Barry Knows

Lower City, Russian Gang nightclub, crime scene.

Barry hurried toward the scene, his sunny face tense with urgency. Carrying a forensic evidence kit over his shoulder, he jogged the rest of the way.

The scene had already been cordoned off by colleagues from the Lower City Police Precinct. Barry caught his breath, took out his Central City Police Department forensic specialist ID, clipped it beside the zipper of his jacket, and kept apologizing as he squeezed through the packed crowd of reporters and onlookers.

Seeing Barry's ID, the officers on guard blocked the questions and microphones thrust at him from every direction, allowing him to enter the crime scene with a sigh of relief.

The moment he entered the nightclub's main hall, Barry spotted Al Swan. He stood with his hands on his hips, his right hand wrapped in bandages, his hawkish eyes sweeping over the scene.

Barry knew Al Swan had been transferred to Lower City. This newly emerged Lower City superhero was the first problem Al Swan had faced upon taking office.

Barry and Al Swan had a good relationship. They had often worked together back at headquarters. Or rather, Barry got along well with everyone. His sincere, sunny, hardworking personality made him easy to get along with.

"Hey, Al, sorry I'm late." Barry shifted his gaze from Al Swan to the surrounding area and sucked in a slight breath. Since entering the profession, he had never seen a scene more chaotic or brutal than this.

The entire hall was a mess. Tables and chairs had been smashed, countless bottles and shards of glass lay everywhere, and the stench of alcohol mixed with the bloody smell of fresh blood made people frown. Bullet holes riddled the walls. The dead stared wide-eyed, and there were several places where victims had been shot in the head with pistols, leaving brains splattered across the floor. Police personnel were taking photographs and collecting evidence from the criminal scene with forensic magnifying glasses, stereomicroscopes, and other tools.

Barry suppressed the nausea rising in his throat. His brows drew tight, and goosebumps prickled across his body.

This Central City superhero was too brutal.

The police were carrying out a corpse when it passed Barry. A throwing knife had been driven into its throat, and the words "Silver Glow" were engraved exquisitely on the hilt. Barry glanced at the Silver Glow inscription near the victim's throat, and it left him stunned.

He stood there for a long time, deep in thought, his brows slightly furrowed as if trying to remember something. After the corpse gradually left his sight, his gaze continued following the throwing knife on it. He thought hard for a while but came up with nothing.

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

It felt a little familiar...

Unable to make sense of it, Barry shook off his thoughts, opened his forensic kit, put on rubber gloves, and began lifting and examining the fingerprints left at the crime scene.

"It's useless. He was wrapped up completely. Even his eyes beneath the mask seemed like darkness itself. I couldn't see them." Al Swan glanced at Barry, saw him dusting for prints, and said in a cold voice, "I can guarantee he didn't leave any fingerprints."

"At least we know he wears a size 10 shoe. Though that size is a little broad..." Barry said, pointing at a footprint on the wall. It was a print left after someone had stepped in spilled liquor and then planted a foot on the wall. Several dozen bullets were embedded nearby.

Barry and Al Swan could both imagine the protagonist of the scene stepping onto the wall, flipping through the air, narrowly dodging the bullets, and leaving behind that mark.

An American size 10 was roughly a Chinese size 44.

Barry suddenly remembered that Alex seemed to wear a size 10 as well.

But he quickly dismissed the thought. He wore a size 10 too. Did that mean he was the superhero?

"Not just 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 Desert Eagles quite a bit, didn't he? The first gun he had bought was a Desert Eagle. Barry still remembered that the first person Alex had aimed that gun at was him.

Barry sank into thought.

"Barry, I really hope you can find something. Whenever we worked together in the past, you were always able to remind me of things from another angle." Al Swan looked at Barry with hope in his eyes, then let out a deep breath. He tugged at the tie that was nearly choking him and helplessly cursed, "Fuck."

Barry fell silent, then gave a bitter smile and shook his head. He was only a forensic evidence specialist, assisting them with their investigation.

There were fewer clues than ever before. He was powerless as well.

"Or perhaps we can determine his ethnicity from his music choices. Asian? Black? Latino? German? English? Russian?" Barry crouched on the floor and surveyed the scene. A throwing knife entered his view, and the hilt still bore the words Silver Glow.

"I looked into it. The first song was in Chinese. A big-data search turned up nothing, so it's suspected to be an original. I suspect he's Eastern, and we're investigating Chinatown, but it's probably a long shot. The next few were English songs no one had heard before, but there's no denying they sounded pretty good." Al Swan said expressionlessly.

Barry froze. Pretty good?

"I even suspect he's a musician." Al Swan glanced at Barry and continued, "Several of his original entrance songs are spreading online... People are strongly demanding that he release official versions..."

At that, Al Swan helplessly rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes. Exhausted, he squeezed them shut hard. Since this Music Hero had appeared, he had not gotten a proper rest.

"I'm going out for a smoke." In a heavy mood, Al Swan patted Barry on the shoulder, walked past him, and headed straight outside to smoke.

Barry answered with an "Mm," nodding as his gaze swept across the crime scene. Then a flash of brightness entered his field of vision.

It was that Silver Glow throwing knife, embedded in a wooden piece of a table.

Barry walked over and forcefully pulled the throwing knife from the wood. It was about as long as an index finger, its blade smooth enough to reflect his thoughtful eyes.

The sense of doubt in Barry's mind grew stronger. He really seemed to remember this.

He compared the knife to his index finger. It was a little longer than his finger, by roughly several centimeters.

Suddenly!

Barry's mind exploded with a boom, and he went completely blank.

Three years ago, Alex's design drawing—a throwing knife the size of an index finger! He had seen it. Alex had even compared it to his own index finger. Barry had noticed by chance that Alex's slender index finger was several centimeters longer than his, exactly the same length as this throwing knife.

Alex's favorite handgun, the Desert Eagle.

Size 10 shoes.

A Chinese song for an entrance. Alex had half Eastern ancestry.

One familiar thing about Alex after another surged into Barry's mind, spinning through his memories like a revolving lantern.

Barry stood frozen for who knew how long. When Al Swan returned from smoking and saw Barry's dazed appearance, he frowned in confusion and asked, "Barry! Barry, what's wrong?"

Barry snapped awake. His expression was unnatural as he shook his head and said, "Al, do you have any footage of the Music Hero?"

"Yes." Al Swan nodded, his eyes thoughtful as he picked up a laptop and began playing videos recorded by passersby.

Basically, ever since the Music Hero first appeared, passersby had recorded quite a bit of footage, and it had spread extremely widely online.

After all, Alex's entrances were simply too flashy. The moment he appeared, everyone knew about him. There was no way to hide.

Barry stared intently at the screen. He had known Alex from childhood to adulthood. No one knew Alex better than Barry.

Although this man in black was covered from head to toe without exposing even a sliver of skin, Barry was almost certain from that agile moving figure alone that this was Alex.

All the evidence, combined with that familiar feeling...