Chapter 142: The Hunt Has Begun

Senator Stan arrived at a residence—not his own home, but a villa he had purchased for his mistress.

At the mere thought of that warm, full chest, Senator Stan felt a surge of irrepressible excitement.

He rubbed his hands together and said excitedly, "My darling, I'm coming."

Just as Senator Stan opened the door, he caught sight of a dark figure standing inside the room.

Michael was clad in bat armor, gazing intently at Senator Stan.

"Senator Stan, it's been a while."

He nudged the unconscious college girl on the floor with his foot, unable to hold back a sigh at how adept this chubby bastard was at playing around.

Trembling, Senator Stan drew his handgun, pointed it at Michael, and shrieked, "Who are you?"

Michael smiled and said, "You've forgotten me already? You really are a person of high rank with a short memory."

Since the other person spoke entirely in a synthesized robotic voice, Senator Stan simply couldn't tell who it was.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll shoot."

Senator Stan bluffed.

He kept his voice deliberately loud precisely to summon his bodyguards.

Hearing the commotion outside, the two bodyguards immediately rushed over, raising their guns and aiming them at Michael.

"Don't move."

With the two bodyguards protecting him, Senator Stan finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"If you turn back now, it's not too late."

Michael chuckled dismissively, entirely unconcerned as he continued to walk forward.

The two bodyguards decisively opened fire, but when the bullets struck Michael's armor, they merely kicked up tiny sparks without leaving even a single scratch.

Michael strode right up to the pair, knocked them both out with direct strikes, and then continued his leisurely approach toward Senator Stan.

Seeing that bullets were useless, Senator Stan panicked and fled in terror, running all the way out into the courtyard, where he tripped and fell.

Yet he was too terrified to stop, desperately dragging himself forward until a pair of legs blocked his path.

Terrified out of his wits, Senator Stan raised his head to see the man in bat armor lift his foot without a moment's hesitation and bring it crashing down.

Senator Stan's vision went black, and then there was no and-so-forth.

Tristan returned home from the base in high spirits. Just moments ago, he had received a message from his wife saying she had good news to share with him.

Though he had no idea what it was, he still felt a sense of eager anticipation.

As soon as Tristan stepped into the house, he was struck by a distinct smell of blood. He instantly turned alert, drew his handgun, and walked slowly into the bedroom.

To his utter disbelief, what came into view were the corpses of his brother and his wife.

"How can this be?"

He lunged forward like a madman, only to pull back the blanket and discover that both of them were completely naked—a reality that made it even harder for him to accept.

Michael walked in from outside, gazing at this little family with a complex look in his eyes.

He had originally intended to deal with him and his brother and then leave, but he hadn't expected to walk in on two people engaging in rigorous exercise.

Well, as it turned out, that saved him the trouble of a trip to his brother's place.

"Thank me. I've taken care of the person who cuckolded you."

"Ahhh~~"

Tristan raised his handgun frantically and fired wildly at Michael.

Michael smiled and said, "You people are all so cute. You always have to test things with a gun, otherwise you never give up hope."

Michael also drew a pistol and fired a shot straight at Tristan's head.

The bullet blasted right through Tristan's brain and carried straight through the wall behind him.

Michael gave a light chuckle and said, "Look, our gear is simply not in the same weight class."

He was reveling in the joy of killing, venting the repressed emotions he had harbored for so long.

More than a dozen government officials had met brutal deaths, spanning three distinct spheres—military, political, and commercial. This quickly triggered widespread alarm within the authorities.

Especially since all these victims shared a common identity, plunging everyone into a state of panic and paranoia.

The police investigation moved at a rapid pace, but unfortunately, the information they gathered was pitifully scarce, leaving them utterly baffled.

Given their resources, tracing the hidden connections behind these victims proved immensely difficult.

"Marcus, any discoveries?"

Mike walked over and asked his partner.

Marcus pried a bullet out of the soil and said, "This bullet is specially customized. It might give us some clues."

Mike took it and examined it, thoroughly certain he had never seen bullet markings quite like these.

"Well, it certainly is special, but there's nothing on it."

Aside from naturally formed patterns along the sides, there were no distinctive symbols whatsoever. The entire bullet was impeccably smooth; if you strung a cord through it, it could pass for a necklace.

Marcus continued, "It pierced a skull, punched through a wall, and went clean through a guardrail without deforming. A bullet like this must be made of some kind of special material. Come on, let's check out the other crime scenes."

Soon enough, they arrived at Senator Stan's home, gazing at the dried blood on the lawn and the massive footprints.

Mike gestured with his hand and said, "Those aren't normal human footprints."

Mike glanced around, noticing some uncleaned brain matter dried onto the ground, which churned his stomach with disgust.

Marcus, however, paid it no mind. He crouched down to examine the footprint and said, "To crush a skull with a single stomp and leave a flat boot print behind means the perpetrator possesses immense physical strength and hard soles. He was likely wearing some kind of armor."

"A medieval knight?"

"Perhaps something far more advanced."

Marcus spoke with deliberate implication.

"An iron suit? Stop joking around. That kind of stuff only exists for superheroes."

Marcus stood up and said earnestly, "You guessed right, and it's highly probable."

Mike froze for a moment, then said, "You've got to be kidding. Those are heroes—superheroes."

"I didn't say he was a hero."

Marcus said nothing further, merely patting his shoulder before walking into the house.

Looking at the discarded bullet casings indoors and the bullet holes in the wall, he noted, "Two bodyguards opened fire on the man at the time, but not only did the bullets fail to penetrate his body, they actually ricocheted off, injuring one of them with a stray round."

Marcus finally realized they were dealing with a criminal of superhero caliber.

"Could it really be a superhero?"

"I only said it's possible. But there are plenty of people out there who possess enough capability yet have no desire to be a hero."

Marcus hesitated for a moment before adding, "We should call them super-criminals."

"Super-criminals."

Mike chewed on the term for a moment, then said, "I feel like this kind of job should be handled by superheroes."

"The threat and intimidation caused are too minor; they won't care. And even if they did care, they wouldn't know how to handle it."

"Let's go."

"Where to?"

Mike asked, somewhat puzzled.

Marcus replied, "To the police station, to get the files and testimonies. This guy didn't wipe out everyone in a frenzy; the living witnesses should know something."

Mike climbed into the car after Marcus and muttered offhandedly, "I don't think this guy's killings are random at all. He definitely has an ulterior motive, otherwise he wouldn't have left witnesses at the scenes."

"Maybe he just wanted someone to bear witness to his slaughter, who knows."

"No, this guy moves swiftly and acts with absolute calculation. This is definitely not random murder."

Marcus looked at his colleague and nodded with a touch of emotion; he had finally decided to take the case seriously.