Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!-Chapter 436 - 254 6 (7500 words combined in two parts, additional - s 5 and 6 for May monthly tickets)_3
Chapter 436: Chapter 254 6 (7500 words combined in two parts, additional Chapters 5 and 6 for May monthly tickets)_3
They squatted there, occasionally stopping passing vehicles and leaning in to whisper something.
Some of the older youth with gang insignias dispersed around, hands shoved in their pockets, vigilant for any rival gang members or cops.
This one is about selling powder and leaves.
These gangs really like to recruit kids into the industry.
It’s cheap, and if they get caught, it’s hard to pin it on them.
Because a child’s testimony needs parental consent.
Those parents aren’t afraid of the police, but they fear the gangs and would never consent to their children testifying.
Brian helplessly withdrew his gaze.
Why hadn’t the killer shown up yet? novelbuddy.cσ๓
He hadn’t seen any suspicious persons scouting the area.
Could it be that this time the killer chose to kill at random?
With that thought, Brian cast his eyes towards the parking spot below.
His beast of a motorcycle was parked right beneath him.
Someone had better not touch it... hm?
Brian raised an eyebrow.
There really was someone who dared.
There, in front of his motorcycle, stood a small figure.
At the figure’s feet lay several young African-Americans styled in West Coast fashion, and a pickup truck was parked by the curb.
It seemed that this group had had their eyes on his precious bike for a while and waited until there was nobody around to drive over in their pickup, intending to lift the bike and flee, but someone had just arrived and stopped them.
How could Brian be so sure that the black men lying on the ground had just appeared?
Because it took less than two minutes to scan the area below.
These people had appeared during those two minutes.
Good Samaritans were rare these days.
Without a second thought, Brian leapt from the rooftop of the twenty-plus-story building.
Every few meters, he extended his palms, swiftly tapping against the building’s edges to cushion his fall. Within a couple of breaths, he descended from the sky and appeared in front of a black man reaching for his waist, delivering a kick that sent the man flying four or five meters.
After kicking the black man who was about to shoot, Brian turned his attention to a long-haired white youth standing in front of his motorcycle, "Nice moves, but you lack vigilance, you..."
"Why did you interrupt my game?"
The long-haired white youth tilted his head, looking at Brian with a strange gaze.
Brian: ...
This guy...
From above, due to the angle, he hadn’t noticed the other’s appearance.
Now that he was closer, Brian realized that there was something off about this long-haired white youth.
The man’s hair was slightly curly, his complexion ghastly pale under the light, his eyes sunken, bags under his eyes black, and his pupils rolled upward, a rare condition called sclera showing, giving off an uncomfortable vibe.
"Game?"
Brian narrowed his eyes slightly, "Are you a game enthusiast?"
The long-haired man shook his head, "No, I work at a psychiatric hospital, doing some research work."
"It seems researching mental disorders is tough; you don’t look well," Brian slowly edged closer, "By the way, my name’s Brian. What’s your name? Do you need help?"
The long-haired white youth, his head tilted, watched as Brian drew closer.
Suddenly.
He turned his head towards the motorcycle parked by the curb, "Is this your ride? It looks pretty nice."
"Indeed, it is nice; it cost me a lot of money and it’s a limited edition."
Brian was now just five meters away from the man.
At this distance, it was almost as if they were face to face.
The long-haired white youth nodded, "The bike is worth the money. By the way, my name is Sudan, Brian? That name sounds very familiar; I used to have a neighbor whose dog was named that. He was too noisy later on, so I fed him chocolate. Do you like chocolate?"
Listening to the other’s frivolous words, Brian knew, this guy was the prey he had been waiting for.
But he hadn’t expected this prey to appear not on the overpass, but at his observation point.
Was it a coincidence, or something else?
He was unsure, so he hadn’t acted immediately.
Seeing that Sudan was willing to talk,
Brian wasn’t in a hurry to act either.
He took out a cigarette from his pocket and placed it in his mouth, "So how did you kill them? It sounds like psychological suggestion, but I don’t understand how you achieved that effect."
"It’s simple."
Sudan seemed not to have talked to people in a long time.
He snapped his fingers, a sickly smile appeared on his face, pointing to the black men lying on the ground:
"Just like them, start by offering hope, then gradually shatter it."
