Nothing stays the same

Chapter twenty

Humor can be funny, or determined by mere fucking congratulations—not in this case, how the fuck did a sign—sturdy sign fall on a blind women's body?
Proper questioning isn't wrong when you happen to witness the whole spectacle while grabbing a donut from your favorite donut stand. Weren't joking when they said this city has a crime rate of 120% per hour.
She wasn't having any walking stick, and her arm was botched with needle wounds, and forced injections—another barcode, like Mute.
"Peng Peng." Ling Sung Jiao remarked, "She has a barcode like Mute."
Disabilities, barcodes, all of them also have blue eyes, something up entirely on the matter. Worse yet, this one's sterilized, forced one could say.
"Flaws." Zheng Peng commented.
"Flaws? Ah, you don't think they're trying to get rid of imperfection?" Ling Sung Jiao inquired.
The bumbling bloke's idea isn't so far off—but that's just frosting upon the cake, this goes even deeper—far deeper than anything could've imagined.
"Mute's barcode is darker than here's." Zheng Peng commented.
She's older, the barcode is lighter—hasn't escaped that long ago, held up there for a good five-ten years at best.
"Ah, that's right. I should ask the second brother about that." Ling Sung Jiao remarked, "He can probably dig something up."
Information isn't as safe as eras in the future, rather delayed in wholesome—things can be found because hardly anyone bothers to use western safes, but trust their people and servants more, to keep a tight lip upon any important matters, fatal and shrewd indeed.
"Whatever you decide." Zheng Peng commented, "I find this far more interesting than it should be."
She ended up getting dragged to the morgue, Blind she was called, with no proper name.
Blind was a skinny woman, her blue eyes shined. Her white dress was notched and mixed with blood and tears as well.
The most disturbing part, for many. Would the clear fact, her hair, be as sharp as needles? It seems they try to replace the flaws, with something supernatural—attempting to create the perfect balance of human and god-like monsters.
Deranged, like trying to make a president commit treason, against the oath very sworn upon.
"What drugs were in her system, Doc?" Zheng Peng muttered, "Something?"
Doc is his name, don't think of a nickname—for to complain. He wears spectacles, a nice black coat, wearing jewels earrings upon his ears, and his hair was styled with a long braid.
"Genetic mutation drug. Called Compound S, highly illegal and the only liable source, Tung Man. Ran by Deng Man." Doc explained, "How did they smuggle it without getting caught by the hounds, wouldn't know."
Compound S figured they would be involved—white coats.
"Doc." Ling Sung Jiao spoke, "Didn't Peng Peng...end up found that way?"
The bumbling bloke's memories are rather impeccable, in that exact moment, bearing such seeded withering.
"Idiot." Zheng Peng remarked, "Let's go eat lunch, before Mrs.H complains about how skinny you are, again."
Exiting out of the morgue, looking at the rummaging crowd, carrying their newborn inventions cameras, portal cameras in this case.
"Do you have anything to say on this matter?" Reporter 1 inquired.
The bumbling bloke chuckled, "Obviously it's a murder, not self-inflicted killing."
Reporter 1 seemed to take this to heart and wrote it down in their notepad.
Pushing their the crowd, entering a nice cafe, and sitting down in a booth.
The heavy smell of coffee and cigars mellowed through the shouting and raging protesting upon another murder taking place, let alone in broad daylight.
"Peng Peng, do you think it's okay to leave Mrs.H and Zheng Ping alone for the day?" Ling Sung Jiao inquired.
"I don't think it will be that bad." Zheng Peng remarked, "She might get rid of her, fully."