American comic book police officer survival manual

Inside the bustling shooting range, a row of competitors sat sideways, inspecting their respective firearms.

As an invited police officer, Lucius seemed to have become the focus of attention among the many contestants. Besides him, the contestant who received the most cheers and attention was the man with glasses who looked rather artistic.

Jeremy, a favorite to win the championship, seems to be favored by many students.

When it was Lucius's turn, with a nod from the staff, he went to the position, raised his air rifle, and stared at the tiny target in the scope.

His breathing caused the sights of the air rifle in his hand to rise and fall. Having never handled a similar weapon before, Lucius frowned, trying to suppress his breathing and heartbeat...

While maintaining the air rifle's stability with all his might, Lucius pulled the trigger after a fleeting, subtle sensation.

The distant target trembled slightly, and the corresponding score appeared on the electronic screen.

Seven rings.

Keeping his hands steady, Lucius moved the muzzle of the gun, trying to find that subtle feeling.

Four shots were fired in quick succession, and a bright red light appeared on the screen, indicating that there had been a miss.

Six rings, five rings, two rings, missed the target.

The repeated firing in a short period of time had clearly exhausted Lucius, who had very little experience with air guns.

Scratching his head awkwardly, Lucius put down his air rifle, returned to the contestant's seat, and exchanged a brief glance with Jeremy.

"Haven't you ever handled an air gun before?"

Jeremy noticed something amiss with Lucius's performance.

The opponent's grip on the air rifle was clumsy, and his breathing was strained, suggesting he had never participated in a similar shooting competition before.

Lucius handed the air rifle back to the staff member and shrugged: "I'm just a regular cop... air rifle shooting might still be a bit difficult for me."

"To hit the target on the first try is already considered genius. Shooting is generally about feel, and accuracy comes entirely from practice."

Jeremy picked up his air rifle and walked onto the shooting range, a smile of extreme confidence on his face.

A series of gunshots rang out, and the scores lit up on the five screens one after another, causing the students watching in the stadium to gasp in surprise.

Seven rings, eight rings, ten rings, nine rings, eight rings.

Jeremy's amazing results naturally propelled him to the top of the rankings, leaving all other competitors far behind.

"Jeremy! Cool!!!"

"Even Gotham's police officers are no match for Jeremy. Are these the Black Doves?"

"Jeremy's shooting ability is already at the national team level, so it's normal that Mr. Lucius can't compare."

Even the "special guest" lost to the Black Dove Club's elites. The cheering college students shouted Jeremy's name loudly in the venue, their eyes filled with fervor.

"I'm definitely better at firearms..."

Listening to the cheers of the college students, Lucius curled his lip, losing much interest in the upcoming shooting competition.

Rather than wasting time playing around with the students, he was now more curious about the whereabouts of the corpses in the morgue.

The newspaper keeps leaking information, so it seems they really want me to go and explore it myself...

Having failed to achieve outstanding results in the competition, Lucius has begun to think about cases that could lead to his promotion.

Pamela felt a bad premonition when she saw her lover's gaze always drifting towards the outside of the venue.

"Lucius, you want to investigate the case?"

"Yes, the incident from yesterday isn't over yet. There hasn't even been an autopsy. I'm always worried that something unexpected might happen."

As things stand, all the clues point to the mysterious and eerie Black Pigeon Society. Lucius is very worried that the body that committed suicide will also disappear silently in the morgue.

If you miss even simple cases, then a promotion will be a long way off.

Lucius glanced at Jeremy, who was enjoying the cheers on the podium, and slowly stood up.

"but..."

Knowing that the Black Dove Society was colluding with certain organizations, Pamela suddenly stood up, but Lucius waved her hand to stop her.

"I'm sorry, Pamela, I have to leave for a while. See you at the cafeteria at noon."

The police forensic examiner would be arriving soon, and Lucius was unwilling to miss the opportunity to solve the case.

But he didn't want Pamela to go to a dangerous place like him. Although it was impolite to leave a lady alone, it was better than her getting caught up in some trouble.

After last night's events, Lucius now only hopes that Pamela is alright...

Faced with Lucius's resolute expression, Pamela opened her mouth, but ultimately nodded:

"...Okay, I'll wait for you in the cafeteria."

She couldn't change her lover's mind; perhaps in the heart of this conscientious police officer, the case was always this important.

Just as Lucius respected her special care for plants, she would respect Lucius's profession...

but.

She certainly didn't want Lucius to get hurt at her school...

Watching Lucius's departing figure, Pamela silently followed in his footsteps, trailing him all the way...

......

Gotham University Medical Center, morgue.

Inside the cold room, the eerie, dim light flickered intermittently, illuminating rows of bloodless corpses.

This space was originally intended to be used as a training ground for medical students in Gotham, but now it has been set aside for a poor student.

"Grus Whiccott, a member of the Black Dove Society, bled to death after severing his own carotid artery with a knife while drunk..."

As he took out his phone and read aloud the information sent by Sheriff Gordon, Lucius's brow furrowed even more deeply.

Although a full and thorough forensic autopsy was not conducted last night, a basic injury report for the deceased was produced.

The deceased almost completely severed his own neck with a knife. This decisive and horrifying method was not the behavior of a suicide victim at all, but rather more like the revenge of someone with deep-seated hatred.

"Would someone who's half-drunk and contemplating suicide really cut themselves that deep with a knife?"

Staring at the image on his phone showing a neck that was almost completely severed, Lucius felt a chill run down his spine and became more wary of the Black Pigeon Society.

If everything is as the girl said, and the student named Gross died by suicide, then his mental state is indeed highly questionable.

Either the Black Dove Society truly dealt a huge blow to that child, or this damned organization might have some kind of cult-like nature, capable of plunging people into a bizarre mental state, even making them willing to commit suicide without hesitation.

And those Black Dove Club students who committed suicide or dropped out of school for "special reasons" are probably the same...

"No matter what, let me see the condition of the body with my own eyes."

Arriving at the corresponding number in the morgue, Lucius was about to lift the white sheet when he heard a few eerie soft sounds beside his ear.

A very faint footstep was approaching from the corridor, seemingly heading straight for Lucius's room!

"Hmm... so they really came?"

Suppressing his breathing and heartbeat, Lucius silently bypassed the area directly opposite the door and went to a dark corner of the morgue, staring intently at the closed door...