Barry Knows

In the lower city, at a Russian Gang nightclub, a crime scene.

Barry hurried, his sunny face etched with urgency, carrying the evidence collection kit, he jogged quickly to the scene.

The scene had already been cordoned off by colleagues from the lower city precinct. Barry took a breath, pulled out his Central City Police Department forensic technician ID, clipped it beside his jacket zipper, and, apologizing profusely, squeezed through the throng of reporters and onlookers.

Seeing Barry's ID, the cordonning police officers shielded him from the barrage of questions and microphones from all sides, allowing Barry to enter the crime scene with a sigh of relief.

Upon entering the nightclub lobby, Barry saw Al Swan, who was standing with his hands on his hips, his right arm bandaged, his hawk-like eyes scanning the scene.

Barry knew that Al Swan had been transferred to the lower city, and this new superhero in the lower city was Al Swan's first major challenge upon taking office.

Barry and Al Swan had a good relationship; they had often collaborated when they were at the main bureau. Or rather, Barry had a good relationship with everyone. His sincere, sunny, and hardworking personality made him get along with anyone.

"Hey, Al, sorry I'm late." Barry shifted his gaze from Al Swan to the surroundings, taking a slight, sharp intake of breath. In his career, he had never seen a more chaotic and brutal scene than this.

The entire lobby was in disarray. Tables and chairs were broken, bottles and glass were shattered everywhere. The smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of blood made one frown. Bullet holes were ubiquitous on the walls. The corpses lay with eyes wide open in death, or with heads blown apart by handguns, with pools of brain matter in several places. Police officers were taking photos, and forensic technicians were collecting evidence using tools like magnifying glasses and microscopes.

Barry suppressed a wave of nausea, his brow furrowed, goosebumps prickling his skin.

This Central City superhero was too cruel.

A body was being carried out by the police, passing by Barry. The corpse had a throwing knife lodged in its throat, and the handle of the throwing knife bore the inscription "Silver Glow" in two characters. Barry glanced at the two characters "Silver Glow" on the throwing knife in the throat, which made him pause.

He stood frozen for a long time, his brow furrowed, as if recalling something. After the body gradually disappeared from his sight, his gaze followed the throwing knife on the corpse. He pondered for a moment, trying to figure it out, but couldn't come up with anything.

He just felt that the shape of this throwing knife... it seemed... seemed like he had seen it before?

It felt a little familiar...

Unable to figure it out, Barry shook his head to dismiss the thought and began to open his evidence kit, put on latex gloves, and started to extract and examine fingerprints and traces left at the crime scene.

"It's useless. He was wrapped up so tightly, even the eyes under his mask seemed like darkness. I couldn't see anything." Al Swan glanced at Barry, seeing him scanning for fingerprints, his eyes cold, and said, "I can guarantee he won't leave any fingerprints."

"At least we know his shoe size is a 10. This size is a bit broad..." Barry pointed to a shoe print on the wall. It was a shoe print made by stepping in wine and then onto the wall, with dozens of bullets embedded nearby.

Barry and Al Swan could both imagine the perpetrator stepping on the wall, doing a mid-air flip to dodge bullets, leaving behind such a mark.

A US size 10 is approximately a Chinese size 44.

Barry suddenly thought that Alex seemed to wear a size 10.

But he quickly dismissed the thought, because he himself wore a size 10. Did that mean he was the superhero?

"More than that, we also know his weapons are two modified black Desert Eagles and Silver Glow throwing knives," Al Swan said in a deep voice. "But that's useless, Barry. I knew it from the first night he appeared."

Alex seemed to like the Desert Eagle quite a bit, didn't he? His first gun was a Desert Eagle. Barry remembered that the first person this gun was aimed at was himself.

Barry fell into thought.

"Barry, I really hope you can find something. When we've collaborated in the past, you've always been able to remind me from a different angle." Al Swan looked at Barry with eager eyes, then let out a deep sigh, loosening his tie that was almost suffocating him, and muttered a frustrated curse, "Fuck."

Barry remained silent, then gave a wry smile and shook his head. He was just a forensic evidence expert, assisting them in their investigation.

There were unprecedentedly few clues, and he was powerless.

"Or, we could try to figure out his ethnicity from his music choices. Asian? African American? Latino? German? English? Russian?" Barry squatted down, looking at the scene. A throwing knife caught his eye, its handle still bearing the two characters "Silver Glow."

"I checked. The first song was a Chinese song. Big data searches found nothing. It's suspected to be original. I suspect he's Oriental and we're investigating Chinatown, but that's probably a long shot. The subsequent songs were all English songs I'd never heard before, but undeniably, they were quite catchy," Al Swan said expressionlessly.

Barry was stunned. Catchy?

"I even suspect he's a musician," Al Swan glanced at Barry and continued, "His original theme songs are already circulating online... Some people are strongly demanding he upload the official versions..."

At this point, Al Swan rubbed his tired eyes, which hadn't rested enough, and squinted forcefully. He hadn't had a good rest in the few days since this Music Hero had appeared.

"I'm going to smoke a cigarette." Al Swan patted Barry's shoulder with a heavy heart, walked past him, and headed out to smoke.

Barry replied with an "Mm," nodding, his gaze sweeping across the crime scene. A glint of light caught his eye.

It was the Silver Glow throwing knife, stuck in a wooden block on a table.

Barry walked over and pulled the throwing knife out of the wooden block. The throwing knife was about the length of an index finger, its blade smooth, reflecting his thoughtful eyes.

A sense of confusion grew in Barry's mind. He really felt like he had seen this before.

He compared the throwing knife with his index finger. It was a little longer than his index finger, about several centimeters.

Suddenly!

Barry's mind exploded. He was stunned.

Three years ago, Alex's design for a finger-length throwing knife! He had seen it. And Alex had even used his own index finger for comparison. Barry had inadvertently noticed that Alex's slender index finger was several centimeters longer than his own, the same length as this throwing knife.

Alex's favorite handgun, the Desert Eagle.

Size 10 shoes.

Opening with a Chinese song, Alex had half Oriental blood.

Familiar things related to Alex flooded Barry's mind, flashing through his memory like a carousel.

Barry stood there, stunned for an unknown amount of time. Al Swan returned from his smoke and saw Barry in a daze, frowning in confusion and asking, "Barry! Barry, what's wrong?"

Barry snapped back to reality, shaking his head unnaturally, and said, "Al, do you have any footage of the Music Hero?"

"Yes." Al Swan nodded, his eyes deep in thought, and took out a notebook, starting to play a video shot by a passerby.

Basically, since the Music Hero's first appearance, passersby had shot a lot of footage, which had spread widely online.

After all, the Music Hero's entrance was too spectacular. He was already well-known from the moment he appeared, and there was no way to hide him.

Barry stared intently at the screen. He was familiar with Alex from childhood to adulthood. No one was more familiar with Alex than Barry.

Even though this man in black was completely covered, not showing an inch of skin, Barry was almost certain it was Alex based on his agile movements.

Various pieces of evidence combined with his familiar feeling