He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, lying alone on the empty and dense grass in Texas, and the sun was good. A gust of wind blew by, and many green hundred-dollar bills fell from the sky and scattered around him. He didn't open his eyes, as if intoxicated in a nap.
No one cares about the shot that hit him a second ago. Although the bullet just passed through his chest, his white clothes were dyed red.
No one cares about his childhood either. The mother of a prostitute who committed suicide with syphilis, the father who left without saying goodbye, was manslaughter at the age of 6, and was sentenced to prison again at the age of 12 for "borrowing" someone else's car to drive.
Unlike his terrible cellmate, he only hurt one person, the bastard who tried to hurt his mother.
People only know that he is an escaped prisoner.
No one cares about his hand reaching into his pocket, he will pull out a pistol, or just a postcard with Alaskan landscape. No one cares about him as a hero. He saved a woman and a child. He broke the pedophile's nose and punished the father who beat the child. He was good at telling stories about time machines. He also bought a Halloween costume for his hostages.
By the way, he has an 8-year-old hostage.
That is his time travel partner.
He gave him fatherly love, joy, trust and dreams. He loves this child.
He even killed a second time to protect him.
Unfortunately, this world is not perfect.
At that moment, his spacecraft stopped. Can't be launched again, and drive to the future.
But he will always be the captain, in our hearts, in that perfect world.
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