Enforcer Manual
Chapter 715 - 713

Chapter 715: 713

Elsewhere.

When Melissa emerged from the black clinic, her SWAT uniform was stained red with blood. She clenched her fists tightly and, after a long pause, finally sheathed the blindingly hot blade.

She had warned Ulan long ago about dealing with these black clinics. He had agreed on the surface, but secretly, he had entrusted them to modify his prosthetics.

The SWAT team had a special identity and were restricted to maintenance remedy at specific locations. Legitimate prosthetic hospitals wouldn’t admit them; only those shady clinics would take on such surgeries—money was all that mattered to them, not the identity of their patients.

There was no one left standing in the clinic.

The pleasure of a long-absent killing spree was indescribable, but at the same time, the night made her feel lost.

She didn’t know what kind of change she was bringing about by leading her team into these black clinics. Deep down, however, they all knew it was an act of venting. The ones who killed Ulan were from the Counter-Intelligence Department, and they were protected by the laws of the United Government.

The top brass were striving to portray the incident as an accidental tragedy caused by cyber psychosis and were pressuring both sides’ higher-ups, hoping the matter would end there. Under such circumstances, the first to start a conflict would undoubtedly be opposing the High-level Parliament and the entire United Government.

As for the people in the black clinics, they were never protected by the United Government’s law, and it seemed as if the higher-ups had silently consented to their venting actions.

"Ding-ling-ling, ding-ling-ling."

An unfamiliar ringtone resounded by her ear, as if coming from her own body, but it was not the ringtone of her phone.

After rummaging through her SWAT uniform for a moment, she found a strange cellphone that had been slipped in at some unknown time.

But...

How was that possible?

Outside of mission periods, SWAT uniforms were locked in individual lockers and could only be accessed by scanning the corresponding biometric eye.

The incoming call displayed a string of gibberish.

The unrelenting ringtone made her feel anxious and agitated. For some reason, this default system ringtone seemed to be trying to stir up the restlessness deep within her.

For instance, barging alone into the Counter-Intelligence Department building.

That’s what Ulan had done.

Before he was killed, he had taken down several of those so-called elites.

Melissa avoided the other team members and found a secluded corner to answer the call.

"Captain Melissa."

The voice on the other end was obscured and sounded like it had been treated with voice encryption.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I have no specific purpose, just one question for you. Are you satisfied?"

"What?"

"Are you satisfied with this? Venting your anger on a bunch of people who didn’t have much to do with your comrade’s death, then convincing yourself that you’ve accomplished vengeance..."

"Who the hell are you?"

"You should know the answer to that," the voice paused. "Think about it carefully, why you are here and who you’re talking to. You’ve known the answer from the beginning."

...

"Finally found you, Captain!"

Suddenly, a team member’s call came from behind. He jogged up to Melissa and said, "The Chief wants you to come back to the precinct right away!"

"Didn’t you see I was..."

The words reached her lips, but Melissa suddenly froze; she had indeed been talking to someone, but that unknown cellphone had vanished, as if it had never been there.

The team member also looked at her with a bewildered expression.

"It’s nothing, let’s head back to the precinct," Melissa composed herself.

Receiving calls from a non-existent phone, hearing voices of unclear origin—these were not good signs for a former cyber psychosis patient. If the psychiatrists or people from the Counter-Intelligence Department found out, she might be immediately subjected to isolation therapy.

Under normal circumstances, she would have treated it as a self-granted long vacation, but with Ulan’s recent death and many unresolved issues, she couldn’t afford to be put away right now.

Upon seeing the Chief, it was clear that he was troubled.

Melissa had never liked this Chief, appointed by the higher-ups. He was a normal man embedded within a group of cyber lunatics, tasked with keeping an eye on them.

"Melissa, I know Ulan was your comrade, and his death has affected you greatly."

Seeing Melissa covered in blood, the Chief’s expression grew even more somber. These signs all pointed to Melissa’s mental state being extremely unstable.

If it were the Law Enforcers’ department next door, he would have suggested a few days off for suspension. But Melissa was different; she could very well storm the Counter-Intelligence Department building alone during her leave. The Counter-Intelligence Department had specifically mentioned Melissa’s name during the negotiations; they believed her emotional state was as unstable as Ulan’s.

There was a recording as proof.

Two agents from the Counter-Intelligence Department nearly came to blows with Melissa while they were bringing in Ulan. If Ulan hadn’t persuaded her to stop, the situation would have been difficult to calm down.

Despite arguing that it was the Counter-Intelligence Department’s agents who had escalated the conflict by busting in first, the High-level Parliament seemed to consider the department’s greater losses and therefore agreed to their demands.

The condition for putting the matter to rest was for Melissa to stop being investigated. He could only secure an investigation by the third party Military Intelligence Section Seven, to prevent her from retaliating against the Counter-Intelligence Department.

"Chief, just speak plainly."

"We’ve just had a meeting and believe you might need some time off. This is for your good, as well as for everyone else’s."

"I don’t have any plans to rest, at least not until there’s a clear explanation for the whole matter," she said.

"Sorry, just taking some precautions..."

The director did not give her any room to negotiate, but opened a drawer, took out a pistol, and aimed at Melissa’s forehead.

And at the sight of the gun barrel, Melissa reflexively reacted.

The swinging blade cut off the gun-holding right hand, blood splattered onto the pristine ceiling, and like an agile hunter, she leapt onto the table, the blade already pointing at the director’s throat.

Her movements were without a hint of hesitation, and deep inside, a flicker of joy even emerged.

Long ago, she had imagined a similar scene.

Whenever the director issued them with some rather unpleasant directives, these images would involuntarily surface in her mind, and now, she was turning fantasy into reality.

Just as the blade was about to pierce through the director’s throat, an electric arc swept through her brain.

Immediately after, a series of system errors bombarded her.

Her vision became obscured, and due to inertia, she fell to the ground; as consciousness was about to plunge into darkness, she heard the sound of doors being broken down.

Melissa suddenly understood Ulan.

No wonder he risked so much to go to the black clinic. If she had delayed by just a second or two, she would have been able to sever the opponent’s head.

"I’m okay, it was the prosthetic," she said.

Seeing the Military Intelligence Section Seven agents storming in, the director, still shaking, touched his own throat with his other hand, and it was only after Melissa convulsed into unconsciousness that his skin felt as if it could still feel the scorching sensation of the thermal blade.

He didn’t know which of his words had set Melissa off. He had just wanted to take out some documents for Military Intelligence Section Seven from the drawer when his arm was abruptly severed by her.

All this happened within a second; he hadn’t even had time to react before he saw his own arm, reaching for the documents, flying away.

"Her prosthetic has been deactivated, but you’d better keep a close watch on her," the director admonished the agents. He certainly didn’t want to offend the Counter-Intelligence Department only to have Melissa go on a rampage in Military Intelligence Section Seven.

He thought of something else and said to the two men, "Melissa’s mental state is usually very stable. Today, she was provoked."

"You don’t need to worry about what happens next," said the agent, pointing to the director’s empty arm, "You should head straight to the prosthetic hospital."

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

Before being taken away by Military Intelligence Section Seven, Melissa had chopped off their director’s arm.

A few minutes later, Jock received this news.

Despite some complications, the war had finally been pacified by them. Since the person had been taken away by Military Intelligence Section Seven, there shouldn’t be anything more for the Counter-Intelligence Department to say.

He had spent the entire day dealing with the mess stirred up by "Dominate."

And they were seemingly helpless against this "expert," because, when faced with truly difficult issues, they still needed him to intervene.

Like, for example, the upcoming Six Stars rescuer meeting.

To take them down, one would need to rely on an even stronger force.

And Jock had but one wish: that there wouldn’t be any more twists before the Six Stars rescuer meeting began, as he really didn’t want to hear those oppressive phone calls...

"Ding dong, ding dong—"

The cellphone on the table responded to Jock’s hopes, darkening his expression to the extreme; he almost wanted to smash the screen with a slap.

But seeing the incoming call display, he still answered.

It was a call from the head of the Law Enforcers department.

The caller clarified the reason directly, "Senator, I think there’s something you should know. Mr. Hog has just issued us an ultimatum to find out the cause of the recent violent incidents at any cost."

"Hog?"

Jock was almost amused with rage.

He completely failed to understand his old friend by now.

He remembered warning him not to meddle in these matters again. The only explanation was, Hog had truly gone mad, thoroughly mad, and he probably didn’t even know what he was doing anymore.

"I got it. I’ll get back to him on this," he said.

After hanging up, Jock dialed Hog’s number without delay, unable to vent the fury boiling within him.

But once the call connected, he had to patiently temper his tone, trying to sound as calm as possible as he asked, "I was just contacted by the head of the Law Enforcers department, Hog. I hope you can give me an explanation."

"They touched a member of the Foster Family."

"May I ask, which one of them is a member of the Foster Family?"

"The department head who was murdered by that thug Orman."

Hog knew that Jock would call him, so he had prepared a full set of reasons in advance.

And more coincidentally, he discovered that the director who was shot by Orman had boasted more than once about his connections to the Foster Family, even though he never knew such a person existed. But he decided that from now on, this deceased director would be his personally certified distant relative.

"Jock, you know how we operate," he said icily.

"The Foster Family takes revenge for any grievance."