light, short, scattered

Chapter 35 "Codename: K" Part [-]

When I came to my senses, I closed the safety on the shotgun and withdrew the bullet from it.

The fat man also returned to the passenger seat and threw a bag of food at me.

I fumbled around and took out the soy milk.

It's salty, and I always get this weird thing wrong.

I sighed and said, "What's the next task?"

The fat man smiled and said, "Wait, let me take a look."

The fat man took out his mobile phone and pressed it wildly: "I took a C-category mission and went to the slums to check for mutants."

"Another life-wasting task?" I said.

"Isn't it for your safety?" Fatty said with a smile.

. . .

Fatty is my second partner.

My first partner was named Franklin.

At that time, I was Franklin's assistant.

The things he is responsible for are similar to those of Fatty now.

Take the mission for Franklin.

There are usually three categories of tasks: Category ABC.

Mutants are only judged as to whether they are a threat or not.

The method of differentiation is more direct, as long as it is aggressive.

Even a little bit would be called a threat.

Mutants who pose no threat are called Category C.

The threatening mutants are called Category B.

Category A is a group of two mutants above Category B.

Franklin, on the other hand, only allowed me to take on Category A tasks.

Because Franklin was called a lone wolf.

He is really good, and he taught me all my skills in using guns.

Unfortunately, Franklin is a thing of the past.

. . .

Surveying the ghetto is the easiest mission in Category C.

He would go door to door with a book in the slums to register mutants.

Threatening Category B can be killed directly.

But mutants who pose no threat do have human rights.

How ironic.

But this way of enjoying it is very special.

They will be required to be chemically castrated before they can live like normal people.

Castration is to prevent them from passing on the mutated genes.

So more than [-]% of these people are poor.

And some threatening mutants will hide in the slums.

I knocked on the door, but the fat man stayed away.

"Who?" a voice came from behind the door.

"Police, census," I shouted.

The iron door slowly opened, and a skinny figure appeared in front of me.

"What's your name?" I said, holding a pen and paper.

"Ike." The skinny figure said softly with his mouth tightly closed.

"What ability?" I asked calmly.

Ike slowly opened his mouth, and dazzling lights shone from his mouth.

I took out the sunglasses from my pocket and said with a wry smile: "Shut up, is there anyone else in the room?"

"My cousin Dick." Ike replied softly with his mouth tightly closed.

"Let him come out, what ability." I subconsciously pulled out the shotgun.

The light was turned on and a man appeared in front of me.

"My name is Dick. I have no ability. I just have one more thumb than others." After speaking, Dick raised his right hand.

The thumb on his right hand has an extra thumb than a normal person.

Deformities were also forcibly included in category C a few years ago.

Just to reduce the probability of deformities for normal people, even people with deformities are classified as mutants and deprived of the ability to reproduce.

Don't ask me why he couldn't undergo a surgical excision and enter the category of normal human beings. Once he was born, he would be classified as a mutant.

Then the label will be with you for life, and if you are found pretending to be a normal person, you will be treated as B level.

Therefore, there are also jokes circulating around the world about two mutants with dicks being chemically castrated.

I pressed the button on my sunglasses, and the thermal imaging scanned the room.

After making sure there was no one else around, I slowly closed the door.

The fat man walked over slowly, smiled at me and said, "How is it?"

"What else can I do? Let's go to the next room." I took notes and walked slowly to the next room and knocked on the door.

One morning, half the district's slums were searched.

If there is no discovery, it is basically impossible to find anything.

Because this is the simplest task.

The sun was scorching the ground, and the crowds on the road were extremely sparse.

The fat man was sweating profusely and said, "Jack, I'm hungry. Let's have some fast food. I'd like to order a cone."

Ding Lingling~ The phone rang at this time.

I glanced at the number and saw it was the headquarters.

I answered the call.

"Call Viper."

"Viper got it," I said.

"Are you still searching civilian areas?"

"I've just finished my search and am leaving," I said.

"The Category A fugitive was found in the civilian area you were searching."

"Category A? How many people? What abilities?" I asked subconsciously.

"Just one person, I will send his photo to your phone."

"Pass it to Panda. My phone is not a smart phone and cannot accept pictures. A person? Why can a person be classified as Category A?" I asked doubtfully.

The fat man said from the side: "Send it to me? What do you want to send me?"

"The suspect's photo is Category A." I said.

The fat man closed his mouth and turned on his phone. "I don't have any information here at the moment. The source of the information is the red file. I have no right to ask questions. I can only answer that your suspect may have more than one mutant ability. Therefore, he will be separately included in Category A, waiting for you. good news."

Two accomplices of type B will be classified as type A, so can a mutant with two type B abilities be called A?
This is also the first time I've encountered this problem.

The fat man raised his phone and said to me, "Do you have any impression of this person?"

I looked at the images on Fatty’s phone.

A very normal child, no different from ordinary people.

The eyes are golden yellow, and there is basically no other information.

I frowned slightly, as if I had some reflection.

Looking through the notes in his hand.

Wait, I remembered.

He is a resident of 402.

An elderly woman and her child.

The photo in front of her is her child.

[-]% similar, except that the child himself is smaller than in the photo.

I opened the car door and said, "Mission, Category A."

The fat man looked at me with a dissatisfied look on his face and said, "No, why is there another mission?"

"Do you still remember the old man and the young man in Room 402 in the civilian area just now?" After I said that, I walked out and ran upstairs.

The fat man stared at the phone screen, scratched his head and said, "It seems true."

At the door of room 402, I pulled out my shotgun.

Load the gun, pull the safety, and knock on the door lightly.

The woman who opened the door was still in her sixties or seventies.

I directly raised the gun, pointed it at the woman's head and shouted, "Where's the child?"

I still remember this woman saying that she was incompetent and rented a house in a civilian area because she could not afford to raise her children by herself.

"Inside." The woman pointed towards the room with a trembling hand.

I took out the light stick from my pocket, threw it on the ground, stepped on it and kicked it into the room.

Then orange-yellow fluorescence illuminated the room.

I saw the child's appearance, and the child was staring at me.

A pair of golden eyes were particularly obvious, and he seemed to be still smiling at me.

I lifted alone and aimed at the child.

He glanced at the old woman next to him with caution, and placed his other hand in front of the old woman to prevent her from causing trouble.

Then he shot the child.

After the fire, the child was still standing there.

The bullet was indeed fired, and the chair behind the child was shattered.

Telekinesis?Teleport?Ghost system?Or did I miss?
Every imaginable ability comes to mind.

The child began to walk slowly towards me.

Walking straight towards me.

I aimed at him again.

The trigger was pulled and the shot was fired.

I stared wide-eyed to see what was going on.

I saw the child leaning to the left naturally, dodging the barrel of the shotgun and all the bullets fired.

The ground behind the child has been shattered.

The child is very slow.

I then fired a few more shots.

But the child used the same action to avoid my gun.

At this time, the child had already run in front of me.

I reached out to grab it, but he turned around and ran out of the room.

The child stood up and paused, and we looked at each other.

He was laughing, and it was a laugh.

I raised the gun again, half a meter away.

He didn't dodge, no matter how close the distance was.

It was impossible to avoid him because of his speed, so I pulled the trigger.

There was a click, but there were no bullets left.

The child turned around and started running away thinking about the distance.

Did he know I was out of bullets?Is this his ability?
So what exactly are his abilities.

Why does my shotgun miss?

. . .

"Franklin, why do you have to use a shotgun?" I said.

"Do you know why I can kill so many mutants?" Franklin said with a smile.

"Can't other guns also kill mutants? Shotguns are too easy to accidentally injure one's own people." I said.

"That's the second question, why am I called a lone wolf." Franklin said with a smile.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"First, because a shotgun never misses a close target. Second, because I don't want to miss a target." Franklin continued to laugh.

The nickname Lone Wolf came from because no one dared to stand and shoot with him.

A shotgun never misses the target at close range, but when I took Franklin's gun, it missed seven times.

. . .

When I came to my senses, the child had already run more than 20 meters.

The fat man ran over at this time and passed the child.

The fat man was panting and looking at me at a loss.

"Shoot, that kid is Category A." I said.

The fat man was stunned and shouted: "But."

"But what? He's running out." I shouted anxiously.

The fat man pulled out his pistol and fired.

hit.

But he didn't fall down at all, and the child ran away.

"Did you hit it?" I shouted
"Hit, but what I have is a signal tracking gun." Fatty said.

Looking at the fat man's figure, I don't intend to let him chase children anymore.

I pointed the shotgun at the woman's head and said, "What the hell is he."

"He is not my child, but my husband," the woman said.

(End of this chapter)