Invincible forensics

June in City A felt like a giant furnace, especially around noon. Most people stayed inside, holding onto their wives for afternoon naps, and the streets were almost deserted. Even in the lush green outskirts, it was the same. Not a bird flew across the sky, and the air was thick, like it was glued together, making it hard to breathe. An old stray dog lay on the roadside, tongue hanging out, gasping for air. "Robert Downey, where’s the bottled water you bought for us? Hurry up, why are you so slow? Look at you, taking your sweet time. No wonder after four years you’re still just an ordinary cop. Look at us, we’re almost done eating…" The burly man grumbled, holding a freshly grilled sausage in his hand, taking a big bite, oil dripping from his mouth. Robert Downey was a regular police officer at the B District Police Department in City A, 22 years old. Today, the department had a rare day off, and he was out in the outskirts having a barbecue with a bunch of colleagues. Despite the hot weather, days off were hard to come by at the department, so everyone showed up. The sun was blazing, and it was a thousand meters from the barbecue spot to the nearest convenience store. Robert Downey was drenched in sweat by the time he brought back the bottled water. "Here you go, old Toy," Robert Downey said, wiping the sweat from his brow and smiling brightly as he handed over the water. Robert had sharp brows, a chiseled jawline, and a youthful face. Wearing an Adidas tracksuit, he wasn’t exactly handsome, but had the charm of a sunny, next-door kind of guy. The man called Old Toy grabbed the water, mumbling a reluctant "Thanks." Robert grinned, showing off a row of white teeth and replied, "No problem." Then, he sat down in his spot. But before he could settle in, a female officer, smiling sweetly, leaned in with a face painted like a monkey’s bottom and in a flirtatious tone asked, "Robert, can you go get me a pack of wet wipes? You know my skin can't handle the heat, it’ll wrinkle." Feeling sorry for her, or maybe just being a nice guy, Robert Downey stood up again without hesitation. "Wait for me, beautiful, I’ll be right back." With that, he hurried down the hill. "Beautiful" was the nickname for the female officer. Lydia Will, a new cop recently assigned to Robert’s team, couldn’t watch this any longer. She frowned and said, "Why are you all bullying him? He just sat down, hasn’t even taken a drink, and now you’re sending him off to buy stuff. You can go buy it yourselves." Chris, who had been silent until then, didn’t take kindly to Lydia's comment. "Junior, you don’t understand the situation. We’re trying to help him. Robert joined the B District Police at 18, but after four years, he still hasn’t been promoted. He’s had three different mentors, and still remains a regular officer. His performance is subpar in both physical training and professional skills. We’re just trying to help him improve." "Yeah!" Old Toy chimed in, "If he keeps going like this, he’ll be stuck as a rookie forever. Besides, we’re not forcing him. Just ask him when he comes back if we’re bullying him." The truth was, they were indeed taking advantage of Robert Downey's good nature. He was average, not built for police work. Back in police academy, there were times when he almost got kicked out. If it weren’t for his late father’s wish to see him become a police officer, Robert might have never chosen this career. Lydia Will glared at Old Toy in frustration, thinking, "You’re criticizing him, but you’ve been stuck in the same position for years too. Unbelievable…" She couldn’t find the words to describe these callous colleagues. "Huff... huff..." Robert Downey returned, gasping for breath, after running three kilometers to a distant supermarket to buy the wet wipes. But despite his exhaustion, he still wore a bright smile on his face, as radiant as the sun. "Here you go, beautiful, your wet wipes. Sorry for the delay, that little shop at the bottom of the hill didn’t have them," Robert said apologetically. "Thank you, Senior." Lydia Will suddenly felt pity for the handsome young man in front of her and handed him a bottle of water, her voice filled with concern, "Senior, how can you let them treat you like this?" Robert Downey took the water, gave Lydia a playful look, and in a teasing tone replied, "Junior, you can’t say that. We’re a team. Helping each other is only natural. Besides, I’m not good at physical training. Old Toy and the others just want to help me improve. Don’t misunderstand their kindness." "Exactly! We’re all brothers, how could we bully him?" Old Toy added, throwing an arm around Robert’s shoulders, both of them laughing heartily. Lydia Will couldn’t help but want to throw the water bottle at Robert, feeling like he was the epitome of a fool who had been sold and was still counting the money. "Fine, I’m just a junior. I won’t interfere with your senior’s business. But mark my words, one day they’re going to work you to death..." Lydia thought to herself, frustration building up. Somehow, she felt like people like Robert Downey deserved to be taken advantage of. Just then, fate stepped in. Under the blazing sun, with so little food in his stomach, Robert Downey collapsed on the roadside from heatstroke. No one knew it, but from that moment, Robert’s life would undergo a dramatic transformation… His head felt heavy, and he groggily opened his eyes, muttering to himself, "Where am I?" Everything around him looked outdated, completely unlike the world he had known. "Dead? Or alive?" A sudden thought crossed his mind as he instinctively checked his body for a pulse. His heartbeat was strong, and his breathing steady. "I’m still alive… but…" The room around him had an old black wardrobe, a dated desk with a computer that wouldn’t turn on, and a photo frame beside the metal bed. In the frame was a picture of Robert Downey saluting at his graduation ceremony, and beneath it was yesterday’s newspaper. "Backwards," Robert muttered, his voice barely audible. As he processed the strange surroundings, a sudden flash of memory hit him. These were Robert Downey’s memories from before he turned 22. Robert Downey—a man with no exceptional talents, a meager salary, a poor family, and a kind nature. He’d had two relatively pretty girlfriends, both of whom had broken up with him before they could sleep together. He could still remember the last conversation with his ex-girlfriend before their breakup: "Robert Downey, do you know how long I’ve waited for you? I’ve been ready to give myself to you for two years, but you haven’t even touched my hand… You’re such a loser, we’re breaking up." Robert Downey couldn’t believe that someone like him could exist—so pure and naïve. He grabbed the newspaper on the bedside table and scanned it carefully. His conclusion was clear: this wasn’t the 22nd century; it was the 21st. Outside, the noise of a mahjong game could be heard, but Robert was unfazed. He wandered around the room before lying back down on the bed. Hands behind his head, he thought about his work in the 22nd century, and about his family and friends. Time passed, and eventually, the sounds from outside faded as Robert Downey—or rather, James Clinton, as he was now known—drifted into a deep, troubled sleep.