The current Mr. Warden is clearly not bald.
Strange was silent for a moment. In other words, the "puppets" in these prisons have nothing to do with Mr. Warden—in other words, they are left by the previous warden.
Regarding the history of this prison, Stark is also vague. It seems that it was built suddenly a few months ago, with several government contracts signed, prisoners started to be taken in, and then the escape was gradually captured by satellites - and then it attracted all kinds of attention.
Strange felt that it was necessary for him to remind Stark and ask him to check the history of the previous warden. But when he took out his phone, he found that there were a few more missed calls from Stark.
He frowned, but still looked at Banner and Anderson on the opposite side first—the Hall guard had already left after answering their questions. He was busy opening the door for passers-by on the aisle.
"I see," said Strange, "that it was my fault that I misunderstood Mr. Warden."
"But there are a lot of mysteries in it," Banner added, "I understand. But Mr. Warden doesn't seem to be well-suited for inquiries from all sides right now—in fact, he may be caught up in the prisoner's death." It's... in a bad state."
Stark's phone call came again, and the eyes of Banner and Anderson guards subconsciously fell on the lit screen.
"Then I'll take my leave," Banner said.
Anderson was a little confused: "What about me?"
Strange: "... if you don't mind, you can also leave."
Anderson looked a little disappointed: "Okay, doctor."
The two walked out of the psychiatrist's office, and Strange got on the phone.
"Thank goodness—Stephen, I need you."
Stark never said that, but he sounded flustered and anxious now, which puzzled Strange.
"Why?"
"Because you might be a psychiatrist?" Stark said in a skeptical tone, "Whatever, Stephen, I need you to come to the warden's office now. Mr. Warden seems to have a problem, The prisoner's death made him doubt the reality of the world—will you cure this?"
Strange: "No."
The other side of the phone seemed to freeze for a few seconds, and said with some frustration: "Then you'd better come too. If I plan to knock Mr. Warden away, you'd better explain it to Banner for me—at least he Not going to be the big green guy here."
Strange said indifferently, "And I can't even hold a pen here."
The other side of the phone thought of Stark with damaged nerves in his hands: "..."
"Wait there," said Strange, "and try to keep the Warden steady."
Stark: "Understood."
After hanging up the phone, he walked out of the bathroom and saw Mr. Warden playing with the knife in his hand in the office across the hall.
It is obviously not suitable for people with abnormal mental state to hold such things in their hands.
Stark took a deep breath, tried his best to restrain himself, and said calmly, "Is that the knife that almost killed the clown?"
Mr. Warden didn't seem to hear what he said, and took out a blood-stained rag from the drawer.
Stark grinned, would there be such a thing in a normal person's drawer
Mr. Warden began to carefully wipe the remaining blood clots on the table knife, but it was obviously useless, because the blood on it had dried up long ago.
Stark watched the black-haired young man frown slightly, threw the rag back, then looked at the cactus beside him, and cut a thorn off with a table knife.
Stark: "..."
Even if this cactus looks abnormal, it is not likely to be used as a murder weapon. Sure enough, Mr. Warden held the cactus thorn for a long time, seemed to give up some idea, and threw it into the drawer together with the rag.
Immediately afterwards, he looked at Mr. Stark with a smile: "Have you brought a gun?"
Stark immediately denied: "There are guards at the gate who will take away the weapons."
Of course, his weapon is no ordinary gun.
Mr. Warden shrugged: "Then we have to walk a few more steps."
Stark watched the warden walk out of the office, and was stunned for a few seconds before following.
"Mr. Warden, are you interested in having dinner?" He threw out an olive branch with a headache, "About today's little misunderstanding, I think we can... chat while eating?"
Mr. Warden paused, turned his head and glanced at him: "Yes, but it's not necessary."
Stark: "...?"
Seeing that he was about to be unable to stop the warden, the other party's destination was obviously the gun store—though he didn't know why.
But he can ask directly: "Mr. Warden, are you going to - go and inspect the weapons and equipment in the prison yourself?"
The warden replied lightly: "Oh, no, I'm going to find a gun to commit suicide."
Stark: "???"
Every sentence of conversation today made him unable to continue. But the warden looked very serious, and there was nothing unusual on his expression.
Now Stark had to stop in front of him: "Wait, Mr. Warden, I think this matter can be discussed." He paused, "In addition to suicide, there are other things that can make people suffer." Way out of grief."
Mr. Warden stopped in his tracks, looking helpless: "I think you misunderstood something, I'm not sad."
Stark: "... well, you're not sad. But—can you go back to the office first?"
"No," Mr. Warden refused, "I'm going to kill myself now."
Stark: "..."
He took a deep breath and tapped his watch twice behind him. The slight sound of mechanical friction was undetectable, and within a few seconds, the golden-red gauntlet covered his left hand.
Stark raised his palm to the warden: "I think you have to go back to the warden's office, this matter is not negotiable."
The warden was silent for a while, looking deeply into Stark's eyes: "—otherwise you will kill me?"
Stark: "..."
He took a deep breath, feeling that it would be better to knock Mr. Warden unconscious on the spot, but then the voice of the artificial intelligence butler suddenly sounded: "Sir, there are 7 armed men approaching from your 5 o'clock direction, the scan shows The armory has been taken."
Without the artificial intelligence continuing to prompt, Stark could also hear the sudden intensive gunshots behind him.
He immediately realized something, and quickly glanced at the warden: "You have already noticed their changes?"
However, the pupils of the warden opposite him dilated slightly, as if with a hint of heartache: "What?"
Stark immediately withdrew the palm cannon aimed at him: "You really shouldn't make this damn joke at this time-follow me, do you have a gun?"
Mr. Warden gave him a strange look: "I asked you this sentence just now - I didn't, otherwise what would I do here?"
Stark: "… hell."
He heard Mr. Warden even add a sentence: "I don't even have a key to the prison door, the game system just doesn't equip me with this thing."
Stark: "... kill me."
"No, no." Mr. Warden's tone suddenly became concerned, and he even pressed his shoulder, "You must not die."
If Stark dies, wouldn't Zhang Dianyu lose a source of subsidy after returning to the game? Although the game is not everything, he only remembers this game now, and he thinks he will continue to play.
Stark took a deep breath, and looked at Mr. Warden with a complicated expression.
Zhang Dianyu saw a few people coming out from the direction of the gun store, wearing fancy costumes and clown masks—but orange and crimson prison uniforms were faintly exposed underneath.
He suddenly realized and realized where this person came from.
"No." Zhang Dianyu said to himself, turned around and ran back—the confinement area is on the east side of the warden's office, in the same direction.
And Stark raised his hand suddenly, and the energy cannon hit a tear gas bomb thrown over him, and he had to step back a little.
"Go back to your office, someone will meet you there!"
He shouted in the direction of the warden.
Then he turned his head to deal with the chaos in front of him, and hoped that his armor could reach here earlier than the dark bat opposite.
Zhang Dianyu stopped outside the confinement area. It was quiet here, which seemed unusual.
He took out the bloody knife from his suit pocket, undid the first button of his collar, and loosened his tie.
Anyway, he was going to log out of the game, so he planned to give this honor to the clown—it was a pity that he didn't die together last time, so he will try again this time.
It doesn't matter if you fail, as long as the game is not as real as the real world, he will put them all in the transformer room when he returns.
Zhang Dianyu opened the game panel and looked at the confinement room on the map.
Surprisingly, neither the clown nor the ogre have moved, while a prison doctor and a guard are walking down the hallway side by side.
Zhang Dianyu frowned slightly, raising his vigilance.
The doctor was arranged by him, because the no-meal supply area of the confinement room needs the doctor to come over and give them a dose of healing needles before the blood bar of the confinement prisoners is exhausted, so that they can be revived in place.
That's a pretty generous deal—considering that the prison is still in the red, and two inmates burn through $3,000 in a few days, it's almost unique in prisons at this time.
But the problem is that behind the doctor and the guards, the clown is resurrected, while Lecter is still lying on the ground, his blood bar is about to run out.
Zhang Dianyu had to suspect that these two people were also insiders of the clown.
But judging from the map, they were not armed. Zhang Dianyu gripped the knife tightly.
Steady footsteps gradually approached, and the figures of guards and doctors appeared at the door. They saw Zhang Dianyu from a distance, and saluted him: "Sir."
Zhang Dianyu was ready to go.
However, the guards and the doctor did not stop, but hurried to the other side—the direction of the gun store. At this time, most of the police forces in the prison were mobilized to stop the riot.
But Zhang Dianyu obviously knew where the source of the riot should be.
At this moment, he found that the clown's closed door was opened. But the other party didn't move, bubbles of joy appeared above his head, showing the words of expectation.
Zhang Dianyu stood there for a while, and gradually understood what the clown was expecting.
He walked into the confinement area, and the corridor echoed with his footsteps alone.
The author has something to say: Clown: Thanks to Mr. Warden for sending a head (