Hitman with a Badass System - #1170 - 1170 Identity of the killer

After exiting Vilnius’s room, Michael propelled himself skyward, swiftly cutting through the air as he headed straight for Durran. Eventually, he descended gracefully onto the roof of the three-story building that housed the barracks of Officer Barug, the captain of the city guard. 

“Let’s use our little friends,” Michael said, taking out the drones, 

Deploying drones, he sent them flying around the building to survey the area and provide him with additional eyes.

Meanwhile, the dark clouds above loomed ominously, yet no rain fell. It was a stark reminder of the consequences of Rainar’s death. 

“There it is, our way inside,” Michael peered through the drone feed and spotted an open window on one of the building’s upper floors. 

Without hesitation, he jumped off the ledge and, focusing on a shadow through the open window, used his shadow teleportation ability to transport himself inside.

He found himself in a room lined with book racks filled with parchments. A quick glance around confirmed it was some sort of archive or storeroom. Michael immediately contacted Pink through his earpiece. 

“I’m inside the building. Where are you?” he asked.

“Come to the underground dungeon,” Pink’s voice responded, her tone urgent. 

“But watch out for the guards.”

“Can’t she just tell Barug to let us in?” Perched atop Michael’s shoulder, Ayag interjected.

“Barug is only helping us off the books. He’s been ordered not to let anyone near the body, so he’s already taking a big risk by letting me and you see it.” Pink’s response came swiftly, laced with a hint of tension.

Hearing Pink’s words, Michael could tell that the situation was delicate, and he knew they needed to tread carefully.

Stealthily, Michael began his descent from the third story to the underground dungeon. He blended seamlessly with the shadows, moving with the silence and precision of a predator. His shadow teleportation ability allowed him to bypass obstacles and guards undetected, while his X-ray vision revealed the movements and positions of soldiers even through the walls.

The soldiers patrolled the corridors, unaware of the unseen observer among them. Their conversations, a mix of rumors and suspicions, filled the dimly lit hallways.

“Have you heard the whispers about Gilrut’s murder?” one soldier asked another in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, why all the secrecy? It’s not like we haven’t seen dead bodies before,” replied the other, his brow furrowed in confusion.

In another corner, a group of soldiers discussed recent heists. 

“Those small heists must be Vilnius’s gang, but that grand heist in Eden’s Garden… it was too well-planned. Vilnius isn’t capable of something that sophisticated.”

“I’ve heard rumors that someone else might be calling the shots in the gang now. The Eden’s Garden heist was too meticulous for Vilnius’s usual style.” One of them chimed in.

The soldiers’ conversations shifted to Officer Barug and his special team. 

“They’re definitely hiding something. I heard Barug saw something strange during the heist. Something that shook him up.”

Another added, “And now they’re keeping Gilrut’s body under wraps. It’s like they’re afraid of something, or someone.”

As Michael reached the first floor, the tension in the air was palpable. The soldiers’ discussions painted a picture of unease and suspicion within the ranks. Their speculations about the heists, the strange secrecy surrounding Gilrut’s death, and Officer Barug’s unusual behavior hinted at deeper mysteries yet to be unraveled.

As Michael stealthily made his way through the building, he couldn’t suppress a smirk, thinking back to his last encounter with Officer Barug. He vividly remembered how he had thoroughly outmatched Barug and his team during their last confrontation.

Ayag, whispering from his shoulder, noted, “Seems like Barug and his team have been keeping what happened inside Eden’s Garden from the rest of the guards.”

“Yeah,” Michael replied quietly, “To them, I’m just the human who volunteered to go into Ridon Funds during the hostage situation orchestrated by Elmer. They have no idea about the real story.”

Ayag chuckled mischievously. “Imagine Barug’s face if he ever finds out it was us who pulled off the Eden’s Garden heist and that we’ve been calling the shots in the Vilnius gang.”

Michael’s smile widened in amusement at the thought. Moving closer to the staircase leading to the dungeon, he found two orc guards flanking the entrance, their attention focused on their duty. Blending into a nearby shadow, he became virtually invisible, observing the guards carefully.

“We need a distraction,” Michael murmured, already formulating a plan in his mind to bypass the guards without raising any alarms. His mind raced with possibilities, each scenario running through his head as he prepared to make his move.

After a while of quick planning, Michael noticed an ale barrel in the corner. Then, Michael carefully placed a small drone on the ground. The floor was a bustling scene of activity, with soldiers in armor walking between tables and cubicles, their attention focused on the parchments and documents scattered everywhere.

The drone, a subtle blend of stealth and technology, began to inch its way under the tables, moving unnoticed among the legs of chairs and desks. Michael controlled it with his mind, guiding it skillfully through the maze of office furniture.

His target was the large ale barrel stored in a corner of the room. Using the drone’s mechanical blades, he expertly cut a hole in the barrel. The sound of ale spilling onto the floor was not loud, but it was enough to catch the attention of the two orc guards by the staircase.

Alerted by the unusual noise, the guards left their post, joining others to investigate the source of the disturbance. This was the moment Michael had been waiting for.

Seizing the opportunity, he used shadow teleportation to move swiftly and silently into the staircase. He descended rapidly, navigating the stairs with practiced ease, his presence undetected.

Michael arrived in the dungeon to find Pink and Officer Barug.

The dungeon was a stark contrast to the activity-filled floors above. It was dimly lit, with the light casting long, eerie shadows across the cold stone walls. The air was musty, heavy with the scent of damp earth and old stone. In the center of the room, a table draped in white cloth stood solemnly, drawing immediate attention.

Pink was standing by the table, her expression somber as she observed the covered shape on it. Officer Barug, meanwhile, was engrossed in examining some items sealed within a transparent bag, his brows furrowed in concentration.

As Michael approached them, Barug looked up, his eyes widening in recognition. 

“Wait a minute… I know you,” he exclaimed, a look of realization dawning on his face. 

“You’re John!” he said, recalling their previous encounter.

Then, his expression shifted to one of suspicion. “You’re not just some regular runemaster, are you?” Barug asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

Michael offered a small, knowing smile. “Let’s just say I’m a friend, Officer Barug. I would have approached you directly if not for the secrecy surrounding Gilrut’s death,” he replied smoothly, his words carefully chosen to blend truth with deception.

Barug scrutinized Michael from head to toe, searching for any signs of deceit. But Michael was skilled at masking his true intentions, and his words carried enough veracity to convince Barug.

Interrupting the moment of tension, Pink spoke up urgently. 

“Let’s focus on the matter at hand,” she said, her voice firm.

Barug let out a heavy sigh, his gaze shifting back to the items in the bag. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t involve outsiders who I don’t fully trust, especially in a case as sensitive as this,” he admitted. “But this murder is anything but normal. I need fresh eyes on this.”

With that acknowledgment, the trio turned their attention to the task at hand, ready to delve into the mystery of Gilrut’s unsettling demise.

Vedora, sensing the gravity of the situation, decided to play the part of a silent pet. With an almost intuitive understanding, the hydra crawled into Michael’s pocket, remaining quiet and unobtrusive.

As they approached the table, Michael turned to Pink with a hint of concern. “You don’t have to look,” he offered gently, aware of the disturbing sight that awaited them.

Pink, however, was resolute. Shaking her head firmly, she insisted, 

“I need to see this. Your observations are important, but I need to understand what we’re dealing with.”

Standing nearby, Barug sighed heavily, the weight of the situation evident in his demeanor. 

“This had better be worth the risk,” he muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of worry and anticipation.

Hearing Barug, Pink’s response was immediate and firm, a strong note of conviction in her voice as she defended Michael. 

“He’s the best. You’ll see,” said Pink.

With everyone’s attention now focused on the table, Michael reached out and carefully removed the cloth covering it. What lay beneath was a macabre sight: the remains of Gilrut’s body, or rather, the parts of it. The gruesome scene was a stark testament to the brutality of the murder, a chilling display of calculated cruelty.

As Michael was studying the body, Barug, with a grim expression, began detailing the injuries to Michael. He pointed to various parts of Gilrut’s remains as he spoke, his voice steady despite the gruesome subject matter.

“The killer didn’t just want him dead; he wanted to inflict pain,” Barug explained, indicating the areas where the injuries were most severe. “See here and here,” he said, pointing to specific wounds. “These cuts… they’re methodical, precise. It’s like the killer had all the time in the world.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the horrific sight before continuing. “There’s a strong smell of healing potion mixed with the blood,” he added, his voice tinged with disgust. 

“It seems the killer used it to prolong Gilrut’s suffering, healing him just enough to keep him alive through the torture.” said Barug.

Barug then gestured towards the disembodied limbs. “His limbs were systematically severed,” he said, his tone clinical but strained. 

“And look at the abdomen – he was gutted, almost as if the killer was searching for something, or perhaps it was just to add to the cruelty of the act.”

Michael leaned closer, examining the serrated skin marks with a practiced eye. Recognizing the distinctive pattern left by the blade, a realization dawned on him. 

“I know this work… this blade. It’s her,” He murmured, speaking softly to himself.