Bella dodged the crowd and police cars, carrying bags of various sizes, and made her way to the other side of the parking lot to retrieve her vehicle.
Her pickup looked formidable, a necessity in Phoenix, a city with its fair share of loiterers. It was common in the town for a homeless person to scratch a nice car out of spite.
A scratch on a normal car would be just that, but Bella’s Ghost Rider Pickup was different; the Ghost Rider herself could pull those troublemakers inside and end them!
To prevent such incidents, Bella usually parked in a corner, and she had instructed the Ghost Rider to activate its cloaking mode. Except for those on the brink of death, an ordinary person couldn’t see the car hidden there.
This tactic was foolproof; who would wander into a parking lot if they were dying? Normal people couldn’t see the Ghost Rider Pickup without Bella’s permission.
However, today was an exception.
The bloodstains were faint, and only those with significant vision and smell could detect them.
Bella looked around and sighed.
Trouble followed her everywhere; Natasha’s bad luck must have influenced her!
Opening the car door, she found the Ghost Rider sitting in the passenger seat, dressed in a white dress, with a bloodied man lying in the back seat.
This man was the middle-aged cashier from the convenience store, who had smartly hidden behind her and ended up getting shot three times.
He was near death; otherwise, no one could see the Ghost Rider Pickup in its cloaked state under normal conditions.
“What’s going on here?” Bella asked the ghost.
Ever since the Ghost Rider had absorbed the spirit of another ghost vehicle, her spectral form had stabilized significantly, regaining some memories and thought processes, occasionally showing emotions like anger, frustration, and confusion.
“Take me home.”
Bella sensed the emotions in the spiritual energy: “Are you saying this guy is your friend? You know him?”
The Ghost Rider considered this momentarily: “Take me home.”
“Oh! So you don’t know him. That makes things easier.”
The middle-aged man’s identity was suspicious, and Bella didn’t want to get involved, but she was curious.
She examined his wallet, which contained several notes and about four or five IDs.
Christopher Da Silva’s driver’s license was in English, which seemed like a fake name. The other documents weren’t in English, with one appearing in Russian.
The middle-aged man was delighted, having been shot in the shoulder, chest, and abdomen, and was covered in blood, close to death.
Bella gently tapped his shoulder.
“Comrade, vodka?”
No response.
“Comrade, Borshch?”
Still no response.
“Ura!”
After shouting, Bella gave up, having only recently learned these three Russian phrases.
“Comrade, I’m sorry to involve you, but unfortunately, I can’t heal you. It’s too late for research; you’re just going to have to wait for death, goodbye!”
Bella grabbed the middle-aged man by the collar, pulled him out of the back seat, and dropped him on the ground.
As she turned to leave, the middle-aged man suddenly grabbed her ankle.
“Save me! Save me! I’m an MI6 agent, code name 006. I know important information; I have value!”
His survival instincts were strong, repeatedly crying out in English.
Bella pried his fingers loose; under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have her strength, let alone now when he was severely injured. However, the middle-aged man was persistent, unwilling to let go of any straw, and repeatedly prying and grabbing.
After three attempts, his strength was completely drained, and his bloodied right hand reached towards the air, trying to grasp at the last vestige of hope.
The middle-aged man’s strong will to survive truly shook Bella; she felt she’d have given up by now if it were her in his place.
“You grabbing me is useless; how should I treat a gunshot wound? I don’t know how!” She scratched her head, regretting she couldn’t conjure a healing spell.
“Take me home.” The elusive Ghost Rider pointed at the middle-aged man.
Bella frowned: “You mean you know battlefield first aid?”
“Take me home.”
“If that’s what you say, okay, I’ll make another trip to get some first aid supplies.”
Finding the necessary supplies urgently was difficult, but Bella thought of Dr. Brandon from the jury. His clinic wasn’t far from the parking lot, and under the influence of a previous spell, she quickly got his first aid kit.
The Ghost Rider Pickup left no stains; the vehicle automatically absorbed any blood spilled. Bella laid 006 down in the back seat and, under the guidance of the Ghost Rider, began administering first aid.
“Take me home.”
“OK, OK.” Bella poured alcohol on 006’s wounds, then sterile
Sized a scalpel, dug into the wound, and tried to remove the bullet. But after a long search, she found nothing.
“Take me home.”
“What? The bullet didn’t stay in the body; it went straight through. Why didn’t you say so earlier? You made me dig around for nothing.”
“Take me home.”
“You don’t like how I stitched it up? Please! A high school student doing emergency first aid with bloody hands is already impressive! You’re just complaining without understanding; let’s ask the patient. Hey! Does my stitching look good? He didn’t say a word, which means he thinks it’s fine!”
Several injections Bella couldn’t name were administered to 006 to maintain his bodily functions, followed by cleaning the wounds, stitching, and transfusing blood.
The entire process took less than half an hour. It was rough, but the man seemed to be saved on the surface.
However, being treated inside the Ghost Rider Pickup was bound to leave some side effects. The vehicle’s negative energy was substantial, and while normal people would be fine, someone like 006, who was near death, might retain some issues due to the accumulation of negative energy.
Bella and the Ghost Rider pondered for a while, thinking that soon, 006 might exhibit symptoms like seizures, dizziness, insufficient blood supply to the brain, or perhaps even awakened abilities like the yin-yang eyes; all these were normal occurrences. If there were more issues, he should seek a hospital.
006 had lost too much blood and had already passed out. Bella couldn’t just leave him in the parking lot to die. She decided to provide a relatively warm place for him to rest.
“Take me home.”
“OK, OK! Home first, then!” Bella tossed 006 into the back seat and drove the pickup out of the parking lot.
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