Chapter 22: Mother and Daughter

When Vanessa arrived, she saw houses along the street lit up, figures standing behind windows, and Fiona's house with its door wide open, guarded by a gang.

"This way." Roger stood outside specifically to ensure the female journalist wouldn't get lost.

Vanessa wore a fully covered black tracksuit; her once-elegant curls were tied up and hidden beneath a hood. Her hands were tucked in her pockets, as if gripping some weapon.

"These people?" Vanessa glanced warily around and quickly approached Roger, the only person she knew.

"All local gang members, but it's fine—I've already gotten to know them well."

As he spoke, a twenty-something gang member stepped out from inside. Upon seeing Roger, he willingly extended his fist.

"Hey, buddy, awesome."

After bumping fists, the man pulled Roger close, laughing and praising him.

Roger smiled warmly and gripped the man's hand tightly.

Soon after, the Black youth left.

"What exactly did you do?" Vanessa hadn't fully understood the situation over the phone; she only knew Roger had caught the serial killer.

Roger opened the door first: "You'll understand when you see it for yourself."

Vanessa stepped into the warm yellow living room and immediately saw three men bound together, being punched by Robbie.

"Stop, Robbie." Fiona sat nearby; Natasha's figure was gone.

Robbie knocked the bald man to the ground with a punch, sneering: "Fuck, you three pieces of shit are dead."

"I called the police, Robbie," Fiona said. "Let the cops handle these three."

Robbie frowned: "Why? Fiona, you could've handed them over to me—I'd have had them buried alive."

Fiona shook her head: "This isn't just about me. Others were hurt too. If you kill them, what happens to their families?"

As she spoke, she spotted Vanessa.

"The reporter's here already. Police are on their way. Robbie, go home."

Robbie was disgruntled but chose to follow Mrs. Fiona's advice.

He lowered his head, not looking at Vanessa once, but as he passed Roger, he extended his hand: "Buddy, I don't like you much, but you did good. The neighborhood'll always welcome you."

"Thanks." Roger nodded.

Soon after, the gang members left the house.

Vanessa took photos, then began questioning Mrs. Fiona about the details.

When she learned Roger had taken down three large men alone, she couldn't help but open her mouth slightly, staring at him in astonishment.

"I only took down two. The other one was stopped by Juan."

"Still incredible," Vanessa's gaze toward Roger seemed to shift.

She continued asking Fiona for details of the incident.

At that moment, the brown-haired man in the center suddenly began trembling. Like an epileptic seizure, he collapsed to the floor within seconds, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling back.

"What's going on?"

Everyone present was startled.

Soon, the brown-haired man appeared to be barely breathing.

The other two men lay on the ground like dead dogs, utterly unresponsive.

"Did he die?" Vanessa had never faced death directly before; it felt unreal.

"Looks like he overdosed," Fiona seemed familiar with this: "Alcohol, drugs, intense exertion, heart palpitations—if the doctor doesn't arrive soon, he's dead."

No sooner had she finished speaking than the wail of police sirens echoed from down the street.

…

For the next half-day, Roger, Fiona, and Natasha were taken to the police station as witnesses.

After explaining the events once to the hostile police, Roger was released.

Fiona hadn't emerged yet; only Natasha sat alone, legs propped up on the chair.

"How are you?" Roger sat beside her.

Natasha tilted her head slightly, resting it on the man's shoulder: "Thank you. If not for you, I'd be finished."

She was now awake, but the hazy images from her memory still lingered in her mind.

She had been bound and gagged, watching as the criminal reached for his clothes—when voices from outside saved her.

Then Roger had heroically kicked open the door and carried her out of the room.

For a sixteen-year-old girl, nothing could be more romantic.

Thinking of Roger's embrace, Natasha couldn't help brushing her hair aside to hide her reddening ears.

"How can I thank you?" she asked.

Roger hadn't thought so far—he just smiled: "When Mrs. Fiona comes out, just move your head off my shoulder—that's thanks enough."

"Thump." Natasha lightly punched him: "Do you hate me that much?"

"Not at all," Roger said, seeing the girl's anger. "I just want to avoid unnecessary trouble."

God above!

He had no interest in a minor, and even if he did, he'd go for someone like Zoe—with more to offer.

But Natasha, hearing this, thought to herself: So he doesn't hate me—he just doesn't want Mom to see.

Seeing the girl had no intention of moving her head from his shoulder, Roger turned his gaze to the System Panel.

First, his status had dropped back to the edge of the Rift due to SAN Value loss.

Second, the number of potential Anchor Points had increased.

【Current Anchor Points: 3/5】

【Currently Developable Anchor Points: Fiona, Natasha】

Although a new Anchor Point had emerged for development, Roger had no idea what to do about it.

Did he have to go to Fiona's house every day to help with housework?

And what about Natasha?

Roger rubbed his temples and turned his gaze back to the new skill description.

【Camouflage】

【Skill Description: It may not turn you into 007, but it will let you navigate different crowds with ease】

【Skill Effect: You can mimic various accents and use different props and cosmetics to disguise yourself, lowering others' guard】

Looking at the skill's description, Roger stroked his chin, thinking this skill was quite useful.

He wondered whether he could disguise himself as a person of color.

Just then, Fiona emerged, accompanied by police officers.

Roger nudged Natasha, telling her to get up.

But Mrs. Fiona didn't mind; she simply embraced Roger deeply as he rose.

"Thank you, Roger. I must say letting you live in the garage was the best decision of my life."

Her voice trembled slightly: "If not for you, I would have lost everything. Child, thank God you were sent to me."

Then Mrs. Fiona looked earnestly into the man's eyes: "I must repay you. You may ask for anything—I will grant it all."

Hearing this, Roger asked: "Can I continue living in the garage?"