Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 122 - 107: New Obsession, Are You Freaking Eight Years Old? (Extra 2 for Alliance Leader ’曲罢不知人在否’)

Chapter 122: Chapter 107: New Obsession, Are You Freaking Eight Years Old? (Extra 2 for Alliance Leader ’曲罢不知人在否’)

"Hehe~"

The clown hadn’t expected to encounter such an interesting person and let out a sharp, hoarse laugh, "You’re not afraid of me?"

Brian was also afraid of scaring the other guy away.

As he walked along the fence, he said, "As a law-abiding citizen of the Federation, it would weigh on my conscience not to report a murder."

The not-so-tall clown, dragging a bloody hammer, followed Brian’s pace through the mesh fence, "What do you want?"

"This is my conscience, the most precious thing to me, and you want to buy it off," Brian tossed a stone he was holding, "You’ll have to up the price!"

"Hehe~"

The clown looked at the fence that would soon end, smiling delightedly, "Okay."

Things had come to this.

It would be improper not to kill this man.

Brian also appeared very happy.

To take down Susan’s backing family and to acquire deeper research materials on Mutants from the NW organization, he needed to keep climbing the ranks to attain a higher position.

Without a prominent family background, he could only rely on the reputation and merit he gained from solving cases.

The clown in front of him was a stepping stone on his path to power.

The two stopped talking, leaving only the sound of the clown’s hammer, dragging a long blood trail across the cement and clanging in the deep of night...

...

The few dozen meters of the fence passed in the blink of an eye.

The clown tilted his head, looking up at the tall man in front of him, the smile beneath his mask growing twisted, "Why aren’t you afraid of me? What gives you the right not to be afraid of me? You must be afraid of me!"

With no tall fence in the way,

without waiting for Brian to reply,

the clown, without saying a word, raised the twenty-something pound hammer and, with a whooshing sound, swung it viciously toward Brian.

Feeling the formidable force concentrated on the hammer, Brian was slightly startled.

The clown, being only a little over one meter sixty, had surprisingly great strength.

Only, his speed was a bit slow.

Brian tapped his toe, sliding backwards to avoid the hammer blow.

But then,

in the next instant,

under such strong inertia, the clown managed to swing the hammer following the motion, unscientifically turning the strike into a sweep, even more fiercely aiming at Brian’s midsection with added momentum.

Under supercomputer perception,

Brian’s stomach caved in eerily, narrowly avoiding the hammer again.

"Eh~"

The clown hadn’t expected Brian to dodge again and became more excited. With both hands, he swung the hammer as easily as if it were weightless wood, and with the mastery of a hammer, he shifted his moves lightly, trampling over Newton’s coffin lid.

Brian was even more perverse.

Under his talents of supercomputer perception and body control, he danced a mechanical dance, narrowly avoiding the clown’s hammer each time.

Over and over,

even the obviously unnatural clown began to run out of physical strength.

Bloodlust flared in his eyes, "What makes you think you can defy me!"

The next moment,

the clown closed his eyes and, in a world of sound, pinpointed Brian’s location, swung with rotational force, and the hammer that should have swept toward Brian was instead thrown in a fierce smash that landed on Brian, who could not dodge in time.

Listening to the dull thud of hammer on flesh,

the mouth corners beneath the clown’s mask curled upward.

He’d hit the target!

He opened his eyes, wanting to see the fear on Brian’s face.

The next moment,

the clown stood dumbfounded.

He saw his large hammer seemingly embedded in the chest of the tall man in front of him, absolutely still.

"Is that it?"

Brian, somewhat disappointed, removed the hammer trapped by his muscles, swung it in his hand, and said, "I wanted to see if you had any special abilities, but it turns out your strength and speed were mediocre, and aside from your keen perception, you’re completely useless."

He had sustained internal injuries from the blow, but they healed in a blink, and he did not feel that the clown had any particularly sensational powers.

Imitating the clown’s movements, Brian dragged the hammer on the ground, walking step by step toward the clown, "Your turn is over, now it’s my turn to play."

The clown, now empty-handed and without his hammer, seemed to have lost his courage as well.

"Monster!"

He cried out in fear and turned to run away.

But his short legs couldn’t outrun Brian, the embodiment of human physical limits.

Brian closed the distance in three great strides, and with the eruption of a few hundred pounds of force, the hammer stamped viciously onto the clown’s back.

With a heavy thud,

the clown’s short stature was sent flying, crashing hard onto the ground and coming to a stop after sliding three or four meters.

Curled up, driven by an intense will to live and spitting blood, he crawled forward and even let out fearful cries, "No, don’t hit me, mommy, mommy, save me..."

This sudden change almost threw Brian off.

He considered the clown’s previous sharp, hoarse voice.

It left him wondering,

Could this guy be a Mutant going through puberty?

But Brian had no sympathy.

Evil knows no age.

He thought of those victims who died horribly.

You own up to your mistakes; you stand straight when you’re punished!

Brian stepped on the clown’s back, raised the hammer, and aimed it at the struggling hands, slamming it down hard.

One blow after another.

With each strike,

Brian felt his soul clearer, as if receiving the baptism of spiritual particles from the departed, his mental state becoming more stable.

This sensation was addictive.

Amid the screams, the clown finally experienced the pain and fear his hammer victims had felt before their deaths...

Until a red Obsession Little Ball slowly emerged.

Brian dropped the now bloodied hammer,

wiped the blood from his face, and crushed the little ball.

A single obsession came to mind: He must make his brother, Pier, afraid, he absolutely must!

This time, it was entirely different from Brian’s previous encounters with obsession!

He could actually feel the power of choice within the obsession!

Brian’s spirits lifted!

This change must be related to his evolution in that small town on the border of Mexico!

The Gift ability had evolved.

My own ability, naturally, had become even more formidable!

With a thought from Brian, a few items immediately surfaced in his mind: Gift Energy 20, Auditory Enhancement, Master Hammer Technique.

He could choose one out of the three, or select a modest amount of energy, plus one skill or talent.

Just as Brian had previously speculated.

An obsession gift always came with energy.

As for skills or talents, it all depended on luck.

Good luck, and the talents decide the skills; you could get almost anything, just like Mad Dog Ike and Transformer.

Bad luck, and you end up like now.

This clown was indeed a Mutant, probably with decent potential, but only had the talent for Auditory Enhancement, the Master Hammer Technique, and some decent strength. Likely during the mutation, he wanted too much, which is why his abilities were so scattered and lackluster.

However, Auditory Enhancement wasn’t too bad.

It was tantamount to further enhancing the versatile talent of Supercomputer Perception.

Brian was curious.

Would he in the future also accumulate Visual Enhancement and have a budget version of Thousand-Mile Eye and Wind-Ear?

...

Since the scene was quite gruesome.

And since it was late at night, his colleagues were probably asleep.

Brian contacted headquarters directly.

It concerned a Mutant.

On their part, headquarters was indeed efficient.

In less than forty minutes,

a military jeep appeared on the dilapidated basketball court.

Several fully armed soldiers, led by an acquaintance, jumped out of the vehicle and walked towards Brian.

Brian was sitting on the steps, smoking a cigarette he had found on the victim.

Upon seeing the leader, he exclaimed in surprise, "It’s you?"

The visitor was the commander of the armed helicopters from the other day.

"Yes, it’s me. I’m on duty today, and when I saw it was your message, I applied to lead the team over," the team leader extended his hand to Brian. "By the way, I’m Orba, Sequence Soldier B."

Brian shook hands with him and briefly explained the situation.

Seeing the clown’s gruesome death,

Orba and a few soldiers fell silent.

Orba licked his lips, "Brian, I remember your main job is an Autopsy Officer, right?"

Brian was a bit embarrassed, "Sorry, I had previously injected the S-T cell activity serum, and recently I’ve had several other enhancement reagents. My strength and speed have increased significantly, I got carried away and couldn’t control it in the heat of the moment."

"How are the effects?" Orba asked with interest.

Everyone had a different compatibility with reagents, and even if injected with the same reagent, the enhancement effects and limits varied greatly and there were no rules.

Brian described nonchalantly, "I haven’t had specific tests, but my strength is around four to five hundred jins, and I can do a hundred meters in less than ten seconds. My endurance isn’t bad either; at least today I ran at least twenty to thirty miles and fought a battle without feeling tired."

Orba and several soldiers were once again silent.

Fuck!

Jealous!

Their teeth were aching with envy!

Orba managed a smile, "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone with your potential, buddy. How about considering joining our Combat Department? With us, you can play with a lot of big toys that you can’t see in the market. Absolutely thrilling!"

Despite some fear of Susan and her T-Rex mother, Orba still mustered the courage to recruit.

He didn’t want to miss out on such a potential asset.

But Brian decisively shook his head, "Forget it, joining you guys, who knows how long it would take to earn a few points of merit. The action department is more thrilling."

Thinking of how, in just over a month, Brian had earned more than two hundred points of merit.

And this time, there had been gains, more or less.

Orba and several soldiers fell silent once more.

Orba couldn’t maintain his smile, "Well then, Brian, you’re sequence staff, but not a leader, so you can only choose between money or merit, which one will it be? If this guy is a Mutant, do you want the monetary reward or the merit reward?"

"Give me the cash, I’ve got too much merit already, and I need to exchange it for money, so just give me cash."

Orba didn’t want to continue listening to Brian’s humblebrags.

He darkly signaled the soldiers to bag the body sticking to the ground, ready to leave.

But Brian pulled him aside, "Orba, let me ask you something. I looked at this fellow’s appearance, he seems to be only fifteen or sixteen, is it true that people this age are more easily influenced by the Blood Moon?"

Orba nodded,

"Yes, the younger the children, the less concept of right and wrong they have, only the instincts of an animal.

Their emotions are also much more straightforward.

To a certain extent, children between 6-16 years old are more prone to mutation.

Therefore, we often conduct thorough investigations into such families, to prevent familial mutations."

Saying so,

he licked his lips, his eyes showing a ferocious intensity, "This is also a major source of our merit points."

A flicker of interest passed through Brian’s eyes; he stepped forward and whispered a few words into Orba’s ear.

Orba pondered for a moment, nodded, and left with his men.

Half an hour later,

the duty patrol police, having received the message, also arrived to handle the aftermath.

With that, the clown murder case, being related to a Mutant, was closed directly!

Brian had solved another case.

...

The next day.

During the day of Halloween.

Following the information Orba gave, Brian came to a filthy, small family-run, and old butchery.

This place was the clown’s home.

The clown was seventeen years old, a developmentally delayed dwarf. His parents ran a butchery and had an eight-year-old brother.

Brian was curious.

After becoming a Mutant, the clown had continued to kill and likely grown much stronger, at least before encountering Brian. The clown’s stature had increased significantly, and his strength was nearly three hundred jins.

In such circumstances, why was he so fixated on making his eight-year-old brother scared?

Including at the time of the murders, the clown’s goal seemed to be to enjoy the fear of the victims.

Could it all be because of his brother?

With this curiosity,

Brian walked into the butchery, reeking of blood.

...

Momentarily,

staring at the hefty figure in front of him, over one meter eighty and even larger than himself, Brian fell silent.

Are you seriously eight years old?