The Press Conference
A press conference regarding the dry corpse case was underway outside the Coast City Police Department.
In an effort to salvage the police department's image, Deputy Chief James Kregg had prepared thoroughly. Even so, beads of sweat still formed on his forehead as he faced the reporters' barrage of tricky questions.
Facts were facts. No matter how much he deflected or explained, he couldn't change the reality of over a hundred desiccated corpses.
To prevent the situation from worsening, the police and the FBI had enforced strict confidentiality. However, they underestimated the universal gravity of a beautiful woman. A particularly alluring female reporter easily used alcohol and sex to extract internal information about the dry corpse case from a police officer.
Then, all of Coast City knew that in this city famous for entertainment, nothing was beyond a reporter's reach.
The situation rapidly worsened!
Faced with various "inaccurate" reports, Chief Hugo had to crawl out of his mistress's bed. After a phone call with Walker, he ordered his deputy to hold a press conference to explain the case.
The conference was noisy. To dig up explosive material, the reporters on the scene bombarded James with one trap-laden question after another. The slightest slip-up would allow them to seize on his words and pin the label of "incompetence" on the police, the FBI, and the government.
James's head was pounding. He fantasized about tossing the microphone and leaving without a word, like the President. But dreams were just dreams. Tasked with this heavy responsibility by Hugo and Walker, he didn't have the authority to walk out. He could only repeat explanations to his "media friends": the sacrifices made by the police in the dry corpse case, the bravery demonstrated by the FBI, and their commitment to go all out to catch the killer as soon as possible and restore a peaceful, quiet Coast City to everyone.
As for when the case would be solved? Not a single word.
Such perfunctory answers were not acceptable. In fact, the reporters present weren't all "paparazzi"; a significant number genuinely cared about the case's progress.
They were locals who had lived here for decades and had a deep affection for Coast City.
The dry corpse case had severely impacted the daily lives of citizens. The killer had murdered over a hundred people, and no one even knew what he looked like. All sorts of supernatural rumors were circulating online—some said he was a vampire, others a werewolf, or a vengeful spirit, a phantom. People were living in terror, afraid to leave their homes.
James was sweating profusely, desperately trying to explain, but the reporters weren't listening, pressuring him to make a public guarantee (to "lay down a flag").
James didn't dare. If he made a guarantee and failed, Hugo would surely throw him out as a scapegoat.
He had no doubt that the greedy, shameless, lecherous, and depraved bastard would do exactly that.
The Killer Reveals Himself
The crowd's emotions grew heated. Suddenly, someone pointed to the sky.
"Look, what is that?"
"Is that a bird? Is that... a person?"
Everyone instinctively looked up. In the hazy sky, there was indeed a "person." As the view zoomed in, they saw that this person had a unique appearance: short, no taller than 1.6 meters, extremely ugly, with a head that was swollen and thick, like "Big Head Son" from a cartoon.
A low laugh rippled through the crowd.
"Where did that freak come from? Looks like a big bowling pin."
Short, big head!
An FBI agent responsible for the case suddenly remembered something—weren't those the killer's physical characteristics? Thinking of the over a hundred corpses that had been sucked dry, he shivered and quickly went to James, whispering a few words. The latter's face turned white with fear. He immediately called his men to disperse the crowd.
The police also reacted. Ignoring appearances, they roughly shoved and kicked the reporters aside, then raised their weapons and aimed at the large-headed monster in the sky.
Hector, dressed in a suit, slowly floated down. He raised a hand and waved it. James was hit as if by a massive blow, sent flying back into the wall, where he fell unconscious.
"Chief!"
The police officers' faces changed drastically, and they instinctively opened fire.
Six bullets flew in from various directions, but they eerily stopped two meters in front of Hector. The bullets continuously spun, seemingly fighting against some force, before finally settling and hanging motionless in mid-air.
Seeing this, everyone went silent. The air fell into an unnatural quiet.
Hector looked around, a satisfied expression flashing in his eyes. He loved this kind of entrance: shocking, dominant, crushing everything with overwhelming power.
This is what a man is!
Hector cleared his throat. He leisurely walked to James's position, picked up the microphone, and cleared his throat again. Realizing that everyone was staring at him, he suddenly felt a little flustered, like a novice giving his first public speech. The speech he'd rehearsed dozens of times was nowhere in his mind, so he had to improvise.
"H-hello, everyone. I am the dry corpse..." He paused. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Hector Hammond. You might not have heard of that name, but you've definitely heard my father's name. That's right, my father is Adam Hammond, the great Mayor Hammond, the great Senator Hammond."
"I am his son. Even though we don't look alike at all... ahem... change of topic. I am the killer you've been looking for in the dry corpse case, the so-called werewolf, vampire, and phantom on the internet..."
"Yes, all those one hundred-plus people were killed by me."
Boom!
The crowd erupted in an uproar. Not just the unsuspecting reporters, but the nearby police and FBI agents, too. They had seen many crazy people, but never one as utterly deranged as this large-headed monster.
Admitting to killing over a hundred people at a police chief's press conference!
What kind of lunatic would do this?
Reporters who had found their scoop frantically snapped photos. Some media personnel even interrupted their programs to live-broadcast Hector's confession.
A slightly bolder female reporter cautiously held out her microphone.
"Mr. Hammond, w-why did you kill so many people?"
"That's an excellent question."
Facing the female reporter, Hector didn't show his cruel, tyrannical side. Instead, he explained politely, just as his father, Senator Hammond, did during interviews.
"I don't kill because I have no other choice."
The female reporter asked, "You mean someone forced you?"
"No! No! No!"
Hector waved his hands repeatedly. "No one in this world can force me. I kill because... well, how should I put it..."
Hector reached up and scratched his forehead, seemingly struggling to explain. After a few seconds, he countered with a question.
"Beautiful lady, can you go three days without eating?"
The female reporter didn't understand what he meant and subconsciously shook her head. How could a person go three days without eating?
"Exactly!"
Hector clapped his hands and laughed proudly. "You all need to eat. You can't endure going three days without food. I am the same way."
Everyone was stunned at first, then endless horror dawned on them.
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