Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 351 - 222: Susan’s Anger, Headquarters’ Emergency Mission (Two-In-One)

Chapter 351: Chapter 222: Susan’s Anger, Headquarters’ Emergency Mission (Two-In-One)

"Wow, pal, you sure are lucky, all those guns and not a single bullet hit your head."

A bald black man with sunglasses, dressed in West Coast tight beach shorts and wearing a gold chain as thick as a thumb, flashed a mouth full of gold teeth in the sunlight.

This was the forensic officer sent from NW, a man who made a strong first impression.

Brian glanced at his watch and said in surprise, "Are you going to gather evidence with your eyes?"

"Aren’t eyes enough?"

The black man spoke with rhythm, "Right, I’m Bradgreen Ethan, Second Level Staff from the Internal Affairs..., in charge of dealing with your attack incident. You’ve got some serious strength, buddy. These guys died quickly. Any suspects?"

The guy’s name took him a solid ten seconds to say.

Brian nodded, "Okay, Gold Teeth, the suspect should be a board member from the Los Angeles Red Cross Blood Center. His name is Jonathan Armstrong, but I was pretty angry when I acted, I didn’t leave any survivors."

"Gold Teeth?"

The black man took off his sunglasses and looked at Brian for two seconds before nodding, "Nice nickname, but I prefer to be called Bieber, Big Bird Bieber, because my bird is really big."

With that, he beckoned, "Got it, you guys can go back, I’m going to deal with this board member now."

Tom pointed at a heap of bodies by the mountainside next to the car, "These bodies..."

"You guys are in forensics, right? Take them back, do an autopsy report yourselves, send it to the police station these corrupt cops belonged to. Let them deal with this matter with the police association."

Bieber waved his hand dismissively.

Brian hadn’t expected someone so rough to show up and said in reminder, "These corrupt cops should have been in phone contact with the mastermind behind the scenes. We can locate them through communications..."

He’d at least put up a facade in his official duties, some sort of token effort.

This guy seemed in a hurry to wrap things up and get home, giving off a very unreliable vibe, even less reliable than himself.

Brian was now worried that this man would complicate his own matters.

"No need, buddy. I see you’re decisive, not someone who dawdles. So, don’t bother with those pointless things. Just tell me who the suspect is, and I’ll go execute him. Then we all clock out, simple as that, okay?"

Bieber waved his hand impatiently, remounted his heavy motorcycle, and left first.

Watching his retreating figure, Tom’s eyes showed admiration, "Brian, to be honest, I really like this guy’s personality. It’s right up my alley."

This black man named Bieber had a way about him, like when Tom played video games: I don’t know the strategy, I don’t know the story, I only know I want to go on a killing spree...

...

Collecting bodies, cleaning up the scene.

There was some trouble in the process.

A private car passing by saw Brian and his partner loading bodies, which were still in highway patrol uniforms, and they immediately reported it to the police, resulting in seven or eight police cars surrounding them.

Two nearby public security office armed transport vehicles and an armored car showed up as well...

Actually, this was the typical posture of the United States police when facing thugs: group beatdowns and overpowering force.

If the thugs were hiding inside a building, it would be even more desperate because the wealthy LAPD would choose to violently dismantle the house with an armored car and then crush the thugs.

The result was that these people ended up helping Brian and the others carry the bodies.

But everyone’s mood wasn’t great.

Even though everyone knew about the corrupt cops, seeing the bodies of their fallen comrades was still unsettling.

As Brian and his car drove away, a young face turned to a senior officer, "I really don’t understand, how were they killed barehanded in the face of four armed police officers."

His senior officer, a slick veteran of over twenty years with more than twenty administrative leaves, was quite well-known locally.

The middle-aged officer spat on the ground and said, "Because that blood-covered pretty boy isn’t normal. NW has a lot of those types, which is why they now hold such power."

"Not normal?"

Some officers who weren’t privy to much insider information also looked towards the veteran for more.

Another older policeman chuckled,

"It’s like the monsters in the movies. Don’t inquire too much; it’s not interesting.

You must understand this is a capitalist country - the more you get, the greater the risk.

I had the chance to join them thirty years ago, but I declined. Now, I visit my colleagues who did join every year. They reside not far from Thyssen Park."

Hearing this, those with thoughts of their own fell silent.

Near Thyssen Park was a cemetery...

...

On the way back, Brian spontaneously bought a transforming toy car and pre-ordered a birthday cake, then wrote a note for the clerk to deliver it to the address.

For this, he paid an extra fifty US dollars in tips to ensure the clerk would complete the task properly.

Back in the car.

Tom curiously looked at Brian, "A friend’s birthday?"

Brian shook his head, "A friend’s kid’s birthday."

Actually, this was the obsession of one of the corrupt cops he killed: to deliver the needed gift and birthday cake to his son.

The gift was the transforming toy car.

Brian, due to his own stance, had killed the man, but it did not stop him from fulfilling the man’s obsession.