LRAB Page 461
Page 461
"Pfft—Boom!"
Rick simply strapped the backpack to his back and pressed the button.
The next moment, the backpack spewed out a burst of flames mixed with yellow mustard and black smoke, propelling him erratically but at an incredible speed towards Broadway.
The great scientist left a strange trail of yellow smoke in the sky. Just as Rick's figure, wreathed in wasabi flames, disappeared into the horizon, on the rooftop of the high-rise, the air distorted slightly, and Ian's figure slowly materialized again. He frowned, brushed off non-existent dust from his clothes, his eyes fixed intently on the silent trash can.
How did you get in there?
Ian really wants to learn this skill.
He stepped forward to examine it.
however.
He was just one step away from the trash can.
"Pfft!!!"
The trash can lid was suddenly kicked open!
A huge, inflatable balloon with distorted and exaggerated Rick's head suddenly popped out, its enormous mouth gaping open and emitting a piercing, pre-recorded laugh.
"Jie Jie Jie Jie~"
The voice sounded pure. Then, the balloon Rick's mouth suddenly opened wide, and a thick, infuriatingly strong yellow stench, a mixture of rotten eggs, expired cheese, sulfur, and some kind of alien excrement, sprayed precisely into Ian's face like a high-pressure water jet!
It's commonly known as being overwhelmed by the stench of farts.
"Damn it! I knew it!" The giant Rick balloon was farting wildly at Ian, making Ian furious and causing him to flee in terror, disappearing without a trace.
All that remained was that lingering, foul-smelling yellow cloud of gas, and Rick's balloon, still emitting a strange laugh.
The balloon laughed for a while before slowly deflating and shrinking back into the trash can. The rooftop returned to silence, only the eerie smell remaining as evidence of what had just happened.
……
Night gradually fell.
In the metropolis, in the city center square, light pollution is everywhere. The square is brightly lit at night, but pedestrians are becoming increasingly scarce. The enormous Superman statue casts a long shadow under the lights.
"Why aren't they here yet?"
Sam Winchester paced anxiously, carrying a heavy backpack crammed with various exorcism tools he thought he might need, glancing up every now and then. He had been waiting there for almost an hour. The time he had agreed to meet Ian had long passed, and he hadn't seen a soul in sight.
"Damn it...I hope he didn't stand me up again..."
Sam was filled with unease, his heart pounding. Ian had agreed, but the guy's reliability was highly questionable; he was probably already fast asleep at home.
"Am I really going to pawn my soul in that place?" Just as Sam was about to give up hope, a figure slowly walked over from the other side of the square.
He was a tall, thin boy.
He doesn't look very old.
However, he was wearing glasses that were inappropriate for his age at such a young age.
He was still wearing a regular hoodie and jeans, his expression hesitant, even avoiding Sam's eyes. He walked slowly to Sam, as if he had made up his mind, and spoke softly.
"Excuse me...are you Sam Winchester?" Politeness, and more politeness. Perhaps it was the glasses on his nose that made the tall, thin boy appear incredibly refined.
Sam was taken aback and looked at the stranger warily.
"I am. Who are you?"
His suspicious expression was undisguised.
The tall, thin boy looked a little embarrassed, but seemed relieved. He still didn't dare to look up, and his voice was a little weak. "Very...very good. Then...let's go."
talking.
He was about to lead the charge.
Sam was even more confused: "Go? Go where?"
The tall, thin boy seemed a little surprised that Sam would ask such a question, and subconsciously answered, "Of course, I'm going to... to save your dad and brother."
His tone seemed to grow increasingly guilty.
"Huh? To save my brother and my father?" Sam was instantly stunned, his pupils contracting sharply. He instinctively took a half-step back, his hand stealthily reaching for the dagger hidden at his back waist. "How do you know about this?! I only told Ian Kent about this! Who are you?!"
He had begun to suspect that the tall, thin boy was a minion of the devil.
"Then what..."
The tall, thin boy felt even more embarrassed.
He hesitated for a moment.
Finally, he opened his mouth and introduced himself.
“I am Ian Kent! It’s just that my magic has run into some problems! For now… for now, it’s like this!” He tried his best to make his tone more certain.
The acting skills I recently learned are finally coming in handy!
Sam squinted, scrutinizing this "Ian".
suddenly.
He seemed to realize something.
"Damn it! Fuck! You're Ian's older brother, right? Jordan Kent!" Sam remembered what Ian had said before, so his mind worked quickly.
He was just about to criticize Ian for lacking martial ethics.
The imposter, who had failed to impersonate Ian Kent, instantly turned bright red, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and hurriedly denied it: "No way! I am Ian Kent!"
"Can't you stop being so stubborn? Come with me!" He was indeed refusing to admit it, but his frantic attempts to change the subject were clearly unconvincing.
“Call me Ian a few more times, and I will be Ian. A name is just a label. You can call me Ian, he can call me Ian, and of course I can call him Ian.”
Jordan pointed to the people on the street, elevating the issue to a philosophical level. There was no other way; he could only be stubborn like that. The second-generation Superman's words wouldn't soften an inch.
Thinking of the adventure that Ian had spent 100,000 words explaining, which was how he risked his life to get color photocopies of the ten out-of-print magazines that he had secretly copied from the Presidential Library.
"Hurry up and leave! If you don't leave now, your father and your brother will be reincarnated as a loving brother and sister."
Jordan knew very well that he couldn't betray his younger brother, who might still be taking a shower. He had to complete this order that Ian had sacrificed himself for, something he had worked so hard to secure.
"..." Sam looked at the boy who couldn't even lie properly, and thought of his unreliable brother, and felt a deep sense of powerlessness wash over him.
The future of this trip to Seattle is uncertain.
Chapter 199 Ian's Scapegoat Log
Metropolitan Plaza at night.
The shadow cast by the Superman statue seemed to carry a hint of helplessness.
It enveloped the two people who were staring at each other in bewilderment.
Sam Winchester, only fourteen or fifteen years old, is used to fighting supernatural creatures, but at this moment he feels a sense of bewilderment he has never felt before.
He looked at the tall, thin boy in front of him who called himself "Ian Kent," but anyone with a brain would know he was Jordan Kent, and didn't know how to make a sarcastic remark.
Now that I think about it, that bastard Ian only gave me photocopies! And only ten copies at that! How many times did he intend to use that to order his own brother around?!
"But that's so mean. He really is the bad boy everyone in school knows." Sam couldn't help but sigh. Compared to Dean, he suddenly realized that although he was always getting tricked by Dean, he was at most just stealing Dean's beer and occasionally breaking his precious Impala windshield wipers. He was definitely a super good younger brother!
"Come on, what are you waiting for?" Jordan urged Sam again when he saw that Sam hadn't moved for a while and was just looking at him with complicated eyes. His voice was very weak.
Despite his outwardly aloof demeanor, he's actually a mental patient with social anxiety disorder, so much so that he's practically digging three bedrooms and a living room out of his shoes with his toes.
no way.
It's because Ian came to him for help.
"Okay, sure." Sam took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
Now that things have come to this, what else can he do? He can no longer count on the help of the real Ian; he can only accept the arrangement made by Ian, that middleman.
“Okay… ‘Ian’…”
Sam deliberately emphasized the title, and Jordan's face showed another moment of embarrassment.
"It's over 4,000 kilometers from here to Seattle, so the fastest way is by plane. Let me check the nearest flights and fares..."
This was Sam's first time planning a long trip on his own. He took out his phone and started checking, his brows gradually furrowing. Plane tickets were no small sum for him; after all, hunters were always strapped for cash, and he and Dean's wallets were usually emptier than their faces. If it weren't for the forged credit card his father had given him, he wouldn't have been able to make this trip.
Although it wasn't his own money, Sam was still young, so a little hesitation was understandable. Just then, when Jordan heard the word "money," his eyes suddenly lit up slightly—a strange gleam that Ian only showed when talking about money, a trait passed down in the Kent family.
“Perhaps…” Jordan pushed up his mismatched glasses, his voice gaining a little more confidence, “I can save you half the cost of your plane ticket.”
Sam looked up in surprise.
"Save half? Does your family have super VIP discounts from airlines?" He wondered if the Kent family might have some kind of ultimate frequent flyer VIP card.
Jordan simply shook his head and mysteriously held out his hand: "No, you'll know once you give me the money. Cash, no credit cards, thank you."
Upon hearing this, Sam was skeptical, but with a "what the heck" attitude, he still counted out the equivalent of an economy class ticket from his already meager wallet and handed it to Jordan.
This was Dean's secret stash of money, which he hid to prevent his mistresses from getting pregnant.
“Not bad, not bad, this money looks pretty new. I can deposit it directly at the ATM.” Jordan took the money, quickly counted it, and stuffed it into his pocket with satisfaction. Then, after looking around to make sure no one was paying attention, he said to Sam, “Wait here for a moment, I’ll go get the transportation ready.”
Jordan's words surprised Sam.
He found it hard to believe; did the Kent family really own a private jet? And was it true that Ian had won a five-hundred-billion-dollar lottery at school?
Under Sam's watchful eye.
Jordan turned and ran toward a large recycling bin in the corner of the square.
He seemed to be looking for something, but he didn't find it.
"?????"
A bewildered Sam was pulled into an alley by Jordan, who returned a few minutes later carrying a huge, seemingly unpacked corrugated cardboard box.
The box also had the logo of a certain brand of washing machine printed on it.
"Alright! Come on up!"
Jordan patted the cardboard box, his tone even carrying a hint of... pride?
Sam looked at the cardboard box, then at Jordan, and felt like he might really be going crazy: "Get...get up? Get where? This cardboard box?"