Talent: Wrath, Kill!

After arriving at the cemetery.

Brian was in no hurry to fulfill the obsession.

He first went to the tombstone of the single mother, Emmaline Keller, laid down a bouquet of flowers, then sat down. Facing the bleak evening wind, he told her how little Ellie had been adopted, how Andreas had died an unnatural death and received his retribution.

In truth, he knew.

In this world, there was no such thing as retribution.

If he had not acted.

The worst outcome for Andreas would have been nothing more than going to prison to work a sewing machine and pick up soap. He might even have enjoyed it. If he got sick, there would be medical care. If he felt wronged, there would be free therapists. He could also frequently enjoy the so-called humanitarian care packages and letters sent in by those idiots on the outside.

It really was ironic.

After pouring out what was on his mind.

Brian let out a long breath of pent-up gloom and felt much better inside.

He had spent a long time at the medical examiner's office.

He had seen far too many varieties of human nature.

There were those who, for insurance fraud, staged accidents and killed their own sons and daughters.

There were junkies who locked up their mothers, wives, and daughters for others to play with in exchange for drug money.

As for things like that.

Brian had long since gone numb inside.

Even so.

He was still moved by what had happened to Emmaline Keller.

Good people.

They should not have to go through something like that!

And those bad people.

They had no right to enjoy humanitarian concern either!

Brian clenched his fists, and the pleasure he had felt that day when he drove the screwdriver into Andreas's neck rose uncontrollably in his mind.

He seemed to have found the true way to cure his mental illness!

The silver moon hung overhead.

Brian, who had been lost in thought for a long time, waited until the cemetery was completely empty before walking to the tombstone next door and silently undoing his pants.

A moment later.

A distinctive warm current flowed into Brian's two kidneys.

At the same time.

A sudden understanding rose in his heart.

This time, after fulfilling the obsession, the gift he received was a passive talent: Wrath!

"Wrath?"

Brian was somewhat baffled.

He understood passive talents.

But what was Wrath supposed to mean?

Under extreme anger, he got a little angry?

Looking at the night crow watching him from the dead branches in the cemetery, and at the tombstones around him that seemed much gloomier now.

Brian thought about it, but in the end, he did not dare try it out in such an unsafe place.

He would do it after going back.

After leaving the cemetery.

Brian got into the car, inserted the key, and switched on the headlights, illuminating the dim surroundings.

He had just been about to start the car and return.

A handgun silently extended from the back seat and pressed against his head!

"My wallet is on my chest. I'll close my eyes and won't look at your face."

Brian obediently raised both hands and stayed perfectly still, showing that he had no intention of resisting and posed no threat.

Click.

A cold sensation came from his raised hands.

By the time Brian reacted, his hands had already been cuffed with silver handcuffs.

"Get out."

The handgun pressed against his head was withdrawn.

A heavy voice came from behind him.

Brian glanced at his waist. In the end, he chose not to risk a desperate move and obediently got out of the car to stand there.

Enhanced Scent seriously affected daily life once activated, and it drained a lot of mental energy too, so he usually kept it off. He had not expected to hit the jackpot today.

By the light spilling from the car, Brian also got a clear look at his attacker.

The man was a tall, middle-aged white man in a suit, with an LAPD badge pinned to the right side of his collar.

That kind of outfit was usually exclusive to plainclothes detectives.

This guy was a detective from the Detective Bureau!

And Brian felt the man looked somewhat familiar, but he could not remember where he had seen him before.

"Buddy, is this some kind of misunderstanding? I'm—"

He tried to throw out his identity as an NW Department member to protect himself.

Before Brian could finish, the next moment, the white detective threw an uppercut that slammed heavily into Brian's stomach, hitting him so hard his mouth gaped open. He wanted to make a sound, but the pain made it hard even to breathe. He could only hunch over, half-kneeling on the ground, losing the ability to resist.

The white detective took advantage of the moment to put Brian down on the ground and searched him expertly, throwing the sidearm he had just received, his ID, and everything else all over the ground. Only after confirming that Brian had no room to fight back did he haul him up again and toss him into the open space in front of the car.

He put away his pistol, took a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and drew in a deep breath. Only then did he exhale smoke and say in a deep voice, "Mr. Brian, it's good to see you again. Now you can tell me how you killed Andreas."

"Cough, cough."

Brian struggled to stand.

He spat and looked at the man in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about. Also, have we met?"

The white detective shook his head, then threw another uppercut, knocking Brian to the ground again. "I was the one who delivered Andreas's body to the medical examiner's office. I was following behind your colleague at the time."

"Cough, cough."

This time, Brian spat out threads of blood.

He struggled up from the ground again and looked at the white detective in front of him as if he were insane. "Just because I came over to visit a poor victim, you think I'm the killer who murdered Andreas?"

"Keep pretending." The white detective looked at Brian like he was watching a clown. "After eight o'clock, no one shows up here except that Drunken Gravedigger. We have plenty of time to talk tonight."

Looking at the man under the headlights, wreathed in smoke, his face unclear, Brian showed a helpless and angry expression. "I only came because I got a message from a colleague and felt sorry for what that miserable mother went through. Besides, I don't know what you're talking about. Didn't Tom tell me Andreas was the killer, and that he killed himself out of guilt?"

"I don't understand why you people are so stubborn."

The white detective threw away his cigarette butt, picked up Brian's temporary NW Department member ID from the ground, patted it, and said with a smile, "Do you know where your flaw was?"

Hearing the certainty in the man's tone, Brian stopped speaking and only lowered his head silently.

The white detective, however, seemed to enjoy the process.

He continued, "Andreas died too cleanly.

The killer was professional. The fatal wound was fast, accurate, and ruthless.

That means the killer was very familiar with the structure of the human body. That was your first flaw!

Your second flaw was that you acted too quickly.

Andreas killed his wife and neighbor, then died in a hotel right after.

He was antisocial and had no friends. At the time, he reeked of alcohol, was filthy all over, and it was the early hours of the morning. Aside from you, your colleague Tom, and the patrol officers on duty that night, no one knew what had happened to Andreas."

"Tsk, tsk." The white detective tossed Brian's ID back at his feet. "A righteous forensic assistant, sharp-nosed when it comes to solving cases, hating evil like an enemy, rushing ahead of the police to kill the murderer. What explosive bloodthirsty forensic material.

Unfortunately, you ran into—"

"Are you done?"

A low, hoarse voice came from beneath Brian's lowered head.

The white detective froze.

What?

He instinctively looked toward Brian, only to meet a pair of bloodshot eyes.

A shudder surged into his heart.

The next moment, dust flew up from the ground.

A blur appeared in front of the white detective in an instant. Both hands rose high like axes, carrying a whistling wind as they smashed down heavily.

There was a crisp crack.

The white police detective, weighing well over a hundred and eighty pounds, hit the ground limply with his head cocked to one side and his eyes wide open.

Brian panted heavily as he looked into the man's eyes, dead but still open. A ferocious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Now that you're done talking, you can go die!"

The man had been right.

There was no one around.

He had plenty of time now to deal with the body.

Sorry, I'm a little late.

The main reason is that my computer kept showing a black screen for some reason, so I had to type this on my phone. I'm really not used to it.