Blood Moon Reward, Death Mission Begins
1022 Words
Bruce never expected that he would easily complete an obsession quest just by hearing the news that the little girl Ellie was safe and sound.
“But what about this reward?” This doubt just popped up in his heart.
Almost instantly, those blood-red points of light that had earlier merged into his body were like a subtle stream of warmth that quietly traveled throughout his body, eventually gathering in the weakest parts such as his waist and spongy body.
That feeling, like countless pairs of gentle little hands massaging in synchronization, made Bruce so comfortable that he unconsciously squinted his eyes.
“Whew ...... so good ......”
“Hey.” Dempsey, who was on the side, stared at him with a weird look and raised an eyebrow, “Man, why do you look like you're ...... enjoying yourself?”
“Huh?” Bruce then came back to his senses and awkwardly straightened his collar, “It's fine, it's fine, I was just wondering ...... why the murderer spared the little girl upstairs.”
“This kind of thing we don't blindly guess, specifically wait for the police to investigate.” Dempsey yawned, “It's getting late, go home early and rest, we still have to be busy tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Bruce didn't go home immediately after leaving the small room.
He quietly returned to the morgue and pulled several bodies from the freezer, examining them one by one.
But there was no sign of the little red ball, whether it was a recent arrival or one that had been parked for days.
“Sure enough ......,” he murmured as he looked thoughtfully above the empty corpses, ”these obsessions ...... are afraid to exist for a limited time. ”
Leaving the Bureau of Forensic Medicine.
He parked the car casually on the side of the road, ripped open his shirt, and couldn't help but stroke his reappearing abs, the corner of his mouth hooked up with a perverted and satisfied smile.
“It's back ...... my f*****g abs ...... are really back!”
Bruce muttered to himself excitedly.
After fusing the blood light, not only was his fatigue swept away, even his waist and the shriveled spongy body, which had been in hidden pain for years, were revitalized.
“This feed, it's too topsy-turvy!” He couldn't help but lament, as if his entire being had been recharged with batteries.
Although it is still hard to say how much it has been strengthened specifically, but at the very least ...... that alarm that could lead to sudden death at any time has been lifted.
Moreover.
Through this experience of completing the obsession, Bruce also has a deeper understanding of his golden finger mechanism.
The corpse obsession, the probability is the thing that the deceased couldn't let go of the most in life.
Like Claire Whitmore, before she died, she was most worried about her young daughter Ellie, so the obsession is also “to protect Ellie to live”.
“Just ......” he frowned, ”how do you determine whether the obsession is complete or not? Are the rules materialistic? Or is it determined by the subjective perspective of me, the 'executor'?”
But it was useless to think about it too much.
Since his mental problems, Bruce had always had a rule: no internal conflict.
He shrugged it off and pulled his attention back to another unfinished obsession-killing that son of a b***h Logan!
Monica's husband.
According to the information, he was the very person who had reported the crime.
If this obsession was true, that meant it was highly unlikely that Logan was the killer.
“Then ......” Bruce lit a cigarette, his gaze cold, ”in order to get the feed, I have to do it faster than the detective bureau.”
Once under the control of the police, Logan enters the judicial process and he will never have the chance to fulfill his obsession.
Finishing his cigarette, Bruce twists the tip out with his fingertips, carefully pockets the butt like his eldest, restarts the car, and disappears into the night.
......
Half an hour later.
He changed into his disguise, donned gloves, hood and mask, parked his car in an inconspicuous location, and stalked down the side of the alleyway, avoiding cameras like a ghost.
Eventually, he stood in front of the target building.
A two-story single-family home with a neat lawn and white picket fence, a typical middle-class neighborhood scene.
A cordon was drawn around the front door.
The address was correct - this was none other than Logan's home.
Bruce wasn't planning on sneaking in now. He knew better than that the police process - for this kind of home invasion murder, there was usually an open or concealed watch.
Pretending to be a late passerby, he swept the front lawn of the house and, sure enough, found a note at the mail organizer.
“If you have any mail, please forward it to the Little Sparrow Inn, room 304.”
Got it.
Bruce immediately withdrew and disappeared at the end of the street.
Back in his car, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Luckily, no patrolman had just shown up out of nowhere.
“Little Sparrow Inn ......,” he repeated softly.
The choice was less like a police-arranged drop-off point and more like Logan's own private selection.
It was close to three in the morning, and the front desk of the hotel was most likely already closed for the night.
Surveillance?
Heh.
The corner of Bruce's mouth lifted.
He'd seen how too many veterans avoided those things.
“Do it early, get some peace of mind.”
Bruce's eyes sank and his grip on the steering wheel tightened, “End you tonight ......!”
*****
Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for reading and being part of this journey!
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- Writer
