American comics: Start by copying Superman’s talents

This is a detention room of moderate size.

The crucifix was hung in the most central location outside the prison.

And inside the iron bars sat a man with messy hair.

He has a beard and a decadent look on his face.

The strong smell of smoke and alcohol mixed on his body made him smell like salted fish that had been pickled for a long time. I don't know how long it has been since this guy last took a bath.

Not far from him sat a thin man. His face was a little pale, but he couldn't stop stealing glances at the man, as if he was very curious about him.

"I'm not gay. If you look at me again, I'll dig your eyes out."

The man rolled his eyes speechlessly.

But the thin white man next to him was also good-tempered. He just smiled and said, "No, I'm just curious."

He pointed at the black preaching uniform the other person was wearing, a typical attire for a pastor who believed in God and didn't smoke or drink.

But this guy is different from other pastors. Just from the black calluses on his hands, you can tell that he smokes a lot.

There was also a strong smell of alcohol lingering on his body.

To put it simply, this guy smokes and drinks in private.

"What about me? It has nothing to do with you."

Jesse raised his middle finger towards the thin man, and then a sheriff walked in and opened the cell door for him: "You can leave now, Jesse, but don't be so impulsive and break other people's bones next time."

"understood."

Jesse dropped the cigarette in his hand and waved goodbye to the sheriff.

Returning to the church where he lived, Jesse sat in a seat at the bottom of the cross, lit a cigarette, took a deep breath and squinted his eyes comfortably.

It was late at night and the night wind blew into the church through the open windows, causing some loose wooden boards to creak.

But Jesse, who was already familiar with all this, turned a blind eye.

He doesn't believe in ghosts or gods.

but.

Crash, crash.

It was like dense waves hitting the rocks, and just by listening to the sound it seemed as if something was approaching here at a very fast speed.

"What the fuck?"

Jesse uttered the American quintessence, slowly stood up on his knees, and took out a pistol from under his robe.

In free America, you can be without money, but you can't be without a gun.

Most people’s thinking is actually very simple: if he has a gun, then I must have one too.

After a while, everyone has it, and if no one is convinced, it will be easy for a conflict to occur.

Thinking this in his mind, Jesse turned around and saw something that seemed to be transparent, with a vague outline approaching him rapidly.

"what!"

That thing had no facial features, only a human-like outline, and looked weird and scary.

It has an extremely fast speed, and every time it moves, the surrounding tables and chairs make a "rustling" sound.

"damn it."

In response to this supernatural situation, Jesse did not hesitate at all. He pulled the trigger without even turning off the safety of the gun.

Bang bang bang!

Three dull gunshots and three whistling bullets.

The weapon, which could easily take a person's life since its invention, passed through the phantom outline as if it hit the air, and landed on the wall of the church, splashing cement everywhere.

Then, without giving Jesse time to react, the transparent object slammed into the man's chest.

"vomit!"

An indescribable feeling flowed through his body, and the feeling of nausea and vomiting made Jesse squat on the ground and want to vomit something.

But he just retched and doubted his life in his mind.

No, do gods and ghosts really exist?

But how is this possible?

Before he could think seriously, a stronger feeling of dizziness made his eyes roll back and he fainted in the church.

The next morning, Jesse was awakened by the noisy birdsong outside the window.

He lives in a remote town that is not polluted by industrial waste and has good greening.

"Wow, how long have I slept?"

As he thought about it, Jesse stood up and looked at himself still wearing the dirty missionary robe.

The man didn't care. He just patted his clothes and walked out of the church.

He had not walked far when an old man came up to him in a panic.

"Father Jesse, I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I had an argument with my mother yesterday, and I wanted to ask you how I can get my mother to forgive me. I didn't mean to have an argument with her."

The guy who came for consultation was a bald, middle-aged white man. He looked at the drunk priest nervously and felt a little uneasy, not knowing whether the priest was reliable.

But most Americans believe in Jesus, so the man decided to believe.

"Oh, so you had a fight with your mother?" Jesse rubbed his messy hair. He was still wondering whether the strange thing he saw last night was real or just an illusion caused by drinking too much.

So Jesse said perfunctorily: "If you want to seek your mother's forgiveness, you should be brave, open your heart and tell her how sorry you are."

To be honest, Jesse became a pastor just to kill time and make some money.

He has no interest in helping people solve their problems or guiding their future.

After all, my own future is a mess, so how can I be qualified to guide others?

Just live your life in a muddle.

"Okay, okay."

As he listened to Jesse's words, the man's expression gradually changed from guilt to numbness, as if the other person's words were like a will from God. He turned around and ran towards home without looking back.

"Oh, I'm such a good person." Jesse shook his head with some emotion, stopped caring about the man, turned around and continued walking.

On the other side, the bald man quickly ran back to his farm.

"Mom!" He pushed open the door and saw his elderly mother sitting on the sofa eating a sandwich.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mother."

The man slowly walked to his mother's side, then squatted down and picked up the fruit knife on the coffee table.

"Pfft!"

The old woman in the floral dress didn't even have time to react as the maple leaf blade instantly cut through his organs and chest.

Blood gushed out from the blood vessels, spilling into every corner of the living room like exploded tomato juice.

This brutal and bloody scene also frightened the old woman, causing her to scream in terror.

"Oh, Paul!"

She shouted and reached out to grab her son's arm, but to no avail. The man simply stepped back slightly and avoided the mother's grasp.

Then, under the woman's eager eyes, he slowly escaped from his beating heart: "I followed the pastor's instructions and had an open-hearted chat with you."

This sentence seemed to have used up his last bit of strength. The man fell to the ground with his eyes wide open, leaving behind the old lady who was screaming in fear.

She had no idea what was going on, and fear spread in her heart.