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Chapter 205: Ch.204 Concentrated Chicken Soup

Gin ignored all of this and stayed there to wait for the two of them.

Avenging Angel, now wearing the chainmail armor, seemed a bit uncomfortable, but Su Ming soon dragged him up the side of a building using grappling hooks.

They quickly leaped between rooftops, soon reaching the roof of the forensic center.

Looking down at the cars and people bustling below, Avenging Angel had to admit that he was beginning to enjoy this feeling of being above it all.

Feeling the responsibility on his shoulders, the wind, mixed with the exhaust of the city\'s cars, filled him with a sense of purpose.

But Su Ming was already at work, using his Godkiller blade to dismantle the door that led from the rooftop to the lower floors. The sound of steel twisting and breaking brought the doctor back to reality.

"Are you planning to fight your way in?" Dr. Holloway asked, surprised, his expression hidden behind his mask. He always carried the mask and guns that Two-Gun Kid had given him, so the green steel helmet Su Ming had prepared hadn\'t been needed.

"Of course. Should I have applied for a permit from the White House?" Su Ming joked, turning his head with a smirk. "And by the way, those two guns in your hands are unregistered too."

The doctor only became more certain of his original assumption.

Of course, this man had high-level clearance. He could act however he liked, and someone else would clean up the mess. All he had to do was follow along.

Dr. Holloway didn\'t say another word. Instead, he made a gesture, inviting Su Ming to proceed.

And so, Su Ming began his performance.

As the forensic center for New York City, the place was naturally guarded by police officers. Su Ming\'s plan was simple: first, find the officers, knock them out, and cut off all communication with the outside world.

Then, he would guard the entrance, giving Avenging Angel thirty minutes to conduct a full autopsy. Ideally, they\'d find out the time of death or where "Phantom Bullet" had been before he died.

If there were tiny grains of salt on the body, it might mean he\'d been by the seaside. If there was coal, he might have been near a power plant or heating facility. Any identifiable chemical traces could reveal his movements.

Whenever someone goes somewhere, they leave behind traces—unless someone like Barry Allen or Quicksilver showed up in the Marvel Universe. Even if Quicksilver had appeared decades early, he\'d still leave footprints wherever he went.

The plan went smoothly. The police barely had time to react when the infamous devil appeared before them, and they were knocked out.

Their skills were far inferior to the gendarmes Su Ming had dealt with earlier. He didn\'t even need a weapon—his bare hands were enough to handle everything.

He took over the security room, cut all the phone lines, and, with no closed-circuit surveillance in this era, the building was almost completely under Su Ming\'s control without much noise.

"Well, that was easier than expected. No one even noticed us," Su Ming remarked as he tossed the unconscious officers into a storage room, locking the door behind him. Casually, he crushed the key into a small ball and threw it aside.

Su Ming had been the one dealing with the officers, while the doctor had kept his distance, staying hidden around corners.

Hearing Su Ming speak to him, Dr. Holloway shrugged. He\'d already noticed that Su Ming had gone easy on the police—their injuries weren\'t serious. They likely had about an hour to work.

For Dr. Holloway, performing an autopsy was much easier than surgery on a living person.

The cold, sterile lights of the hallway cast a pale glow over the two masked men as they quietly descended to the basement.

This was the morgue, where bodies from all over the city were sent. The forensic doctors here conducted autopsies, though the process was never quick.

In these times of war, many medical professionals had gone to the frontlines, leaving only a few old men behind. Some of them were so frail they could barely hold a scalpel.

After locking up a few elderly medical examiners, Su Ming found Phantom Bullet\'s body by checking the records.

The body had been delivered earlier that morning and hadn\'t yet been examined. It was now lying in a large metal drawer nearby.

The tag on the drawer only read "John Doe."

That was all the information available.

Upon entering the morgue, Dr. Holloway grew more solemn. He put on a pair of rubber gloves and picked up the forensic tools.

Su Ming used his strength to pull open the massive drawer. The corpse, with several bullet holes in its chest, was already stiff, staring silently up at them.

The chill in the air made Dr. Holloway sigh.

He reached out to remove Phantom Bullet\'s mask.

What could Su Ming say? In this era, many people didn\'t have the concept of wearing bulletproof vests. If you chose to wear a mask, you had to accept that death might come someday.

Phantom Bullet wore only a white T-shirt with a picture of a flying bullet on it, but now the design had been soaked with blood, turning it into a blood-red bullet.

Dr. Holloway removed the mask from the corpse, but as he examined the pale face, he froze. He gently adjusted the body\'s hair, carefully studying the man\'s features.

"I know him."

"An acquaintance?" Su Ming leaned against a cabinet nearby, removing his helmet to light a cigarette.

"No, but I know him. He was a reporter. His name was Hurl Pissas. He worked for The Daily Bugle and was specifically covering my exploits."

Dr. Holloway rested his hand on the body\'s now cold, broad shoulders.

He turned to Su Ming, pain evident on his face. Even though he didn\'t know the deceased well, the death of a fellow hero felt like losing a brother.

He remembered this young man, holding a camera and asking for a photo after Dr. Holloway had defeated a gang of bank robbers.

It was the first time he had gone into action, fighting crime as a masked hero.

"Sir, you just defeated these dangerous criminals. How should we refer to you?"

"I am Avenging Angel," Holloway had said, revealing his codename for the first time.

"Do you have anything you\'d like to say to the citizens?" The young reporter had eagerly followed up when he saw the masked hero preparing to leave.

"Everyone can be a hero, a good person. They just lack the courage," Holloway had smiled as he answered. The reporter had then made sure that the photo and his words were front-page news.

From that day on, whenever Dr. Holloway showed up to fight crime, Hurl was always the first reporter to arrive. He admired him—you could see it in his eyes.

Now, Holloway couldn\'t help but wonder if his own words had inspired the reporter, or worse, had indirectly led him to his death.

All he had wanted was for more people to do good, not for everyone to don masks and play hero.

"Doctor?" Su Ming, cigarette in his mouth, approached, lowering his head to look at the corpse. "I think I can guess what you\'re thinking. You\'re blaming yourself for his death. But when he put on that mask, he had already made his decision. Admiration for someone else doesn\'t make a person put on a mask and fight to the death in the night."

"You\'re saying?" Holloway looked to Su Ming.

"He didn\'t die for anyone else. He died for his own ideals and beliefs. It has nothing to do with anyone else. If you think your words sent him to his death, then you\'re actually insulting this man\'s sense of justice."

After so many years, Su Ming had become quite skilled at delivering motivational "chicken soup" to others. Right now, he needed to quickly get Holloway back on track—he still needed the autopsy results.

Holloway paused, realizing that Su Ming was right. He hadn\'t expected to gain more clarity from a government cleaner than himself.

"You\'re right. He died for our shared cause. And now, I\'ll find out what killed him and avenge his death."

"Then get to work. Let this hero guide us one last time," Su Ming said, his expression serious as he encouraged Holloway. At the same time, he mentally noted another of Avenging Angel\'s weaknesses: besides his fondness for alcohol, he couldn\'t resist a dose of motivational "chicken soup."

Another Barry Allen-type of good guy... how nice.