersey fitting snugly and revealing the muscular curves of his body. The beard that he had previously grown because he had no tools in Survivor had been shaved off, and his whole demeanour was cleaned up.

Even because of that outfit, it brought an air of languid homeliness, presenting a starkly contrasting sensuality to those cold guns around him.

He looked up and saw me, and although nothing had changed in his expression, I could see the look of surprise in his eyes. "Brian? What brings you here, I thought you'd have told me in advance."

"Did I bother you." I smiled in response, "I didn't even know you had a shop like this. I said I'd be staying at your place, so you're staying there?"