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墨書 Inktalez
In the police station's conference room, the air was as oppressive as a storm about to break.
Emma Ross sat in a corner of the table, her coffee long cold, but she had no mind to drink it.
The sheriff and several high-ranking officials were engaged in a heated argument, their tones growing increasingly frantic as documents were slammed onto the table with sharp, echoing sounds.
"We haven't slept in forty-eight hours! But every time we get close to a lead, that bastard disappears like a ghost!" shouted a senior detective, his eyes bloodshot, pounding the table with anger and exhaustion etched on his face.
"Your efficiency is abysmal! From the very first murder, you should have intervened more forcefully. Now look at this mess—he's burned down an entire block! How are we supposed to explain this to the citizens?!" another official yelled, gesturing angrily at the sheriff.
Mayor Rain sat at the center of the conference table, his face dark with anger, brows furrowed deeply as his fingers tapped slowly on the surface. He remained silent, knowing that this argument was pointless.
The series of brutal murders had escalated from gang-related violence to bomb attacks; each incident bolder and harder to manage than the last. The media had already painted this madman as "The Reaper"—a nameless specter hunting criminals and challenging authorities.
"This behavior constitutes terrorism," a Federal Agent finally spoke up, his tone low and serious, underscored by an undeniable pressure.
"We need stronger measures. Neither the police nor the city government can allow this person to continue wreaking havoc."
Mayor Rain paused for a moment before slowly responding, "Give me a name."
He scanned everyone in the room, his voice grave. "I don't care how you do it; I just want a name, and then I want that person gone."
Emma took a deep breath in her corner, lowering her gaze to sift through the documents on the table until her eyes landed on a surveillance screenshot—
It showed a blurry figure turning away amidst flames, like a ghost returning from hell.
Mayor Rain stared intently at the surveillance screen, his eyes burning with rage that seemed capable of scorching the very display.
On the screen, the figure of a man was shrouded in flames and smoke, moving with a calm demeanor and an upright posture. He showed no signs of panic; if anything, he exuded a sense of "mission."
Rain clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white as his nails dug deep into his palms.
That damned bastard—Carter Black.
He had returned, and he had brought destruction with him.
The pressure on Rain was immense, like a mountain pressing down on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.
On the surface, he had to immediately "take a stand," mobilizing all law enforcement resources to hunt down Carter, for this madman had plunged the entire city into chaos.
He burned gang territories, killed gang members, and blew up hideouts. Yet amidst this turmoil, a strange voice began to spread—
Some people were starting to support him.
The downtrodden, angry Veterans, and voters utterly disillusioned with the government… they cheered for this "Grim Reaper" on social media, calling him the only hero brave enough to fight against corruption. Some even began to publicly question Rain's capabilities.
As Carter's destruction grew more frequent, his support seemed to rise, which was something Rain could not tolerate.
"This is him declaring war on me."
"He wants to tear everything I have apart; he wants to prove that I am nothing but a fraud…"
Rain's gaze grew increasingly cold, but what truly gnawed at him was not just the issue of declining support—
The forces of the Underworld had begun to apply pressure on him.
“Rain, control your city, or we will handle it ourselves.”
This was the last call he received last night. There was no threat in the tone, for it was not a threat at all—it was an ultimatum.
Carter was not only destroying the order of this city but also severely damaging the gang's business.
In just two weeks, he had killed over forty people, blown up six drug trade locations, and destroyed three arms warehouses.
This was no longer a matter of “revenge”; it was a war.
Rain's breath became heavy as he shifted his gaze from the surveillance screen. He forced himself to calm down, took a deep breath, and then slowly spoke, his voice low and cold:
“I want his head.”
His eyes scanned everyone present, his tone leaving no room for doubt:
“No matter what means you use, whether it's the police or our friends, I want this man gone within this week.”
The sheriff pressed his lips together and looked down at the documents on the table without saying a word.
The Federal Agent squinted meaningfully; they understood all too well that Rain’s implication was clear—if the police couldn’t solve it, then let the gang take action.
The conference room fell into a dead silence.
Meanwhile, Rain's hand remained clenched into a fist. He told himself that he would win this war against Carter.
Mayor Rain's face was ashen, and without saying another word, he left the conference room with a stern expression, leaving behind a group of police executives and Federal Agents who exchanged glances in confusion.
As the door slammed shut, the oppressive atmosphere erupted.
"Damn it... this is a disaster!" one agent muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples in an attempt to make sense of the chaotic situation before them.
"He hardly has a fixed hideout, never stays in one place for more than a day, and his movements are erratic with no warning," a detective flipped through the files in his hands, his tone laced with frustration and shock. "And his counter-surveillance skills are exceptional; he always manages to shake off our monitoring and tracking as if he knows what we’re planning next..."
"Don't joke around," another Old Agent took a deep drag from his cigarette, slowly exhaling. "That guy is a professionally trained Veteran; for him, this kind of thing is as natural as breathing... What we're hunting is not an ordinary criminal but a battlefield killer on the level of an Operation Code."
"Not only that," a Young Officer furrowed his brow, his voice low. "His actions are almost unrestrained, completely lacking any moral boundaries. Each time he strikes, it's brutally vicious, leaving no chance for survival. He doesn't seem human... more like a beast that tears apart its prey."
Silence fell over the room. This method of killing transcended their understanding of "revenge" and resembled more of a "slaughter."
"What's worse..." another intelligence officer tapped on the data report in his hands, his voice trembling slightly. "We've found that his popularity is rising; more and more people from the lower classes are starting to see him as a Dark Savior, speaking out for him online, and some even express their willingness to help him..."
"If this trend continues, we won't just be dealing with Carter but an entire group of his Death God Followers!"
"At that point, this city will truly face destruction."
The conference room fell into silence once more.
Their enemy was not just Carter himself but an impending wave of turmoil ready to spread.
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