Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 350 - 221: Four Kills, Trouble, Running Out of Body Bags (First Subscription Bonus 8)_2

Chapter 350: Chapter 221: Four Kills, Trouble, Running Out of Body Bags (First Subscription Bonus 8)_2

Brian looked down at his chest.

Clumps of blood slowly seeped out from his white shirt, dying his costly shirt into a garment of blood.

The other three finally reacted, preparing to shoot.

In their subconscious, at this distance and with so many guns, a normal person would be a dead end.

Unfortunately, Brian didn’t give them another chance.

Evidence left,

Brian stopped toying with kids.

He flashed forward, appeared in front of the leading officer, and slapped him across the face.

With a smack,

The man’s head burst open like a watermelon, drenching his three colleagues in a mess.

They looked on in stunned silence at what had just unfolded before them.

Were they dreaming?

Just one slap, just one slap!

Their colleague’s head had exploded!

Even as corrupt cops with a history of violence and blood on their hands, the shock of this exaggerated scene had them frozen.

Too weak.

Brian’s right hand produced three afterimages.

The three dazed officers clutched their throats and slowly fell.

The whole process was easier than killing a chicken.

After all, chickens still run, but these three were like idiots.

...

After dealing with the four corrupt cops,

Brian flashed his watch again, contacted NW headquarters via satellite, and explained the situation before softly saying,

"I cooperated with everything, yet I was shot fifteen times in the chest.

If I hadn’t been lucky, wearing the simple bullet-proof vest beneath my shirt, carrying treatment reagent, and not getting shot in the head, by now I and my partner would already be dead.

I need the person behind this to give me an explanation, or I will blow this matter up!"

"Situational update received, someone will contact you shortly. Do you require emergency medical response, Officer Brian?"

"Not needed, but I need headquarters to send someone to take photos and gather evidence!"

After hanging up,

Brian turned and smiled at Tom, who was peering out cautiously and hiding in a pile of weeds, having returned to the scene, "Come out, Tom, it’s safe now."

Hearing Brian’s voice, Tom rushed out in sheer joy, "God, Brian, I heard the gunfire and thought you were shot dead."

It wasn’t until he saw Brian covered in blood that he panicked, "FK, you’ve been shot, lie down, I’m calling for emergency medical rescue right away!"

Brian nonchalantly patted his bloody shirt, "This is just some procedural requirement. Didn’t you really want the Enhancement Reagent for healing? This time someone is providing it for free, and the case of the female celebrity will be handled by someone else taking care of the murderer."

"Ah?"

Tom was taken aback.

But he didn’t think too hard about it and just turned his gaze to the several tragic bodies next to the car.

Truly tragic.

One body was without its head.

Masses of blood plasma and brain tissue stuck to the car and ground, looking extremely disgusting.

The other three officers were also in a bad state, kneeling neatly on the ground with their heads tipped back, revealing their indented, twisted throats, like boneless, strange dolls with haunting death poses.

All these... were they the work of Brian?

Were Enhanced humans this powerful?

...

While waiting for the NW personnel to arrive,

Brian and Tom sat cross-legged.

Tom had already taken the keys from the bodies and unlocked the handcuffs.

Brian, relying on brute strength, tore off the handcuffs and collar that were on his wrist, leaving Tom feeling both envious and anticipatory.

This scene, seen with my own eyes, really was awesome.

He rubbed the bruises on his body left from the previous rolling and collisions, feeling a bit anxious, "So, the case is really solved, and we can get compensation?"

Brian nodded,

"The opponent was stupid to actually choose to mobilize dirty cops for the shooting.

Such a thing is highly taboo, so that person’s superiors will personally take care of the opposition and will even present us with a gift as compensation.

The rest need this kind of attitude to stabilize their emotions."

After several instances of extortion, Brian had become quite adept at dealing with such matters.

Assassination is a double-edged sword, also the crudest means of problem-solving.

Normally, only when absolutely necessary would respectable people wearing shoes resort to such measures.

So, that so-called mastermind behind the scenes was clearly an idiot, and God knows who chose him as their pawn—it’s really unlucky.

However, all this was predicated on Brian’s formidable strength.

The dead have no value.

Revenge means nothing to the dead.

Having been through so much, Brian was increasingly an advocate of personal might makes right.

He couldn’t guarantee that future enemies would play by the rules, but he could ensure that he had the ability to twist the heads off any rule-breakers.

..

Next, Brian briefly discussed the details of the case with Tom.

Especially the things the Blood Association had done.

Tom had been a detective before, with a wealth of experience, and had heard about such matters, sighing, "Capital is disgusting, especially those squid groups; I suspect they’re the dark force behind the Blood Association."

"Why?"

Brian didn’t expect that Tom actually had some information.

Tom shrugged,

"Simple, do you know which country is the largest organ trade nation in the world?

It’s the one founded by those bastards!

Many media companies are also under their control.

I really despise this race, do you know how many nations have expelled them?"

Without waiting for Brian to ask, Tom lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and continued,

"Let me tell you, based on the history I studied in university, ever since there has been recorded history, this race has been wandering and getting expelled.

Basically, every country they’ve stayed in has expelled or even massacred this race.

If it happens in one country, it might be the country’s problem, but when it’s recorded from the beginning of history, without exception, it’s the race’s problem.

That’s also why when they came to the United States, they were obsessed with putting down roots in the media and Hollywood because they knew that if they didn’t control these channels, their foulness would be widely spread.

I have a premonition, perhaps in ten to twenty years, the United States will also raise the butcher’s knife against this unfaithful race."

Brian didn’t expect Tom to have such depth.

He had no idea that Tom had a history degree—Tom had never mentioned it.

When Brian got to know him, Tom was already a scene investigator at the Forensic Bureau, looking feeble every day, only energetically talking about games.

There’s no helping it, his injured body can only support playing games now.

The two chatted idly for a while.

It was evident that after the incident where Brian kicked him out earlier, Tom became much more confiding in Brian, sharing many past experiences he had never mentioned before.

Suddenly.

Brian seemed to remember something important, looking at Tom, "Buddy, I just remembered something very important."

Tom’s expression tensed, and he gripped the handgun at his waist, "What?"

"Do we still have four body bags in the car?"

Shoot, looks like we’re short on body bags.

Facing Tom’s baffled expression, Brian raised an eyebrow, "Killing and collecting the bodies, giving the dead their due respect, that’s our professional ethic as autopsy officers."

Tom: "..I see that now, Brian, you really are an autopsy officer with professional ethics, believe me, if you weren’t in front of these still-warm bodies, making such ghastly jokes would be even more ethical."

The two looked at each other and burst into hearty laughter.