Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 190 - 151: Come on, keep showing off, or you’ll get shot if you don’t (Extra 1 for the ’Post-80s Fisherman Alliance Leader’)

Chapter 190: Chapter 151: Come on, keep showing off, or you’ll get shot if you don’t (Extra 1 for the ’Post-80s Fisherman Alliance Leader’)

Peter was numbed when he saw that the visitor was Brian.

He thought the person who came was from the NW Ministry of Internal Affairs to assess his injuries, but it turned out to be the very person he had complained about...

He had made the complaint call in the morning.

The main character arrived in the afternoon.

Was there any justice left?

Was there any law left?

Peter took a deep breath, his cheeks still bearing the marks from last night’s beating, and tried to force a smile, "Could there have been some misunderstanding? I was just suggesting that the NW Operational Department enforce the law more civilly."

Brian looked at him in surprise, "Dude, do you have amnesia?"

"What?"

"Weren’t you the one asking others to hit you yesterday?"

"Yes, but..."

"Didn’t the guys disregard their suits and civility, and choose to indulge your strange fetish by taking a hand?"

Peter...

He looked at him playing dead and fell silent.

Brian sighed deeply in anguish, "We’ve already met your demands to this extent, and that’s still not civilized law enforcement?"

"I’m sorry...", Peter looked up at the towering Brian, his lips quivering, and in the end, he chose to bow his head, "I was a bit petty, drank a bit too much, talked nonsense, and did some foolish things that caused trouble for you."

"Being petty is not a good habit."

Brian handed a folder to Peter, "Fortunately, I’m forgiving. Don’t hold it against you, come on, sign this for me, and learn to be more like me in the future. Don’t be a backstabber."

Peter...

He numbly took the folder, and then stood completely still.

The reason he was stunned was not just because of the confession letter stating ’Abusing official position for drug trafficking and smuggling’ in the folder, but also the soft package underneath it.

As a former investigator who had mixed in with an anti-gang unit, Peter knew exactly what it was.

This bastard!!!

He was half angry and half afraid, trembling his lips and looking at Brian with pleading eyes, only to meet the other’s smiling gaze.

Those beautiful eyes held no warmth, looking at him as if they were looking at a dead man.

"Does the content on the paper make it difficult for you?"

Brian leaned in close, his voice lowered, "Or do you feel that you don’t agree with the content above?"

"I was wrong!" Peter was genuinely scared now, begging, "I am just a disgusting bug, a self-righteous disgusting bug. I will never appear before you again, please, let me go!"

When he felt the soft package, he finally realized that this impeccably dressed and clean man in front of him was truly a villain through and through, a hundred times more vile than him, a outlaw without any scruples!

Too cruel!

He had just made a complaint against the guy, and the other party was ready to frame him for drug trafficking, with evidence all prepared!

He thought of how he had just made a complaint and the other party immediately used their power against him.

Peter was truly scared now!

Why was he so stupid to provoke such a person?

After being beaten up, he even dared to make more trouble?

Peter now wished he could travel back to yesterday and join the crowd beating him up.

Such a good life wasted, just asking for trouble!

A foul mouth can really hurt!

Eventually, after Mr. Peter wept and acknowledged his mistake, as a generous man, Brian still gave Peter another chance and didn’t make further trouble for this loudmouthed, petty man.

After leaving...

Brian casually tossed that package of flour into a street trash can.

It really was just a package of flour.

...

It was after ten at night.

Brian left the hospital morgue, disappointed.

Since the last breakout, he had been drained, without any Gift Energy reserves left in him.

He had several obsessions on hand, but none could be completed immediately.

Having no stockpile made Brian feel very insecure.

He thought about it and decided to take advantage of the night. He pulled out the black hood he carried with him, changed his shape and face, slipped on the hood, and hurried toward the next hospital.

This time, Brian deliberately did not drive out to stretch his limbs.

Ever since his body had broken its limits.

A casual effort from him was a thousand pounds; a minor burst of effort, along with bodily technique, approached two thousand pounds of force. If speed was added to a charge, a single kick could even dent and displace a several-ton car.

By comparison, the body of an average person was far too fragile in front of him.

At work, Brian always had to hold back, afraid that one slap would crack someone’s shoulder or snap their head.

The thrill of running and parkouring freely through the streets, unconcerned in the still of the night, was truly exhilarating.

...

The journey of several miles took just a short while.

Brian didn’t even feel out of breath.

First, he used his Night Vision ability to check the surveillance at this hospital, then, like Spiderman, climbed along the wall to a changing room, changed into a white lab coat, put on a mask, and without avoiding the elevator cameras, took the elevator straight to the morgue.

The security was sound asleep.

Brian approached, pinched gently, and knocked out the security, picked up the ledger, checked the storage number, and silently made his way inside.

This time, he finally made some gains.

This was the obsession of a seventeen-year-old boy with leukemia: If only I were braver, I could at least tell Angel I liked her...