But...
The results of the test were actually identical to the first test.
Only CPH4 was detected.
As for anything else?
There was none at all. Erin's current physical state was perfectly clean, much like a person who had just walked out of a sterilized room.
However, aside from this point, no other test results indicated that Erin might encounter any kind of crisis.
So after three consecutive test results turned out this way, yesterday, the scientists from the Homeland Security Department took two vials of her blood, expressed their hope that she would maintain contact, and then stopped requiring Erin to go over.
Locke was not surprised by this result at all.
However...
Erin's current immunity to all poisons would actually not last for a very long time. At most, it would be around two years before the bonus effect of the antidote disappeared.
As for S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Locke was quite curious whether S.H.I.E.L.D., after discovering the substance CPH4, would manage to research and develop something interesting out of it.
He was quite looking forward to it.
"There's one, Locke, there's one!"
"Swish!"
On the lower deck, Locke snapped out of his thoughts. With a slight movement of his right hand, another sea fish that bit the hook was pulled up by Locke.
With a thud.
An Atlantic salmon with a somewhat large head detached directly from the hook, landed on the deck, and began to dance around full of vitality.
Gwen's eyes lit up as she looked at Helen.
"Mom, maybe we can make some salmon."
Helen let out a laugh, looking at the three coolers that were already nearly stuffed to capacity. She shook her head and looked at Rebecca beside her.
"Stay for a few more days, otherwise, with so many, I have no place to store them."
These words sounded very piercing to George's ears.
"Shit!"
George couldn't help but whisper to Hank, who was right next to him.
"Damn it, didn't you say you were the champion of the Chicago Police Department fishing tournament? This is your level? You haven't even caught as many as I have."
It was like this again.
On Locke's side, from dropping the line until now, it seemed as if he hadn't stopped at all.
And on his and Hank's side?
The situation could not be described as anything less than miserable.
Hank remained silent for a moment.
"George?"
"What?"
"Change to another hobby."
"...What do you mean?"
"Knowing you can't win but still going for it isn't brave, it's stupid."
"..."
George's mouth twitched. "Damn it, do you think I haven't tried? Target shooting, you've seen the progress in his marksmanship. Hunting, don't mention hunting to me ever again."
Speaking of which, George only now belatedly remembered that Locke was a Texan, and moreover, a cowboy.
Comparing hunting with a Texas cowboy?
What the hell was I thinking back then? After a hunting trip, let alone gaining back some face, his face was damaged even more.
George regretted it deeply.
"Wait?"
George suddenly froze, looking at Hank. "You couldn't have held back your full strength, right? You're throwing the game?"
Hank rolled his eyes. "Jump down yourself and take a look, are there any fish under us?"
To be honest, Hank didn't believe what George had described before this. After all, in the same spot, how could the fish only bite Locke's hook and completely ignore George's?
But right now?
Hank had no choice but to believe it.
But it made sense upon further thought.
Hank said to George,
"To be able to survive in that kind of environment in Texas, and not grow up twisted at all but be such a gentleman, having good luck is a certainty. Change to another hobby. Right, you could try mountain climbing, rock climbing, or maybe skydiving?"
George drew in a breath of cold air.
Hank frowned.
"What's wrong?"
"Old pal, do you think I haven't thought about that?"
"You've thought about it?"
George let out a chuckle. Over the past few days, he had gone through every leisure sport suitable for someone his age.
When he looked at those projects, to be honest, George was also quite tempted.
But...
A thorny problem presented itself right in front of him.
George said gloomily,
"You said it yourself, his luck is good, which means when I am together with him, my luck is bad. What if I lose my grip while rock climbing, or if the parachute cord damn well won't open when skydiving, what then?"
Hank: "..."
Directly GG?
Or count on Locke to save him one more time?
Neither of these options was selectable for George. Just thinking about the former gave George goosebumps, and thinking about the latter made all the hair on his body stand on end.
Hank looked at George's gloomy gaze directed over, opened his mouth, and remained silent for a moment.
"It's fine, his luck can't always be this good, there's always a time when it drops."
George nodded. If he were the only one being watched, he would have already smashed this fishing rod he bought at a high price.
Fortunately.
George used an inexplicable look filled with gratitude and emotion to gaze at Hank.
"Fortunately, I have you."
Right.
I just don't believe this guy's luck will always be this good.
This is unscientific.
But...
George and Hank were clearly disappointed.
Locke's luck was constant.
A maximum value of twenty, a constant five points!
An eternal five points!
By the afternoon of the second day, when the Gwen returned once again to the Manhattan harbor.
Disembarking.
With a snap.
Right in front of many fellow anglers, George directly broke the fishing rod in his hand that he had just spent a large sum of money to buy, shouting loudly,
"If I ever go fishing again, I will feed myself to the fish!"
"Crazy?"
"Normal."
"So to say, if we return empty-handed, we also need to break something on the way back."
"I see."
"Don't worry, he'll be back within a few days."
"Once you enter the gate of fishing, it's as deep as the sea!"
"..."
Several visiting anglers watched George's behavior and whispered loudly among themselves.
George's facial expression remained completely unchanged.
If these people knew what he had experienced over the past two days, they would definitely quit this fishing addiction completely as well.
Gwen looked at her losing-it father and couldn't help but say to Locke,
"Locke, you should have let Dad win a bit."
Locke raised his hands.
"I swear to heaven, I even let you do the fishing. When the fish kept biting the hook one after another, weren't you very happy too?"
Gwen thought about the scene of her fishing. She didn't know before that fish biting a hook could bring such a massive sense of accomplishment.
"Then let's come back next week."
Gwen glanced at George who was walking ahead, and said in a low voice,
"Without Dad. Otherwise, Dad will get angry again because he can't catch anything."
Locke opened his mouth.
He felt that if they didn't bring George along, then the one who would get angry would definitely be George.
Unless?
The two of them shared one fishing rod. Otherwise, Locke felt that his relationship with Gwen might encounter problems because of fishing.
Several of them didn't go straight home.
Instead, they drove over to the NYPD.
"My goodness."
Kate Beckett opened several coolers brought along, looking at the words inside that described them being almost devoid of water and completely filled with all kinds of fish. She looked up at George.
"Didn't you say you went out for sea fishing? This looks like you went to a seafood market..."
Speaking up to here, Kate Beckett cut herself off.
No other reason.
She saw Locke.
And then.
She experienced a sudden realization.
She couldn't speak any further. If she continued speaking, she was afraid she would be given a hard time later on.
Soon.
The entire catch from this two-day voyage at sea was divided up completely by the officers of the NYPD.
In fact, this wasn't even all of it. Like the fish caught on the first day, except for a few relatively beautiful ones, they had all been released back into the water that night.
Gwen had sent a video of the release to the classmate group chat, resulting in a large wave of exclamations, with people convinced that this wasn't the ocean but some kind of open commercial fishing ground instead.
But when Gwen filmed another shot of the moon rising over the sea, there was a brief silence, followed by all sorts of exclamations used for admiration.
When arriving at Gwen's house.
Helen and Rebecca took several of the best fish brought back into the kitchen.
George directly gestured to Hank, and then rushed straight into the second-floor study. With a thud, the commotion of closing the door to plot in secret was very loud.
Locke looked up at the stairs to the second floor and then looked at Gwen.
"Do you think George will directly bring a gun down and blow me away?"
God could bear witness that Locke indeed wanted to throw the game.
But...
This thing wasn't like hunting. When it came to hunting, Locke had already been very restrained that time. Otherwise, as long as he wanted to, George would still return empty-handed, and return empty-handed without being able to find a single reason for it.
After all, he was a cowboy, and a cowboy was the best explanation.
But fishing, how could this thing be controlled?
Locke had intentionally dropped empty hooks a few times, but the fish still came up one after another as if they were on hormones. He even doubted a bit whether his luck value would directly add a zero and explode all the way to fifty points when fishing with George.
It's necessary to try it out when going fishing alone sometime.
Locke thought this way in his heart.
Hearing Locke's words, Gwen also looked at Locke with some worry.
"You must let my dad win once, Locke."
She felt the crisis too.
If George kept getting stimulated like this, she feared that her future wedding fund would be withheld by George just like her mom's, requiring Locke to back down before it would be given.
Locke opened his mouth.
"Trust me, I really did let him."
The reason George was angry, wasn't it because Gwen clapped happily after seeing him catch a fish with an empty hook, and then George saw it, causing his face to turn green instantly?
Locke said with some helplessness,
"So, this is your fault."
Gwen opened her mouth wide, looking at Locke, and then lowered her voice.
"Alright, I can agree to your request from last night, but the premise is that you have to let Dad win once. Otherwise, Dad will be sad."
If this continued.
Gwen felt that on her wedding day, she would probably need her godfather to hold her hand and walk into the church.
Locke's eyes lit up.
"Really?"
"Of course."
"Pinky swear?"
"...Alright."
Locke and Gwen did a pinky swear. However, winning was definitely not something he would let George do; a tie at most. After all, his undefeated golden luck could not be broken.
If it broke.
The future trouble would be endless.
Dinner was another all-fish feast.
After finishing dinner, Locke took his leave. He also needed to think about what kind of thing could allow George to achieve a tie with him.
However...
Just as Locke got into the car, he received a phone call from Chester.
A single content.
Harry was dead!
Arthur did it.
***
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