Miss Assassin is heavily addicted

Chapter 95, Section 11: Pavlo's Tiger Decides to Call for Reinforcements

—Narcissus Street Police Station—

May 13th, mid-month.

Ten o'clock in the morning.

Lambert George W. Bush was sitting by the window reading a newspaper; he was an ordinary police officer there.

This is the street police station (Narcissus Street) under the Public Security Bureau. It is responsible for handling public security incidents with a danger level of no more than 5 – that is, no deaths, no major property damage, and no serious social harm. In other words, it mediates the trivial disputes and petty thefts among neighbors. Any more serious incidents will be reported to higher authorities.

The sun was shining brightly, and it was incredibly pleasant.

Lambert sat behind the window where citizens came to report crimes, next to a dial-up phone and neatly stacked documents.

He sat here reading the newspaper.

The newspapers are reporting the biggest news of the month.

The bald king's birthday party—well, that's not the story. Although it is indeed the biggest news of the month, Lambert, as an ordinary police officer, doesn't care about national affairs. For him, it's just a job. What the public cares about is whether bread and milk will be cheaper tomorrow.

Lambert is watching the news about the beach festival.

During the last three days of this month, Conis Beach will hold its annual festival, commonly known as the Beach Festival.

In response, the city of Grenady spontaneously formed a beach festival oversight committee of over fifty members. Representatives from various sectors were included, and they were responsible for managing the zoning of Gone Beach and the program arrangements.

The entire celebration will last for two days, with daytime events including a bikini beauty pageant, bodybuilding competitions, and sailing races.

In the evening, a beach bonfire will be lit, and a seaside concert will be held, featuring performances by popular and famous bands, as well as an indispensable fireworks display.

The beach festival also features a market of handicrafts and small commodities, selling seashell crafts, nautical-themed souvenirs, the latest beachwear, parasols and straw hats, and offering popular beach snacks such as oysters, ice cream, lemonade, and more, making it an unmissable summer celebration.

This celebration is usually held in mid-June every year.

However, this year it was moved up to the end of May. According to the Royal Meteorological Society, they observed the night sky and found that there would be strong winds and heavy rain in June. The unusual rainy weather would shroud the bright beach festival in gloom, so they suggested moving it forward.

Regardless, it's still something to look forward to.

"Hello, can I report a crime here?!"

A rough male voice came from ahead. Lambert, from the police station, put down his newspaper and looked up.

A homeless man appeared before him.

He was a robust man, about 1.8 meters tall, with a scar on his face, and was in his prime. However, his clothes were tattered, he smelled of sourness, his face was filled with fear of something, and his eyes were slightly sunken—signs of not having slept well.

"..." Lambert clicked his tongue. They didn't handle any matters related to homeless people, so he said unhappily, "No, we only accept reports from ordinary citizens."

"I have an ID card!"

The disheveled homeless man exclaimed excitedly, quickly taking out a card from his pocket and handing it over. The name written on it was none other than Caron Gutierrez—and he also had a more well-known name.

Pablo's tiger.

Lambert frowned slightly, took the document and examined it carefully. After confirming it wasn't forged, he impatiently returned it.

“What do you need, Mr. Caron?” Lambert asked.

Upon hearing this, Baplo's Tiger trembled, his fingers shaking, as he retrieved the forged ID card that the Mole Helper's boss had given him.

He didn't want to recall what happened that night; it was too terrifying. But now he had no choice but to turn to the police, whom he had once despised, because it was no longer a gang fight but the appearance of a monster.

“Yes, yes, there’s a bad guy in the Kobolo neighborhood, damn it, you have to arrest him.” Paplo’s Tiger said incoherently, trembling.

Two nights ago, after Tiger escaped death from the Mole Gang, he thought it was just a terrifying assassin hired by the Shattered Bone Brothers.

In fact, there are indeed locals involved in such shady dealings. But that old man is unbelievably strong! He's not just a killer you can hire; even if you could, wouldn't you have to sell out the entire Shattered Bone Society to get him?
In short, he was so scared that he ran away in a panic, thinking of escaping to the Iron Crocodile Gang to seek refuge and make a comeback, and he carried this news with him.

When he arrived at the Iron Crocodile Gang's territory,

What I saw was an even more desperate scene.

In the pitch-black abandoned shack, a green-haired man wearing a tattered mandarin jacket, glasses and an expressionless face, walked out carrying a severed head.

That was Dave, the so-called Dragon of the Empire, who died a gruesome death, his body torn apart and his eyes wide open in disbelief! He was the strongest man in the Iron Crocodile Gang, a figure on par with the Tiger of Baplo!
Grass! Grass! Grass!
Without a doubt, the annihilation of two local gangs overnight was not the work of some assassin but a premeditated act. Even a fool could see that! A pack of ruthless wolves has invaded the Kobor neighborhood!

Holding his breath, afraid to make a sound, he still managed to glance at the corner where he was hiding! Luckily, the black cat in the shadows was killed by his throwing knife! He had mistaken it for just a cat! The tiger of Bapulo had narrowly escaped death!
Then came a frantic escape for their lives.

Having escaped the Koborough neighborhood where he had lived for so long, although he would go out every month, this was the first time he had come to the "outside" world without any support. Compared to the slums inside, this place felt like a civilized place.

He was treated as a homeless person and forced to wander the streets.

After his mental breakdown, it took him a whole night to calm down. He realized that the only place in the world he could take refuge in was that abandoned land, but he couldn't beat them. After thinking it over, he had no choice but to report the case to the police.

But obviously—

“Although you tell this story very well, it happened in a slum… in the Cobolo neighborhood.”

"The veracity of the story is questionable. It sounds far-fetched that one person could kill your entire gang. Wouldn't our officers be in danger as well? We don't have the resources to send a whole squad to deal with people who neither pay taxes nor obey the law."

Lambert yawned and said he already wanted to get rid of this homeless man named Caron.

People die in the slums every day. Even if someone dies, there are local gangs who will dispose of the body. Besides, people die all the time fighting for territory.

In short, for the security personnel, getting rid of cockroaches too thoroughly can actually create another problem: cockroaches will be everywhere in the house. It's better to let them stay put in one place.

"But so many people died there! So many people! That old man was like a killer!!"

The tiger of Papulo roared uncontrollably and pounded on the window several times! But soon, very soon... he lowered his hand in fear, cold sweat beading on his face.

"I'm sorry, officer, I... I didn't mean that!"

"..."

Lambert had already put down the phone. Looking at the dejected homeless man in front of him, he thought that perhaps he was also a member of a gang and had been killed by a rival gang, so he came to report the crime in a fit of anger.

But as I said before, they don't care about most things in the slums. It's not like they're killing indiscriminately, just wiping out a gang. It's said that there are no local tyrants there now, so it's perfectly normal for them to cause trouble. Maybe they just want to use the government's help.

"get out."

With that thought in mind, Lambert finally issued an ultimatum, picking up the newspaper with disdain: "We don't handle gang-related matters involving dead people here. If you really feel wronged and helpless, go to the Sheriff's Office on Rose Street and report it to them."

Upon hearing this, Baplo's Tiger froze for a few seconds before scurrying away dejectedly. He could tell that this was just a way to get rid of him; no one would be interested in the affairs of the slums, let alone something related to gang warfare.

There's only one way to get officials involved: force them to deal with the incident. However,

How can we make them feel that they have no choice but to deal with it?

The tiger in Baplo squatted by the roadside like a homeless man, only lacking a bowl in front of him, looking worried and wondering what to do.

Just then, officers got out of a passing police car and started posting notices, even one on the wall right next to Baplo.

"Make way, make way!"

The police officer yelled at him, but he could only suppress his anger at being kicked away for the time being. The tiger of Papulo planned to tear the paper off and crumple it into a ball to take revenge after they left. Who told them to kick him?

Soon after the police officers left, Baplo's Tiger stood up, eager to fight. But when he saw the words, although he didn't recognize most of them, a few words suddenly made sense to him.

The notice above is related to espionage.

"To maintain social stability and security, please be aware of suspicious individuals around you."

"Anyone who inquires about the details of military facilities, factories, government agencies, or important engineering projects without justifiable reason; anyone claiming to be a journalist, academic, or salesperson to obtain information not relevant to their profession; anyone observed using ciphers, secret ink, or discarding unusual items in remote locations; any attempt to persuade you to provide internal documents or information with money, gifts, or ideological justification."

"If you discover any suspicious behavior or individuals..."

"Do not take any action on your own or confront it."

"Please report this immediately to the National Security Espionage Countermeasures Section through the following confidential channels."

"Your vigilance may be the key to protecting our country's future and the safety of your family."

"A spy...a spy!"

A thought of surprise popped into Baplo's mind; he was practically jumping for joy at the sight! If they were told that the old man was a spy, and that the green-haired, bespectacled man was a spy, they certainly wouldn't stand idly by!
Even if it's a gang fight that takes place in the slums, the addition of these two words clearly changes its nature!
Thinking this, he acted immediately—Caron tore down the notice from the wall, but no longer wanted to crumple it up; he wanted to use the place names on it to ask for directions! After all, he didn't know where the spy department building was! And he didn't have the money to make a phone call!

As long as we attract the attention of the authorities, we can go back to that familiar abandoned place!

That old geezer, just you wait!

The fierce tiger, gritting its teeth, clutched the notice paper and ran as fast as a wild boar through the streets, rampaging through everything in its path. Occasionally, it would stop to ask for directions, only to be met with glares and soft, insincere instructions.

"Where is this place?!"

"Oh my God, it's there, it's ahead."

……

Two hours later.

In front of the intelligence department building stood homeless people, panting heavily.

The sun was so strong that he was drenched in sweat, but he was in high spirits because he had arrived at his destination.

When the police officer on duty at the gate saw the homeless man appear before him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy and concern—after all, he had once been homeless himself.

Now, with a weekly salary of 200 crowns, I think about the recent conversations in the dormitory about how the situation is getting tighter and more dangerous, with spies everywhere, and how this batch of cannon fodder might be eliminated this month, which is making everyone very anxious.

In reality, they're not much better off than homeless people.

"What is it, friend?" Reilly even asked rather kindly. "This is a National Security Bureau spy unit, the Security Division is two blocks away on Rose Street."

“I…this is the place I’ve been looking for!” Caron instinctively stiffened when he saw the man in the police uniform. Neither of them recognized the other as someone they had met at the Baplo Loan Company.

"You've discovered a spy?"

“Yes…a spy!” Caron said.

On the way here, Caron had already prepared a complete story in his mind. He believed it was flawless and could convince the police officers. Even if it was discovered later that he had made a false report, it wouldn't matter. A false report of espionage wouldn't land him in jail for life. Besides, that guy really didn't seem like a normal person! He deserved to be arrested!

Seeing this, Rayleigh came out of the door and even kindly led him inside.

Aside from the shared plight, some people think this is a merit, as spy leads are so rare. This homeless guy traveled a long way to come here, probably because he saw the notice that offers a reward of up to 50,000 crowns, so it must be at least somewhat reliable, since it wasn't a phone call or a letter.

Upon entering the building...

Rayleigh saluted and reported to the officer at the reception window, who frowned slightly as he looked at the homeless man brought in by the auxiliary officer—he smelled terrible, which Rayleigh was used to and didn't care much about, but to the people here, it was like a cockroach appearing in front of them.

"Sir, he has intelligence to report!"

"What? Make a long story short."

"Uh, it's like this..." The once mighty and domineering tiger now stammered and timidly recounted the whole story.

And soon, two or three minutes later...

The officer frowned, remaining skeptical. This was happening in the Cobello neighborhood, where an old man had killed everyone in his gang—a gang that was terrifyingly powerful—while the so-called Iron Crocodile Gang was also wiped out by another man.

It sounds incredibly far-fetched, but in reality, it's just the homeless man's side of the story. Who knows if the truth is actually true?
However, the intelligence department did have to take these things seriously. After asking about and recording the physical characteristics, they found that the hunchbacked old man with the shovel and the green-haired, ragged man with glasses were quite normal to be seen in the slums, and could even be considered locals. Finding them would be a bit difficult.

Let's leave it hanging for now. I doubt any group would be interested in clues from the slums right now; everything there is suspicious, people are dying every day, and there are unidentified black people everywhere.

"When will you... when will you handle this?!" Papulo's Tiger asked.

"It depends." The officer waved his hand. "You can go out if nothing happens. You'll be rewarded if you catch a spy later. There's no reward for providing clues."

"..." Baplo's Tiger trembled again, looking utterly dejected. Rayleigh patted the guy on the shoulder and saw him out, feeling that he was somewhat like the legendary Tiger Brother, but he was probably just imagining things.

"Let's go, friend."

After the two left, the police officer pinched his nose because the sour smell lingered and wouldn't dissipate, making him feel nauseous.

Just then, someone happened to pass by. It was around 1 p.m., and some police officers would be returning to the area.

"...What's that awful smell?" Officer Rory muttered, pinching his nose. "Didn't they clean today?"

Upon seeing this, the police officer quickly explained, recounting the events that had just transpired—a homeless man had recounted a spy story about the Cobo neighborhood, where two suspicious individuals had murdered twenty or thirty gang members.

“That sounds like a wild idea,” Rory said bluntly. “If it’s true, then it’s worth investigating.”

"Uh, it's hard to say." The officer shrugged.

After all, it's a matter concerning the slums.

Rory paused for a moment, then stepped forward and took the document he had just written down. They had just closed a case and needed to find some new clues, so he decided to include this one. He meant no harm; people in the slums are people too, nothing more. He figured Officer Loris wouldn't object.

(End of this chapter)