Invincible forensics

Chapter 3: "The Butcher's Knife Dissection"

Robert Downey's colleagues stood there, mouths agape in an "O" shape, looking at him as if he were a monster, bewildered by his sudden outburst. The crowd instinctively stepped back, feeling an unfamiliar fear from the sight of Robert.

His hair drenched in sweat and his eyes bloodshot, like someone suffering from pink eye, he clutched a b****y kitchen knife in his hand. Blood from the deceased splattered on him, his grimace making him appear as if he had crawled out of the depths of hell.

Old Toy lay on the ground, clutching his abdomen with a groan, unable to rise for a while, thinking, “How… how is he so strong?” Little did he know that if Robert’s body hadn't been weaker than before, that kick would have left him hospitalized for a day.

Robert had no time to explain. He crouched down beside the corpse, rolled up the woman's top, and deftly twirled the kitchen knife in his hand before placing it on her pale, swollen belly.

As he dissected the body, Robert didn’t use the traditional Y-incision or T-incision techniques of a forensic pathologist. Instead, he made a straight cut from between her ribs down through the navel, stopping above the pubic area.

Blood hissed out from the incision, accompanied by a strange smell from within the deceased, causing those present to involuntarily cover their noses. Some even turned away in fright.

Robert’s colleagues were at a loss, unsure whether to stop him or let him continue. That’s when someone knowledgeable among the crowd spoke up, "Don’t stop him, he’s trying to save a life."

Sweat poured off Robert's forehead; he paused periodically to wipe it away with his elbow. As each second ticked by, everyone watched with bated breath, not daring to utter a word.

At the moment the baby’s trembling foot slipped through the incision, everyone understood Robert’s actions and silently prayed for the baby’s survival.

With a swift “shing,” the blade gleamed as Robert severed the umbilical cord, pulling the fragile newborn from its mother’s womb.

“Waaaah!” The strong cries of the baby echoed in everyone’s ears, bringing relieved smiles to all faces. Applause erupted like thunder.

At that moment, the ambulance screeched to a halt, and Robert quickly wrapped his jacket around the newborn, handing the baby to a nurse. “Give the baby a full examination immediately,” he instructed firmly. Since the knife wasn’t a surgical tool and wasn’t sterilized, there was a risk of infection that could lead to severe complications for the baby.

After the nurse carried the baby away, Robert exhaled deeply. When he turned back, he saw the deceased woman seemed to be smiling at him—a grateful smile. Not just Robert, but everyone else felt the same.

“Your child is saved, rest in peace. I will find your murderer,” Robert vowed silently. Only five minutes had passed since the incident occurred.

Although the child was saved, the task wasn’t complete. Robert was acutely aware the killer might have slipped away during the commotion, perhaps even mingling in the crowd. He needed to find useful evidence before the rain washed it all away. Right now, the crime scene felt like Robert’s own stage for a solo performance.

“Is this… really him?” Old Toy muttered to himself, stunned, feeling like a stranger was before him. Everything—the unfamiliar methods, the different tone, the astounding dissection skill—exceeded his understanding.

Robert began with a preliminary examination of the victim’s body, then took out some paper and pen from his chest pocket, jotting down notes: “Victim is female, approximately 24 to 25 years old, high possibility of manslaughter or murder. The victim’s right palm and fingers have non-genetic line marks, suggesting she might be a surgeon or nurse. There’s pooling of blood beneath her head, likely indicating this was the primary crime scene.” Typically, forensic pathologists like Robert avoided definite terms, as most conclusions required thorough autopsies.

Continuing, Robert switched to another page to calculate several formulas. These were advanced formulas from the 22nd century to estimate the height from which a victim fell, based on variables such as the victim’s weight, the position of death, distance from the building, and building height.

However, Robert knew such calculations wouldn’t stand in a court of law in this era. But with rain imminent, which could wash away crucial evidence, he had no choice but to use these formulas quickly. They were complex—nothing like the simple Norman Tasks.

A deep rumble of thunder rumbled across the sky, making Robert startle. The formulas weren’t complete, and the thunder distracted him.

Faint sirens echoed from a distance. “Damn it!” Robert cursed, halting his calculations. He knew his standing—a regular uniformed patrol officer. Investigations were beyond his duty; he had no authority over this case.

“If the crime scene is compromised, I can’t allow evidence to be destroyed by rain.” With this in mind, Robert bent down, his eyes serving as magnifying glasses, scouring for evidence on the corpse.

His diligence paid off—Robert found two strands of broken hair on the woman’s collar, likely hers, judging by the color and texture. He then reached for the kitchen knife again, intending to cut a strand from the body’s head for DNA analysis and comparison. If the severed hair belonged to the suspect, this could be determined. Even without hair follicles, DNA technology in Country D could test for these traits.

At that moment, a cold g*n muzzle pressed against his head, and a lilting female voice commanded, “What are you doing?! Drop your weapon!!”

“c***k!” Lightning tore the sky apart, flooding it with darkness as rain poured down, extinguishing the flicker of hope in Robert’s heart. “Now all the useful evidence is ruined!” he thought, frustrated, yet without acknowledging the woman, he swiftly severed the crucial strand of hair he needed.