I created the Old Gods and Outer Gods in America.

Columbia District Police Department.

The air in the meeting room was foul and the ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts.

Roberts stood in front of the whiteboard, his hands resting on the table, his eyes fixed on the photos and clues that covered it.

The deputy stood to the side, holding a stack of newly printed reports, his fingers trembling slightly.

"Chief, we have re-examined the backgrounds of all the victims in these thirty-seven murder cases." The deputy swallowed hard, his voice hoarse.

Roberts didn't turn around: "Speak."

"Some of the victims were gangsters with too many enemies and confusing identities, making it difficult to find common ground. But among the other victims, those from ordinary families, we found a striking commonality."

The deputy turned to the first page and pointed to the photos of Eileen and Taylor at the scene.

"These families all had members who were soldiers, and without exception, after their discharge, these soldiers went bankrupt, became addicted to drugs, and eventually became homeless for various reasons."

Roberts paused for a moment, turned around, and frowned.

The deputy continued reviewing the report: "We interviewed the neighbors of these families and found that these families did not treat the veterans well. Some cheated on their spouses, some absconded with their property, and some even kicked seriously ill veterans out of their homes."

The meeting room was so quiet that the only sound was the air conditioning running.

Roberts walked to the whiteboard, picked up a black marker, and drew a thick solid line between "victim" and "veteran".

"If we take this as the motive, it does fit the logic of revenge. But the problem is that those veterans are already useless. They can't even get enough to eat. Even if they gathered together, they wouldn't have the ability to commit such a tragedy."

The deputy then produced another document.

"We investigated the number of homeless people who have recently disappeared as much as possible, and finally determined it to be in the range of 80 to 130. Among them, there are indeed quite a few veterans, and..."

Roberts interrupted his deputy halfway through his sentence, adding, "And the number of those merfolk is estimated to be between 70 and 180!"

The timing matches perfectly, and the numbers are basically correct!

Roberts felt a chill run down his spine and slammed the file heavily on the table.

An absurd yet logical conclusion came to his mind.

"So...those fishmen...might be those missing homeless people!?" Roberts' voice was a little off-key.

boom!

The other senior superintendents in the conference room all stood up, their chairs falling to the floor with a screeching sound.

Shock and disbelief were written all over everyone's faces.

Those homeless people who were usually regarded as urban trash and not even worth a second glance have now become monsters capable of tearing apart armored vehicles with their bare hands?

Although it seems unbelievable, the more I think about it, the more possible it seems!

After all, all the clues point to this fact!

One of the superintendents suddenly realized something and said anxiously, "Wait a minute, if that's the case, doesn't that mean there are still many lurking fish-men in this area?"

Roberts took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the shock in his heart. He knew this was not the time to be afraid. He immediately called his superiors to report this deduction and gave the order:

"Better to kill the innocent than let the guilty go free! The higher-ups have given us so many police resources to solve these problems. Now, arrest every single homeless person in Columbia District, leave no one alive!"

......

Under the pedestrian bridge in the South Side of Columbia District.

The sound of sirens pierced the silence of the night as more than a dozen police cars roared in, their blinding searchlights illuminating the underpass as bright as day.

Fully armed riot police rushed out of the vehicles, wearing gas masks and clutching batons and riot shields tightly.

"Arise! All of you, arise!"

The police officers roughly kicked over cardboard boxes and tents.

The homeless man, still half asleep, was blinded by the bright light and stared blankly at the menacing police officers.

"Hands behind your heads! Everyone squat on the ground!"

A gaunt Black homeless man was blinded by the bright flashlight and instinctively raised his hand to block the light.

"Don't move!"

The police officer standing nearby was on high alert and struck the black homeless man on the shoulder with his baton.

The Black homeless man, in pain, struggled violently to his feet, yelling, "Fuck! What are you doing! What law have I broken?!"

He struggled violently, knocking the officer back two steps.

"Don't touch me!" the black homeless man yelled.

This instantly triggered the already tense nerves of the police officers, reminding them that before setting off, they had heard about homeless people turning into fish-men and the like.

He stumbled back two steps in terror, his voice cracking with fear: "Chief...Chief! This homeless man is turning into a fish-man!"

Not far away, Roberts was standing next to the police car directing traffic. Hearing the shout, he felt his scalp tingle. There really were lurking criminals!

"What?! What are you all standing there for?! Attack! Start hitting them now!"

Upon receiving orders, the officer immediately discarded his baton, drew a stun gun from his waist, and stabbed the Black homeless man directly in the stomach.

Zizizi!

Blue arcs of electricity flickered.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!"

The Black homeless man was electrocuted and his body convulsed, swearing and contorting in agony.

When Roberts saw the homeless man still cursing, he rushed forward and pulled away the police officer who was holding a stun gun.

"What are you doing?" Roberts roared.

The officer was stunned: "Chief, didn't you tell me to hit...?"

"Your stun gun can't even kill a human, how are you going to deal with a fish-man?" Roberts shoved him aside, pointed at the homeless man still convulsing on the ground, and as he pulled out his gun, yelled at the surrounding police officers, "Shoot! Shoot him before he transforms!"

The surrounding officers were already on edge, but upon hearing the chief's order, they did not hesitate at all.

Swish!

More than a dozen Glock pistols were drawn at the same time.

Bang bang bang bang!

Guns spat fire, and the dense gunfire echoed deafeningly under the bridge.

Bullets rained down on the Black homeless man, splattering blood everywhere.

In just a few seconds, all the magazines in the dozen or so pistols were emptied.

The Black homeless man lay in a pool of blood, his body riddled with bullets, completely motionless.

A small amount of human tissue was detected among a pile of bullets.

The gunfire stopped.

The pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air.

Dozens of homeless people, pinned to the ground, clutched their heads, staring blankly at the corpse on the ground, their minds seemingly frozen.

Some people initially wanted to resist, but after witnessing this scene, they became completely obedient, and now they only had one thought in their minds.

These police officers used even more drugs than they did!

They've completely gone mad!