I Have a Mansion in the Post-apocalyptic World

It was daybreak, and an uninvited guest greeted the inaccessible alley.

With his right hand hidden inside his jacket pocket, Agent Davis walked into the alley and tightly grasped onto the M9 pistol with the safety unlocked. He carefully searched the alley.

Just a few days ago, Agent Braddock, who was tracking Abel Torres in Colombia, disappeared in his apartment.

After he received the order from the headquarters, Davis immediately tied up the loose ends on his end and headed from Brazil to Colombia. He traced the clues of drug lord Abel Torres and arrived in the vice city known as Bogota.

Based on the informant’s intelligence and existing leads, Abel Torres met with a Florida “dealer” at a bar near the airport last night. Based on rumors, a major event was about to take place which made the drug dealer exchange all his stock into weapons.

Davis didn’t know what the “major event” Torres mentioned that is about to happen in Colombia was. Just like he didn’t know the whereabouts of his colleague, but they were both reasons why he showed up here in the first place. The CIB’s senior officials placed heavy emphasis on this matter. Not only did they gave him the highest level of authority, but they even promised him the authority to mobilize a SEAL team when necessary.

Now, all the leads led him here.

From a homeless man, at the expense of 10 dollars, he learned that Abel Torres appeared in this alley in the early hours of yesterday morning. There was also a blonde girl who also appeared here, and she was only about twelve or thirteen years old.

Davis took two seconds to mourn for the girl that likely suffered an unfortunate fate after he learned the drug lord’s special hobby, then he moved forward in the alley.

The faint smell of blood in the air made him frown.

Soon, he found some unusualness from a few details on the ground.

“Hair?”

He kneeled down, and took out his gloves, then used a pair of tweezers to pick up the strand of brown hair.

With his other hand, he took out the flashlight and put the hair under the bright light. He quickly discovered the issue.

“Brown matches with Torres’ hair color. The cut is clean and doesn’t look like it was torn off in a fight, but was like cut directly by a sharp instrument. Bloodstains? Who does this belong to?”

The conditions here obviously did not permit him to do DNA testing.

Davis took out a small plastic bag about the size of his index finger from his pocket, clamped the strand of hair with the tweezers, and carefully inserted it into the bag.

After he finished that, he continued to search the ground for evidence.

However, to his surprise, he found a lot of useful clues on the ground but did not find the one he was searching for.

“Blonde hair… this is not right; it should be very conspicuous. Did Torres not encounter any resistance when he was abusing the girl? But that can’t explain the hair and blood…and the fibers left behind.”

David quietly analyzed as he continued to move deeper into the alley.

Just as he passed a row of trash cans, he suddenly stopped.

With a frown, his gaze turned to the row of trash cans.

In the disgusting rancid smell, there was a subtle smell of blood that was even stronger than before.

He reached for the lid of the trash can.

The second he opened the lid, the pungent smell blew into his face and made him subconsciously move his head back.

Then he looked at the newspaper in the trash can and fiddled the pieces around.

Just after he put his hand on the newspaper, he immediately felt something wet.

After a moment of hesitation, he suddenly ripped the newspaper away.

When he saw what was buried under the newspaper, his face turned pale, and nauseousness agitated his stomach. A stream of fluid almost oozed up to his Adam’s apple.

Arms, organs, even eyeballs…all the organs were neatly placed in the bloody trash can and it perfectly utilized every inch of space.

However, this merciless neatness was what made this bloody scene crueler and colder. Even if he was used to seeing corpses and blood, he couldn’t help feeling the tremor and fear deep in his bones as he stared at the scene in front of him.

What kind of person could be so cruel…

“God… Sh*t…”

He muttered incoherently as he put on his plastic gloves and took out the head mechanically. Then he flipped it to the right side, used his finger to slide down the nose, and stopped at the jaw.

“Abel Torres…no way this can’t be.”

David took two steps back and muttered blankly. He tore off the plastic gloves and threw them into the bag he was carrying

“This is Standard-bearer…” David pressed a button on his collar, fought down the urge to vomit, and squeezed out the words one by one, “I have confirmed the whereabouts of Abel Torres.”

“Where!?” Baird grabbed the radio and hurriedly said into channel inside the special operations command room.

“In an alley outside the airport,” Davis, with his face as pale as a ghost, glanced at the pile of indescribable things. “Fifteen meters in and turn left. In the second trash can…”

Baird was stunned, he thought he heard wrong.

“The second… trash can?”

“Yes,” Davis swallowed down hard, “A total of three people were killed, or cruelly dismembered, and stuffed into the trash can. One of them was Torres, and the others were his henchman, with a very long name, a native of South America.”

“You mean, Abel Torres… was killed?” Baird said, his voice was in complete disbelief.

After Davis took a deep breath, he spoke slowly.

“Yes.”

Although the CIB was eager to get rid of this guy, the organization absolutely did not want him to die here. There was plenty of information that could be extracted from him. Now that he had died in an inexplicable manner, this completely disrupted their plan.

“Where’s Agent Braddock…” Baird asked.

“I don’t know,” Davis smiled wryly, “The only thing that I’m certain is that he is not in this trash can.”

“Find the murderer who killed Abel Torres! He might know something.”

“Yes…”

Davis ended the communication and the wry smile on his face was even more apparent.

The lead stopped here.

Who executed Abel Torres in such a cruel way? Was it just a gang murder, or was the greatest mystery being buried here?

Also, where is Agent Braddock now? Did he discover something before he disappeared?

For some odd reason, Davis suddenly felt chills behind him.

From the putrid smell mixed with blood, he subtly felt a hint of conspiracy.

His instinct had always been accurate.

And now, his instinct told him that he had only seen the tip of the iceberg…