Reborn: The Rookie Detective

How to make a reserved man talkative? The method is simple: give him a bottle of wine and a pretty girl. Jack had two, so when he realized it, it was already midnight.

After very gentlemanly escorting the two sisters back to sleep, Jack packed his things, crawled into his tent, and used a healing spell to relieve his mild drunkenness.

It was still early before dawn, so he opened his skill list and glanced at it. His Russian skill progress bar was almost up to proficiency. It seemed that after the system upgrade, skill upgrades were indeed more focused on practical experience.

Jack crawled into his sleeping bag, thinking about whether to open his phone and find a Russian drama or movie to watch and upgrade his skill in one go, when he suddenly sensed some subtle movements around him.

He reached for the FK 7.5mm he had hidden next to his sleeping bag, and was about to pounce when the tent zipper was gently pulled open. In the clear moonlight, a beautiful figure slipped in.

"Talia?"

Before the surprised words could even finish, Talia, wrapped in her bathrobe, pulled the tent shut again. The moonlight disappeared.

The moment Jack exclaimed inwardly, a slightly cool, full-figured body squeezed into his sleeping bag.

As everyone knows, the temperature difference between day and night in the desert is extreme. It was already midnight, and the outside temperature had dropped to near 0 degrees Celsius. Even Russian girls who are used to winter swimming would feel the cold.

Just as the two were struggling to resist the cold, the tent zipper was gently pulled open again.

"Ah? Natasha?"

Waking up in the morning, feeling the warm, smooth touch against his chest and back, Jack let out a barely perceptible sigh. He should buy a more waterproof sleeping bag next time. The two sisters were exhausted from trying to keep warm together last night. Even though Jack crawled out of his sleeping bag, he didn't wake them. They just murmured a few words and hugged each other.

The scene was beautiful.

Jack took out his phone and recorded the sunrise over the desert. After washing up, he started cooking porridge.

When the porridge was almost done, he cut the last two steaks into thin strips, threw them into the pot, turned off the heat, and let the residual heat cook the meat. He then sprinkled in a little white pepper and salt, making it incredibly delicious.

Jack ate half the pot by himself; he had exhausted himself and desperately needed to replenish his energy.

The aroma of the beef porridge awakened the two sisters. Natasha and Talia, wrapped in their bathrobes, came out of Jack's tent one after the other, hurriedly scrambling into their own tents to dress and wash, drawing a chorus of exclamations from afar.

When they emerged from their tents again, Jack beckoned the two sisters to come and have breakfast. They kissed him on the cheeks, laughing and playfully scrambling for kisses, just like the night before.

Before saying goodbye to the sisters, Jack didn't forget to remind them of his discovery from the previous day, mainly about his suspicion that the two men were members of the Chinatown gang.

Natasha happily gave him a kiss in thanks, assuring him that their father would handle these little troubles.

From the snippets of conversation last night, Jack could roughly guess that the two sisters might have some diplomatic background; the guns they carried spoke volumes. So, he simply offered a brief reminder and then stopped worrying.

Watching the burgundy GMC Sierra pickup truck disappear into the distance, kicking up dust, Jack packed his things, and with it, his mood. The sisters hadn't asked for his contact information the entire time, leaving him with a strange sense of melancholy.

Perhaps men are just like that; if he had their contact information, he'd worry about future entanglements.

With a clatter, a delicate silver flask fell to the ground as Jack packed up his sleeping bag. He quickly picked it up, a small smile involuntarily spreading across his face.

The Firebird sports car sped off again. One hand gripped the steering wheel, the other extended out the window, feeling the wind through his palm, his mind still immersed in the pleasant memories of the previous night.

Today's journey was smooth. It was Jack's first time driving out of California, crossing the Colorado River, and entering Arizona.

If he were to drive north along the Colorado River now, he would probably reach the legendary Hoover Dam in about 130 kilometers.

But he didn't bother taking that long detour; after all, he had visited the Kurobe Dam in his previous life.

After passing through the famous Phoenix, he drove for less than two hours, arriving in Tucson before sunset.

After stocking up on meat, vegetables, and fruits at a supermarket in the city center, he checked into a decent-looking hotel.

Jack didn't want to choose cheap motels, not because he was worried about his personal safety, but because he was concerned about the safety of his belongings. He had too much stuff in his car, and moving it around would be too much trouble.

He planned a trip of about 10 days, choosing to stay in cities rather than towns each day to avoid trouble as much as possible.

Advanced electronic anti-theft technology might stop car thieves, but it wouldn't stop drug addicts and drunkards who smash car windows in a fit of rage. Sometimes, these people might smash up an expensive car just because they wanted a pack of cigarettes inside. If that happened, the local police wouldn't offer help just because he was a colleague from LA; more likely, they'd give him a stern warning to stay out of trouble and leave their jurisdiction immediately.

The federal system of the United States makes leaving a state as troublesome as leaving a country. Although no passport or customs is required, each state has its own laws.

Take the handgun Jack carries, for example. A California gun license isn't necessarily recognized in other states, and each state has its own gun laws, with varying regulations regarding models and especially magazine capacity. If he gets into trouble, he'll have to ask Justine for help.

This is one of the reasons Jack wants to join the FBI; with a federal police identity, as long as he's not carrying a rocket launcher, local police are unlikely to bother him.

Tucson is Arizona's second-largest city after Phoenix. A large part of Arizona is desert and Gobi, a typical sparsely populated area.

So Tucson's total population is only about 500,000, and the metropolitan area has less than 100,000. But with such a small population, when Jack put his luggage in the hotel and wanted to drive out to find some local restaurants, he saw prostitutes everywhere.

Almost every time Jack slowed down to look at the restaurant signs, scantily clad, heavily made-up women would hold up two fingers to him.

This reminded Jack of another city he had seen on a certain website in his past life. Almost immediately, a catchy little tune started playing in his ears.