Chapter 195: Double Gunman

　　 The day Su Ming raided the laboratory, Brooklyn, New York.
　　 There is an old building about five stories high. Every window and every red brick tells its history.
　　 It is like an old man, witnessing everything in New York.
　　 At this time, in a window on the fourth floor, an old man was looking out the window. He tried his best to get up from the hospital bed, trying to see the location of the Brooklyn antique store.
　　 But this small building is not the Empire State Building. The height of four floors is not enough to make him see a few blocks away.
　　 This is a sanatorium. The corridors are full of urine and the smell of decay. Many unsupported elderly people are arranged here.
　　 Receive more professional treatment and care, or wait quietly for death.
"When I'm old... let them send me back." The old man leaned on the head of the bed and spoke to the doctor beside him. His hair and teeth were all lost, and his loose skin was covered with cloth. Full of age spots, but his eyes are still bright: "Not in Texas, nor in Boston, cough cough cough..."
　　 Both the doctor and the nurse leaned over and held his body. The doctor with a mustache patted him on the back and comforted him: "Relax, Mr. Hawke, it's okay."
　　 However, the situation of the old man is not optimistic at all. He is suffering from cancer and has been in a coma for several days.
　　 He woke up suddenly this morning and regained his sobriety. If it weren't for the fact that he couldn't move, he planned to take a look a few blocks away.
　　Dr. Holloway also lived in Brooklyn when he was a child, and he was very familiar with the surrounding streets. He knew what the old man said about the Brooklyn antique shop, and he also knew that the owner was an old lady with extraordinary temperament and charm.
　　 But old gentleman, I see more of this situation as a doctor now. You should take the opportunity to talk about what you need to say, eat something you want, and don’t think about picking up the girl.
　　Mr. Hawke calmed his breath and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth: "It's okay. Anyway, everything started in New York. I hope I can witness it with my own eyes."
　　 "What do you witness?" Dr. Holloway sat on the head of his bed. This was the first time he had spoken to him after he took over the patient.
　　 "Witness...the beginning of the future."
　　 So all afternoon, Dr. Holloway sat quietly by the bed, listening to the old man telling him about the future.
　　 In the description of the old man, he talked about gods and monsters, masked heroes, and the man with a shield.
　　 The doctor keeps this in his notebook, because listening to the patient's last voice is also a kind of hospice care.
　　 This was supposed to be done by the priest, but now the priest is also on the battlefield, just like the German priests, shouting the name of God, shooting each other or throwing grenades.
　　 But God tends to favor well-trained murderers rather than devout believers at such moments.
　　 Dr. Holloway recorded these stories. At first, he thought it was unrealistic babbling, but the old man had clear eyes and clear logic. He told everything about the future.
　　 The ship that can connect everyone's network, can let people leave the earth, and can instantly destroy the world's stones.
　　 Holloway can only admit that this is all true, the old man is not confused at all, this is his extremely serious last words.
　　Doctor, he likes the stories of these heroes. If it were not for this bad age, he would definitely be like Zorro.
　　 But now, he is the last doctor in the nursing home, he cannot leave here.
　　............
　　 That evening, the young nurse walked into the doctor's office and told him that Mr. Matthew Hawke had passed away.
　　 He came to the old man's ward again. In the yellow light, the old man's face was pale and he lay calmly on the bed.
　　 "Can you sign the death certificate? Doctor." The nurse asked him.
　　 "Uh, ok, what a pity... he is a nice person." Holloway nodded. This is the most important duty of a nursing home doctor, signing the death certificate.
　　 The nurse also nodded in sympathy: "He passed away in a dream, kind old man... By the way, doctor, let me give you this before going to bed."
　　 The black-haired female nurse said, turned around and picked up a small wooden box from the medicine cart on the side. It had a beautiful pattern on it, which looked very important.
　　 "Before going to bed?"
　　 "Yes, he seems to know... he will never wake up again..."
　　 In the early morning, Holloway returned to his home in the Upper East Side. He has a warm study room, luxurious carpets, and he can enjoy the best drinks of Skywalker at any time.
　　Before he took over the nursing home, he was the best surgeon in New York. If it weren't for many high-ranking officials and dignitaries who needed his services and forced him to stay, he should have gone to the battlefield.
　　 But his medical skills still cannot cure cancer.
　　 There are eight cases of cancer recorded in the Egyptian papyrus dating back to 3000 BC, but humans are still helpless until now.
　　Under the desk lamp, he opened the wooden box the old man had left him.
Inside 　　 is a pair of revolvers, a Zorro-style blindfold, and a small letterhead.
　　 "Gift, Doctor Thomas Holloway."
　　 Don't read the letter, the doctor already knows what it is, he beat his head, complaining about his carelessness.
　　Matthew Hawke, a lawyer from Texas and Boston, is just the old man’s alias. And Matt Hawke, his real name, he is the Double Gunman.
　　He is from the West, a masked knight who was active in the Old West decades ago.
He has a black fast horse, a black blindfold, and a pair of'Peacemaker' revolvers~EbookFREE.me~ He has a skillful shooting technique and is brave and fearless. One person can fight against hundreds of gangs. He guards it Several gold mining towns have been safe for nearly ten years.
　　 Until all his enemies were wiped out, and then he also rode a horse and disappeared in the yellow sand and strong wind. People did not know his name afterwards, and his whereabouts are unknown until today.
　　 If what he said is true, then he has gone to the future.
　　 Holloway grew up reading his stories. The name of the Two Gunman is almost present in all western novels. Many Americans also know his deeds. The old man was once a symbol of a hero.
　　 The doctor kept complaining about himself. He should have told the dead hero what his story meant to him. It was the Twin Gunman who inspired him and inspired almost all the chivalrous people.
　　 When he opened the small note in the box, it clearly read a sentence: "For the next hero."
　　 He knew that the old man had noticed his thoughts that hadn't been put into practice. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes, or the way he spoke or walked that exposed himself.
　　Doctor wants to be a hero, a hero like the Western Story, but all kinds of realistic factors keep him from taking that step and unable to make up his mind.
　　 But today, an old hero passed his weapon into his hands.
　　 Holloway suddenly felt a bit sultry in the study, his heart beating very fast, he drank the drink in his glass and walked to the window behind him.
　　 Even in the early spring night, he still needs to open the window to breathe and think about the future.
　　 Looking at the city outside the window, the neon lights set off tall black shadows. He felt that the world that the old man described to him, the world full of heroes, seemed not so far away.