The night wind carried a hint of blood and dust, blowing through William's sweaty hair.
He limped, each step pulling at the scorching pain in his back shoulder.
The choke marks on his neck made every breath a raspy, grinding sound, like an old bellows.
The thrilling events in the alley just now replayed in slow motion in his mind.
Moon Knight's clean and decisive moves, and the bizarre scene of the Vampire turning to ashes, left him with lingering fear.
But stronger than the fear was the fire in his heart—Oh my goodness, that big shot was practically glowing with the golden light of a 'top client'! This business opportunity was even more exciting than stomping a Vampire!
After walking a few blocks, William finally hailed a taxi that looked like it was about to fall apart.
The driver was a middle-aged man with a cigarette butt dangling from his lips and a weary face, who glanced at him with an understanding look that said, "Another unlucky soul."
"To Queens, Hollis."
William gave the address, his voice a bit hoarse.
The strange smell of cheap cigarettes mixed with air freshener filled the car, making his already uncomfortable throat feel even worse.
He leaned back in the creaking seat, a wave of exhaustion washing over him.
The wound on his back shoulder throbbed with increasing pain from the friction of the cheap seat, but he just gritted his teeth.
This bit of pain was nothing compared to a life.
And it was even less significant compared to a top-tier hero's insurance policy!
Especially when he thought of the exorbitant, uninsured medical expenses, William felt as if the wound was spurring him forward.
It was already past midnight when he returned to his rented small apartment.
The apartment hallway was dimly lit, and the air carried a complex scent of overnight garbage mixed with cheap disinfectant.
William took out his key, opened the wooden door with peeling paint, and a familiar musty smell wafted out.
He didn't turn on the light, fumbling his way into the bathroom, guided by the sparse Moon light filtering in from the window.
The man in the mirror had a pale face, disheveled hair, and a shocking purplish-red ligature mark around his neck.
He carefully took off his torn jacket and shirt; his back shoulder was bruised, with several red and swollen scratches from the Vampire's claws in the middle.
"Hiss…"
William gasped, pulling out iodine and gauze from the first-aid kit.
He had gritted his teeth and bought the first-aid kit when he had previously earned some money, and the contents were dwindling with each use.
Without anesthetic, the stinging pain of disinfection made fine beads of sweat seep from his forehead, and his teeth ground together.
He awkwardly treated his wound, each movement careful, afraid of hurting himself, and also afraid of improper treatment leading to inflammation and infection—in this World, a person like him, an unregistered resident with no proper insurance, could face bankruptcy from a single hospital visit.
Thinking of insurance, William's somewhat unfocused gaze, blurred by pain, suddenly refocused, shining with the glint of a hungry wolf spotting a juicy piece of meat.
Moon Knight, his skills, his aura, his cool, dramatic entrance from the sky—definitely a top client!
Once successful... William could almost imagine himself acquiring Moon Knight's elusive movement technique, thereby escaping his current predicament of having to endure beatings with his face and relying solely on his two legs to escape.
After bandaging himself, William quickly took a shower and changed into a clean, old T-shirt and shorts.
He didn't lie down immediately, even though every part of his body screamed for rest.
He opened his creaking second-hand laptop; as the screen lit up, it emitted a buzzing electrical sound and flickered a few times before stabilizing.
New York nights were never quiet; the distant sirens and the neighborhood's hustle and bustle intertwined, forming the city's unique background sound.
William took a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore his physical fatigue and the persistent dull ache, and his fingers began to type on the keyboard.
Because of the injury to his back shoulder, his sitting posture was somewhat twisted, and his typing speed was considerably slower.
The search engine interface was stark and cold.
"Moon Knight."
He typed the first keyword.
Enter.
The search results were varied, but truly useful information was scarce.
Most were speculative posts from urban legend forums.
Things like "White Ghost flying at midnight," "Moon God's messenger punishing evil," with accompanying images that were either blurry mosaics or irrelevant Photoshopped pictures.
It made William's blood pressure spike, and he almost wanted to reach through the internet to sell those posters "Cyber Rumor Accident Insurance."
"Damn it! The professionalism of these netizens and paparazzi is an insult to the great Moon Knight's strength!"
William cursed under his breath, accidentally bumping the corner of the table, and grimaced again.
He suppressed the discomfort and tried a few more keywords: "White uniform vigilante," "Crescent moon mark hero," "Night prowler White Shadow dark alley," "White cape that beat up Vampires."
The results were still like searching for a needle in a haystack.
The information was either too old or too outlandish, and some even swore that Moon Knight was a secret weapon of Wayne Enterprises—come on, that's a Gotham specialty!
How did it get cross-channeled?
Moon Knight was like a true ghost, existing only in scattered descriptions from eyewitnesses and urban legends, unbelievably mysterious.
This gave William a headache.
If he couldn't find him, who would he pitch his insurance to? Did he really have to stake out the streets, hoping the big shot would descend from the sky again?
"The big shot is too low-key, he doesn't even have a fan club."
William rubbed his temples, feeling more exhausted than after a beating.
Too little information.
This Moon Knight seemed to deliberately hide his whereabouts.
Unlike some heroes who liked to pose for cameras and practically held press conferences, this one clearly preferred to operate in the Shadow.
This undoubtedly increased the difficulty of selling him insurance.
But would William Rodriguez, the former Earth's top insurance salesman, give up because of such a small difficulty?
Of course not! The tougher the client, the higher their value, and the richer the sense of accomplishment and system rewards after closing the deal!
He could almost see himself, after Moon Knight signed an eight-figure policy, his strength skyrocketing, with a system prompt: [Congratulations, Host, you have obtained a fragment of Moon Knight's "Moonlight Stealth" ability], and from then on, ascending to the pinnacle of life.
"System, do you have any functions like a client radar or automatic navigation?"
William silently called out in his mind.
The system interface remained motionless in his mind, still in its simple, almost crude style, with no new response beyond the "Newbie Tip."
"Alright, I knew I couldn't count on you." William pouted. It seemed that finding clients still depended on his own two legs and an unyielding sales spirit.
William was not discouraged; instead, his fighting spirit was ignited.
He opened several local New York news websites, police reports, and some deep web forums, starting a carpet search for recent reports related to violent crime or supernatural events.
Since Moon Knight would intervene to subdue Vampires, he certainly wouldn't just meddle once.
As long as he was still active, William would surely find clues.
Just as he was getting dizzy from looking and was about to give up and take a nap, an inconspicuous post title in a corner forum filled with various conspiracy theories, half a year old, caught his attention: "Late Night Sighting! White Ghost Suspected of Punishing Gangsters on the Edge of the Financial District! Pictures Included, But Blurry!"
The poster claimed to have captured a blurry White figure with an old mobile phone on the rooftop of an old building on the edge of the Financial District one late night while returning home from overtime. The figure moved swiftly, seemingly pursuing someone, and included a photo that was almost completely blurred, barely showing anything White.
There were a few scattered replies below, mostly mocking and disbelieving, with some even saying it was a bedsheet hung out to dry.
"Edge of the Financial District? Old building? White figure?"