New York, Brooklyn, a high-end apartment.

The evening breeze filters through the screens, bringing coolness into the house, and the beige curtains sway slightly, reminiscent of the skirts of a ballet dancer.

Under the lamp, a figure is writing at the desk.

"Mutants, they have an innate talent. Once upon a time, they were groping in the dark, seeking guidance. ”

"Talent, at times like these, can be distorted into a curse."

"Give them wings, and they'll want to fly closer to the sun, and then fall and die like Icarus."

"Give them the power to prophesy, and they will fear the future."

"Give them unimaginable power, and breed ambition that will make them think that they were born to rule the world,"

The stubby fingers pinching the pen stopped, and the ink continued to spread and infiltrate along the lines of the paper, increasing the comma at the end of the character by a few points.

Amanda Waller sighed, closed the pen, and threw it next to the paper with a click.

The middle-aged woman was broad and fat, with a bloated waist shaped like a bucket, and a crystal clear diamond necklace placed under her double chin, contrasting with her dark complexion.

Because the last time in Gotham, the suicide squad, which took up a lot of the CIA's resources, was inexplicably wiped out, and Amanda Waller, as the head of the task force, escaped a tragic death, but still had to bear the responsibility of "incompetence".

Coupled with the revelations of the X-weapon program, various intelligence services have been forced to shut down a number of programs that may be suspected of persecuting the extraordinary.

Against this backdrop, Amanda Waller's long-advocated plan to rebuild the suicide squad has been stuck in an internal audit.

Even those high-level leaders thought she was an eyesore, so they casually found an excuse and sent her to New York as a consultant to assist the New York City Police Department in dealing with some superpowered criminal activities.

Although Amanda Waller can be on an equal footing with the chief superintendent of the NYPD (New York City Police Department), there is no small gap between being a CIA program director who can lead a team on his own to being a superpowered criminal consultant for the NYPD.

"Those damned, corpse-like scum."

Amanda Waller burst into a foul mouth in anger, sighed again, crumpled the paper, and threw it into the trash bin beside her.

Anyway, no matter how Amanda says that the mutant race that has reached the world stage is a great threat to the United States, the CIA's top brass will ignore it.

For them, sailing against the tide of national anger is not the right posture to preserve their official positions.

Amanda Waller sighed, the hustle and bustle of Manhattan was not for her, and she longed for the time she had long ago as a field agent, in and out of the South American jungle to fight drug lords - of course, at that time, her figure was not out of shape, not as bloated and fat as she is now.

The large-screen LCD TV in the living room was broadcasting the evening news, and the reporter's shrill voice was a little noisy, and Amanda, who was only wearing a silk nightgown, stood up dissatisfiedly and walked to the living room, intending to turn off the TV.

“... After the bloodied bodies were found in an underground parking lot in the Bronx last week, police have again found new dead people in an abandoned factory. ”

The reporter in the camera was wearing a windbreaker, and I don't know if it was because of fear or excitement, and the whole person stood outside the abandoned factory with some trembling.

The factory casts great shadows in the night, and the hollow windows are long gone, barely covered by dusty plastic curtains.

A team of NYPD officers had already set up a yellow line of separation, blankly standing in front of the excited reporters to block their scrambling lights.

A fat police officer had just stepped out of the yellow line, and the long guns and short guns of the reporters were immediately aimed at him,

"Officer, can you tell us about what's going on inside?"

"Officer, this is the fourth such case in New York. The public is very upset about this, and I would like you to tell us about the progress of the investigation of the serial murder case. ”

"Officer ....."

The flashing lights flickered, casting the middle-aged officer's haggard face to the crowd in front of the television.

Metropolis, serial murders, weird ways to die,

Together, these three names could form a Gothic stage play, or a slightly more expansive ontological reasoning.

Fueled by the media, the serial killings caused a boom in addition to the so-called panic among residents.

Online, in reality, every New Yorker is discussing homicide cases through social channels.

The past of the three deceased people has been completely revealed, and these ordinary people who have not been cared about before their lives have become a dried corpse with blood drained, and they have the value of being focused.

People paint scenes of murder, speculate about the murderer's past and present life, and complain that they have not dared to go out lately.

No matter how strange the hunt is, no matter how weird the murder case, it's just a matter of talk.

The officer pursed his lips and stared at the cameras aimed at his face, a wave of disgust rising in his heart for no apparent reason.

No one really cares about the deceased, except for those grieving family members.

All the do-gooders hovered around the corpse like vultures in search of the smell of carrion, waiting to be swarmed up and feasted.

"I'm sorry, but the criminal investigation process is internal intelligence and cannot be disclosed for the time being."

The police officer turned the reporters down with a blank face and, under the cover of the officers, got into the yellow line of separation.

Amanda Waller withdrew her gaze thoughtfully, and sat down slowly on the couch, allowing her massive body to sink into the seat.

The gender, age, occupation, appearance, and past experience of each of the deceased are completely identical, in other words, these four people have nothing to do with each other.

On both sides of each deceased's neck, there are hole-like wounds like fangs piercing - according to forensic examination, the murderer seems to have used some kind of prop similar to a hose to completely extract the blood of the deceased.

If this kind of vampire-like parody crime was all it was, it wouldn't have caught Amanda Waller's heart.

Because in a huge New York City, there are always a few people who are unsound or psychopathic, and commit some murders that violate common sense.

Usually such cases are suppressed, and some cases that occasionally leak out will serve as public talking points and let people relax themselves.

Suddenly, the phone vibrated and a call came.

"Amanda, emergency, get to HQ soon."

The middle-aged male voice on the other end of the phone was calm and steady, and the owner of the voice was a certain high-powered leader.

Along with the phone call came an unread letter from the e-mail.

Stubby black fingers dotted on the screen of the hand.

It was a classified video from the NYPD that had not yet been disclosed to the media.

The picture of the mobile phone is blurry for a while, but it is clear and clear, and it can be seen that the video shooting position is fixed, and from the perspective of clarity, it is a special photographic instrument.

In the middle of the screen is an operating room full of medical equipment.

Amanda sat up subconsciously, she knew where it was.

New York Police Department Forensic Laboratory.

This is a recorded video of a forensic autopsy of the body of the deceased, according to the time marker in the lower right corner......

Just an hour ago.

Amanda's face sank as she stared at her phone's screen.

Several forensic doctors in green surgical gowns gathered around the operating bed, on which lay a corpse that looked like sugar cane drained of juice.

It was the first person to be found, a homeless man who had not even been named, who had lived in a pile of cardboard boxes under the bridge for many years.

In the picture, the doctor picks up a scalpel and makes an incision in the center of the two collarbones.

A black, viscous liquid immediately poured out of the wound, and the dried corpse opened its eyes.

His eyes were so pale and swollen that they were reminiscent of fish in a pond that had been killed by the sun.

The doctors stepped back in fear, but the corpses moved faster than they had expected.

The skinny arm had a sheer force that was completely different from its appearance, easily tearing apart a poor forensic doctor, and the dried corpse bathed in blood was restored to a human appearance at a rate visible to the naked eye.

Subsequently, the police guarding the door broke into the house and tried to knock it down with a firearm.

Although the police pistol was not as terrifying as it was, the penetrating small-caliber bullet still wounded the deceased - after the seventh bullet blew off the skull, the corpse convulsed twice and fell to the ground, drenched in a pool of blood from the doctors.

The video didn't end here, when the deceased's stomach suddenly swelled up and swelled like an inflated balloon.

Then, smack!

Flesh and blood flew sideways, and crystal clear rice grains were scattered in all directions.

More precisely, it is not a grain of rice, but tiny eggs.