Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 139 - 122: Cross Me, and I Can Only See You Off

Chapter 139: Chapter 122: Cross Me, and I Can Only See You Off

The Original Sect was an organization originating from the mutants of Africa.

Not long before, this organization had suddenly pulled together a bunch of clueless thugs and attacked twelve teams of the NW Operation Division, completely annihilating Team B1, leaving only a few lucky survivors who were not there at the time.

Brian’s colleague Tom was one of them.

This incident was somewhat related to Brian.

At that time, the members of Team B1 were investigating a vicious "butcher" who had bombed the leader of Team A1. Through the butcher’s mask and outfit, they happened to probe into a key figure of the Original Sect and straightforwardly eliminated them.

It was then that the Original Sect sent people for retaliation.

The butcher was actually Brian.

Seeing their letter, Brian realized that his life, which had just stabilized for a couple of days, was about to be disrupted again.

He returned to his house.

Brian opened the envelope.

Inside was only a piece of paper exuding a fishy smell.

On the paper, written in blood from an unknown source, were three strings of abstract Federation script:

I have discovered you.

If you don’t want to expose yourself, come immediately to the Smith Circus.

I will be watching you!

At the end of the letter, there was a pair of blood-red eyes.

It seemed that the person who drew it wasn’t very cultured, making it look like a child’s doodle—other than being somewhat eerie, it lacked shocking power.

...

"Interesting, discovered me?"

Brian stroked his chin.

He didn’t know whether this was a probe or they had really discovered him.

After all, mutants had many abilities and he hadn’t acquired the ability of "Pheromone Control" + "Body Control" when initially acting as the butcher; it was possible that his own pheromones were left behind at the scene.

The problem was, after killing the leader of Team A1, Susan had dragged him back to the crime scene the next day.

At that time, he had a visible identity!

Even if someone used a similar olfactory mutant ability, they shouldn’t have been able to pinpoint him just by the scent, right?

Brian pondered for a moment, then gave up.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Regardless of the reason, as long as everyone involved was dead, he would still be respected as an esteemed Autopsy Officer!

"Why can’t I live a peaceful life without these pests constantly bothering me?"

Brian shook his head, carefully stored the letter, left his residence, and went to a secretly rented safehouse upstairs, concealing all his pheromones. He took a thorough shower, changed into new clothes, put on a clown mask, and carefully sniffed the fishy letter.

The fresh pheromones remaining on it suddenly rushed into Brian’s mind.

He walked to a mirror, twisted his neck, and under the dim light, the clown mask on his face revealed a colorful, cold, wild, and insane smile...

...

Leaving the apartment.

Brian didn’t rush to track the origin of the pheromones but first went to the nearest independent safehouse.

This was one of the safehouses left by his uncle Billy.

The house was registered under the name of a salesman who roamed around the world; Brian was uncertain if such a person really existed, but he found that this person had complete tax and shopping records each year, likely managed by someone specially hired for that purpose.

These details were not important.

What was important was the equipment.

Upon arriving at the underground chamber in the house.

Brian looked at the massive amount of armaments, even a large box of high-explosive grenades, and the corners of his lips under the mask curled upward.

Such a comforting sense of security!

He picked and chose, donned a tactical vest, selected a Glock 17 he frequently used, fitted ten standard magazines, slung a silenced automatic rifle with ten magazines on his back, and adorned himself with eighteen high-explosive hand grenades on a tactical belt.

A fully-armed riotous clown appeared in the chamber.

However, all these were just routine preparations.

Brian moved past this not-so-long wall of armaments and approached a refrigerated cabinet, opening the door.

Inside were rows of transparent crystal balls, displaying yellow and green colors—Biochemical Bombs.

This was the infamous VX agent bomb; its interior contained a colorless, odorless oily liquid that would form neurotoxin gas upon contact with oxygen, exhibiting astonishing lethality, prepared by Uncle Billy as a final countermeasure for himself.

To put it simply.

An egg-sized VX agent bomb in Brian’s hand contained enough poison gas to harm nearly a thousand people, causing hundreds of fatalities.

Of course, these are just theoretical numbers.

The spread of the substance mainly depends on the air. Upon detonation, the VX component reacts with the air to form a colorless, odorless neurotoxin, which can also be deployed in water sources, forming poisoned water.

The best method to achieve widespread damage is to disperse it, creating a toxic circle or using planes to spray or missiles to block off areas completely.

However, because it is excessively toxic, it has been banned as a weapon.

The most suitable use for VX agent bombs is to be placed in highly populated public areas and water treatment plants to create a deterrent.

It is easy to carry and has a not insignificant success rate, making it a favorite among terrorists.

However, its production is difficult, requiring professionals and cutting-edge equipment.

Most organizations do not have the capability to produce it.

Brian wasn’t clear on how his uncle had managed to acquire these items.

But seeing them kept safe, it was clear that the FBI Hunting Team and those fools had no idea who they were messing with.