Chapter 13: Bloodshed Returns

“The deceased male was approximately fifty to fifty-five years old. An immense tearing force split his body in two midway down the thoracic spine, killing him instantly...” Despite the cold weather, Deacon was wiping sweat from his forehead as he listened to his subordinate's report.

The crime scene was a bedroom—a very spacious bedroom, as large as some commoner families' entire homes. With all the bodies in pieces, the exact death toll could not yet be established, but there were at least five victims. The room looked like a slaughterhouse. Even though most of the severed limbs had been cleared away, the remaining blood, bodily fluids, and unidentified slippery substances still gave off a sickening stench.

Paper Hero came through the doorway. “Well, well, that familiar smell...” He had taken only one step inside when he frowned and pulled his trench coat's collar a little higher.

Deacon turned around. “What are you doing out of the hospital?”

“I went to the HL branch to take care of something and got the news while I was there,” Paper Hero said. “Since I'm here, fill me in.”

“I left the hospital, found a restaurant, and had just sat down and ordered a couple of dishes when the commissioner called,” Deacon said. “He told me something terrible had happened, in a tone that made it sound as though the Black Death had broken out in the city.”

“Ah, nobility...” Paper Hero said. “This is Baron Giuseppe's residence, if I remember correctly.”

Deacon continued, “They probably died in the early hours of this morning. As usual, a servant didn't come to knock until noon. There was no answer, and then he noticed a strange smell.”

“Judging by these traces, the baron wasn't the only one who died.” Paper Hero crouched to examine the bloodstains.

“Oh, the baron's definitely dead,” Deacon said. “His body's relatively intact from the chest up, so we could identify him by his face. As for the others... probably four women, or five.”

“Heh. When poor, cultivate your own virtue; when rich, keep a houseful of wives and concubines.” Paper Hero gave a cold laugh. “This enormous bedroom, soundproofed on all six sides, and servants who ‘as usual’ don't knock until noon. Sounds like he partied every night. A fitting place for him to die.”

“Let's leave his personal life out of this. Plenty of nobles live like that. We just need to do our jobs.” Deacon could manage a few earnest words himself now and then. Clearly, he did not want Paper Hero making ill-advised remarks in public.

Paper Hero was unconcerned. “Of course, of course, as we should. But I don't think there's much work left to do here. The scene alone makes it quite obvious who the killer is.”

Deacon was no fool either. “The one from the Copper Parrot?”

“His name is Blood Owl,” Paper Hero said.

Deacon quickly asked, “Do you have any leads on his whereabouts?”

Paper Hero gave a wry laugh. “No. Even if I did, I couldn't catch him.” He turned to leave as he spoke. “I have to admit, Jim's advice back then was right. For a criminal with a danger rating of four, we'll have to ask HL to send reinforcements.”

...

That evening, in Jim Malone's office.

By the time Paper Hero arrived, Malone and Faru had both been waiting for quite a while.

“Sorry I'm late.” Paper Hero directed this at Faru. He and Malone were close enough to dispense with such courtesies.

“It's all right,” Faru said. “We haven't been waiting long.”

Paper Hero sat down as well. “I've been to the scene. Blood Owl killed Giuseppe, no question.”

Malone lit another cigar. “What do you think he's really after?”

“By a normal person's reasoning, you could say he was carrying out Heaven's justice this time,” Paper Hero said. “Or, less grandly, ridding the people of a scourge.”

Faru cleared his throat. “Mr. Nice, please watch your choice of words.”

Paper Hero shrugged and changed tack. “But in my view, there's no point trying to guess his motives. I haven't had much contact with him, but I'm fairly certain he's no normal person. He's completely insane. He does as he pleases, willing to kill anyone, anywhere, at any time, for any reason, or for no reason at all.” He addressed Faru. “You heard his conversation with Bottrini that night too. He doesn't just kill ordinary thugs in bars. He goes out and kills Steel Commandment priests. The Holy City Inspector came openly seeking revenge with a standard-bearer and a whole group of battle-hardened knights. He must have killed quite a few. Thirty, fifty? Who knows? Do you think there's any other lone ability user in this world who'd pick a fight with Steel Commandment out of the blue? Put yourself in his shoes. If you or I had no legal identity and no affiliation, just like him, would we dare do something like that?”

Faru considered this before replying. “This case tells us Blood Owl is still in Venice. He certainly is different from the usual fugitive. After what happened that night, most people would have gone into hiding for a while, waited for things to die down, and then looked for a chance to leave the city. Yet here he is, committing another bloody murder more than a month later.

“I think that's something we can use. If he's grown this brazen, or if that's simply his nature, then we'll assemble a force far beyond anything he could imagine and spare no effort to hunt him down and kill him. Let this arrogant maniac see just how terrifying HL's top fighters can be.”

“Do you have a plan, or anyone in mind?” Malone asked.

“I intend to contact Instructor Luca at headquarters,” Faru said. “He's my mentor. If he agrees to come to Venice and help us, even Blood Owl will meet a terrible end.”

Just then, the telephone on Malone's desk rang again. He had barely picked it up, without a chance to say a word, when a trembling voice shouted from the other end, “C-Colonel Malone... the... the governor...”

The expressions of all three men around the desk changed at once. Had something happened to the governor?

“The governor's son... has just been confirmed murdered!” The caller finally finished.

That was bad news too, but at least the governor was safe. The scare had brought them out in a cold sweat.

Paper Hero stood. “All right, I'll go take a look. Though I suspect there's only one person who'd do something like this.”

Faru could no longer stay seated either. “I'll contact Instructor Luca right away. Hopefully we can stop this lunatic before he slaughters every dignitary in Venice.”

Malone, the oldest of the three, did have something of a general's bearing. He set down his cigar and spoke solemnly. “Leave the troop deployments for support and all the arrangements afterward to me. Until we've assembled enough strength to defeat Blood Owl, this city's safety rests with you two. He's only human, after all. Put plainly, he's a powerful and brutal murderer. But a man is still a man. No individual in this world is unbeatable. We mustn't lose our heads. We must follow procedure.”

Both men acknowledged this and left the office, each going his own way to attend to his tasks.

Walking alone down the corridor, Faru recalled his arrival here a month ago. He had barely stepped off the plane, still jet-lagged, before he was thrown into a fierce battle. In a single night, he had encountered at least two people stronger than himself and been wounded. After that came the reports on the incident, endless questions to answer, endless lies to tell the public. And now, today, a fresh series of bloody murders...

Over the past month, Faru had also discreetly investigated a number of things that interested him, such as Paper Hero and Malone's relationship and history. Twelve years ago, the two had served in the same military unit. Eight years ago, four years of chaotic warfare on the South African continent had ended in victory, and both men had returned alive and triumphant. Malone, already an officer, had been promoted several ranks and transferred to this HL branch as its commanding officer. Paper Hero, of all things, had gone and found himself a job as a policeman.

It now seemed that this city on the water truly harbored some formidable talents. The troop deployments that night, the airtight suppression of information afterward, the diplomatic wording, and everything else all demonstrated Jim Malone's competence. To the Empire, a man with that kind of talent was far more useful than an ability user who knew only how to fight.

Paper Hero had dealt an even greater blow to Faru's pride. This ability user had undergone none of HL's enhancement training, and yet, though they were both Strong rank, he far surpassed Faru. It could only be a difference in natural talent. Had Paper Hero joined HL as well, he might very well have held a military rank one grade above Faru's by now.

These thoughts troubled him, but Faru had neither the time nor the energy to look further into the two men's backgrounds. The most urgent task was still to hunt down Blood Owl. As long as that walking scourge was roaming free, he would have to sleep with one eye open.

He soon returned to his room, switched on the video communications screen, and placed a call to someone named Luca...

...

Fifteen minutes later, Paper Hero had just reached the entrance to the governor's son's residence when he ran into Deacon. The fat man looked close to losing his mind, frazzled and utterly at a loss.

“Elot! Do you know what the hell is going on? If you do, hurry up and think of something! Do you want everyone in the department to lose their jobs?!”

Paper Hero couldn't help finding this funny. “Calm down. Don't worry. You can treat these cases as a kind of natural disaster beyond human control. HL will soon send someone godlike to sort everything out.”

“How can you still stand there looking so relaxed? Nobody's reported a robbery, burglary, or sex crime in ages. Apart from putting up missing-person notices for a few drunks who never made it home, the police have had nothing to do. Even nighttime gang fights have practically stopped. I thought the crime rate had dropped dramatically and society was looking wonderfully harmonious. Then the moment you get out of the hospital, two noble households are murdered in a single day. Have you been put under some voodoo curse or something?! Can't you go back to the hospital and stay in bed a few more days?!”

Paper Hero couldn't be bothered with him and headed into the house. “You've finished your inspection. I'll go in and look at the scene. See you at the station later.”

Deacon gave him the middle finger, bellowed a few times, and left with the officers accompanying him. Paper Hero made his way inside. The other officers at the scene all knew him, so no one stopped him.

This time, the body had not yet been removed. The governor's son, a boy of sixteen or seventeen, lay with his entire body twisted like a towel wrung dry. Displaced bones jutted through the corkscrewed corpse, his face contorted in extreme agony. A large pool of blood had spread across the floor.

The governor of Venice had fathered his son late in life and was now sixty-three. By Paper Hero's reckoning, the old man's emotions over the coming days would probably progress in three stages: grief → anger → madness.

Of course, there was nothing he could do about that. Paper Hero's outlook had changed long ago. He no longer thought only of “upholding justice.” He had long since cast aside his identity and duties as a policeman too.

Beneath Paper Hero's increasingly flippant manner and his outward air of listless indifference, another emotion was quietly taking root in his heart. In the not-too-distant future, it would change the course of the rest of his life.