Enforcer Manual
Chapter 708 - 706

Chapter 708: 706

Although Hog was involved in a profession related to the judicial system, he never participated in the process of solving cases. For someone of his level, such matters were far too trivial. He simply needed to stay in his air-conditioned office and wait for others to bring him the neatly organized results of their investigations.

As for people like Orman... he wouldn’t spare them a second glance.

At least, that had always been the case in the past.

Now, however, Hog didn’t know what had changed within him. Unexpectedly, he found himself pouring over the case files like a law enforcer from a basic department.

Getting hold of these files wasn’t difficult. With just a phone call, the Law Enforcers’ department from The First Region would send them over. But it was only after he delved into the details that he realized these cases were not simple at all.

He also pulled the compliance index of these thugs. The lowest among them was above 75, whereas Orman, who had been killed on the spot, had a compliance index of 92. One person succumbing to illness could be coincidental, but the emergence of so many cases in recent days certainly indicated some unspeakable conspiracy behind it all.

Hog believed Lucy’s concerns were valid—it could very well be the work of some malevolent Standin.

As the investigation deepened, he discovered even more unusual details.

According to standard procedures, such incidents should have been handled by the Law Enforcers’ department first, and only when they couldn’t subdue the thugs would the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team be called in. However, the recent cases all bypassed the Law Enforcers’ department, with the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team taking immediate charge, and the outcomes were in line with the team’s usual style.

All the thugs were shot dead on site.

Hog had personally experienced one such attack. In his view, Orman was just an ordinary person who had modified his hand into a gun. The threat level hardly warranted the involvement of the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team.

Someone wanted to silence voices through the hands of the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team.

Had the Law Enforcers’ department intervened, they might have used tranquillizer rounds or other weapons to capture the thugs alive.

When all the clues were pieced together, Hog finally realized that Orman’s cries of "They’re urging me on" from yesterday were not entirely the delusions of a mentally ill person. Something indeed had happened to him that caused him to enter a state of madness—and this... it seemed more like their familiar modus operandi.

Hog asked himself if he wanted to hide these secrets, he might also resort to the same tactics.

If he had not personally inquired about these cases, they would have been indefinitely suppressed at the Law Enforcers’ department, and they, too, had tacitly refrained from further investigation.

Time would make everyone forget everything.

Months or even years later, when someone looked back, all they would know was that there was a period when the incidence of thugs in The First Region had risen.

Hog made another call to the Law Enforcers’ department, and not surprisingly, he obtained an important clue.

The Review Meeting had issued them an order: the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team had sole responsibility for these cases, and they were told not to interfere. Since the higher-ups had spoken, they gladly complied with the order. They didn’t even bring the bodies of the thugs to the station but instead let the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team handle them directly.

He knew there was one person who could answer all his questions.

So one morning, Jock received another perplexing phone call.

Lately, every time he answered the phone, nothing good ever happened, making him feel almost like he was developing PTSD.

Once again, Hog Foster’s actions exceeded his expectations, completely altering his understanding of the old friend, "What, you’re saying you’re investigating Orman’s case? What’s gotten into you that suddenly you want to play at being a Law Enforcer?"

"I just need a name."

"You should stop looking into this matter."

Jock remembered the attack from the previous night, suspected that perhaps Hog’s paranoia had kicked in, thinking someone wanted to assassinate him, and so he explained, "Yesterday’s incident was an accident. The man’s been killed. If you feel unsatisfied because the body hasn’t been dealt with, shall I have someone send it to your apartment?"

Both sides fell into a brief silence.

A moment later, Hog asked, "Jock, why would you know that the body hasn’t been dealt with?"

Jock wasn’t even part of the judicial system; with his status, he couldn’t possibly be so attentive to the details of these cases.

He already had his answer.

"My friend, you’re too paranoid. I’ve already told you, it wasn’t directed at you—it was completely an accident. No one knew you would go back to Lucy’s hospital late at night."

"...Your target was originally Lucy?"

"It has nothing to do with Lucy either, it was entirely an accident!"

Lucy and Hog had been giving him quite a headache these past days, and because of his High-level Parliament status, he had to pay attention to their psychological states. The club would never let someone mentally ill take the role of Secretary-General, "No one wants to assassinate you, and no one wants to assassinate Lucy; she’s just a psychologist."

Hog didn’t argue, thus accepting Jock’s theory of an "accident."

He meticulously analyzed the previous attacks. Those ruthlessly killed by the thugs were either their superiors or people who had had conflicts with them at work; indeed, there were no clear indications.

"Then what is their purpose?"

"Listen, if you really have nothing to do lately, go find a club to work out, or attend more social mixers. Find something enjoyable to do for yourself, don’t look for trouble."

"Trouble has found me this time."

"Alright..."

Jock sighed helplessly, knowing Hog’s character well—all too well to swallow the humiliation of having a gun pointed at his head. To avoid unnecessary trouble, he said, "Remember the expert I mentioned at the party that day? She has some harmless weird hobbies. It’s better to turn a blind eye to some things, don’t you think?"

"I understand."

Hog Foster didn’t explicitly state his position on the phone, as the turn of events was mostly as he had anticipated, and the identity of the evil Standin messenger seemed about to be revealed.

"By the way, Hog."

Just as he was about to hang up, Jock suddenly stopped him, "If I were you, I’d stay away from the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team members for a while."

.....................

Meanwhile, in the office building of the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team.

Lunch break had arrived.

Melissa, at her desk, glanced out the window and habitually took out a bottle of medicine from her drawer, swallowing two capsules.

This was the specific remedy for manic-depressive illness; nearly every team member had been assigned a bottle.

The doctors said it was good for them, able to temporarily suppress Cyber psychosis. About a few seconds later, her increasingly restless heart calmed down, and her rapid breathing slowed.

Melissa had never thought that after shaving a dozen people on the street with a thermal cutting blade, she not only avoided being sent to prison to be shot but instead became a public servant for the United Government.

As netizen slang would have it, she had hit the jackpot at the right time.

The Review Meeting passed the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team bill. Some believed that the grassroots Law Enforcers’ departments needed a special squad capable of dealing with Cyber maniac attacks, and one of their solutions was to have these former Cyber maniacs, whose conditions had improved with medication, handle these cases.

No training costs, recycling waste, and if they "broke down" during work, it wouldn’t result in additional losses.

This was indeed in keeping with the United Government’s usual practices.

However, Melissa didn’t loathe her job; on the contrary, the news she most hoped to hear each day was of Cyber maniac incidents in some district.

But this was the First Region.

Because of that damned compliance index, even if people went crazy from work, most would opt for self-destruction, quietly departing this world—until recently, Melissa began to feel life had hope again.

The downside was that the quality of the thugs she encountered recently left much to be desired.

They were no different from ordinary armed individuals; you couldn’t find many military-grade cybernetic components even if you tore their bodies apart, nor could they offer the thrill of a challenge to these "experts" who even dreamt of ways to pare down humans.

But...

If you looked at it from the perspective of a normal person, this probably wasn’t a good sign.

It meant her condition was deteriorating again.

The medication had calmed Melissa down from her agitation and reminded her of more important matters.

"Eh? Captain Melissa, you’re leaving work so early today?"

Seeing her stand up, one of her subordinates couldn’t help but comment, "Given the recent trend, there might be another attack this afternoon."

"You guys go, I have an appointment with a psychologist."

Melissa admitted that she hesitated, a comment from her teammate suddenly sparked the idea to ditch the psychologist and join the afternoon operation instead.

But in the end, she controlled her impulse and instructed her teammates, "You guys go, and if there’s an incident... remember to record it and send me a copy."

"Don’t worry."

The teammates flashed her an "all good" hand signal, "Multi-angle shooting, guaranteed to satisfy."

...

The atmosphere in the Anti-Terror Rapid Response Team was always harmonious, even more so than in most normal companies, because those who gathered here were all enthusiasts. The topics they discussed the most in the office were "human anatomy," and Melissa was among the best.

"Why did the captain suddenly decide to see a psychologist?"

After Melissa had left, someone suddenly asked.

"I don’t know... Maybe she’s in love?"

Someone else chimed in, "You might not believe this, but I saw the captain doing her eyebrows in the bathroom mirror. Have you guys ever seen her dress up before?"

The teammates marveled in wonder.

Indeed, their job didn’t require makeup or dressing up; they all wore combat suits and helmets on missions, and nobody could see what they looked like.

At the same time, they couldn’t help but feel sorry for the captain’s romantic interest, as everyone wore a mischievous smile.

"Sleeping with the captain?"

Someone joked, "Isn’t he afraid he’ll wake up to find himself sliced into ribbons?"

The office was filled with laughter, brimming with joyful spirits.

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