The beautiful daily life of Black Light Salted Fish

At 11:42 a.m. Albanian time, a pickup truck arrived in the northern part of Vlora and continued to travel to the edge.

Miss Watson held the Deshka heavy machine gun and aimed at a three-story building from a distance. With the steering wheel now in the hands of a black light servant, she was able to devote her full attention to the battle. In the past few hours, I encountered more than twenty waves of enemies of different sizes. The Saiga-3 shotgun had already run out of ammunition like the MSG12. Although it ran back to Silent Hill to resupply, it still couldn't hold on until now. The various Soviet-made weapons on the vehicle have been repaired, repaired and replaced, and even the vehicle itself has been replaced several times.

Relying on devouring flesh and blood to quickly replenish her injuries and energy, with the help of human black light servants, Miss Watson fought her way from the south to the north of Vlora City, killing over a hundred enemies. Although she won't get any bonus for this, she did get an important gain, which was the upgrade of gun sense. I don’t know if this period of time has passed, but Deadshot has finally been “analyzed” by the black light body. With high-frequency tense battles again and again, Miss Watson’s feeling about shooting is becoming more and more different.

It's as if the brain has truly become a ballistic computer.

She has even begun to master one of the most representative operations of Death Shooter - ricochet, which allows the warhead to hit the surface of a hard object from a certain angle, bounce off, and hit the target with a zigzag trajectory. Although for now, the success rate is less than 10%, and it can only be done with a pistol at close range. On the contrary, the RPG, which has a sharp drop in accuracy when flying two hundred meters away, has a better effect in her hands.

To be fair, RPGs are indeed more prone to ricochet...

Unfortunately, there is no way to continue trying now. Miss Watson does not want to blow up the hostages.

Ouch!

A warhead struck the hood.

Someone in the house began to fight back, and she maintained fire suppression, transmitting the instructions in her mind to the driver through the tentacles. The pickup truck accelerated suddenly, and another black light servant in the passenger seat also raised his gun and opened fire. Although these guys have average marksmanship, they are better because they are not afraid of pain or panic, and they always perform stably.

As the distance increases, the debris on the surface of the house that was hit by heavy machine gun bullets becomes more and more obvious. Most of the buildings in Vlora City are very old, but the bad thing is here. They are mostly built of stone, with thick and solid materials. They are as strong as a small castle. They are not easy to destroy without artillery and explosives.

The vehicle stopped and Miss Watson jumped out holding an RPD light machine gun.

The black light servant in the driver's seat climbed into the trunk and began to take over the Deshka heavy machine gun.

Jumping to the roof in two steps and absorbing a few unlucky people, the internal structure of the house appeared in his mind. Miss Watson pulled up the rope, swung her body and smashed through the north window on the third floor, catching the enemy by surprise. This was a large bedroom, and there were two naked women sitting next to the bed, hugging each other and screaming.

Miss Watson ignored them, kicked the front door open, and then threw the flash bomb. When the loud noise came, she knocked out the door on the right. The attention of several people in the corridor outside was attracted by the explosion. Suddenly they saw a woman appear, they turned around quickly, and then they were hit by a series of bullets. Miss Watson moved very quickly, and it was over in just one second, leaving only the big man closest to her.

"Ah ah ah ah ah!!!!"

The man rushed forward and grasped the hot barrel of the gun with his big hands. Miss Watson released her left hand and took a step forward to get close to the other person's chest. The knuckle of her middle finger protruded and poked the other person's fragile neck. The roar stopped abruptly. The man leaned back instinctively. He was pushed by a small hand and rolled down the stairs with his feet missing. The RPD light machine gun fired again. Blood spurted from his rolling body. He slid out of the last step and stopped moving.

Withdrawing her eyes, Miss Watson turned and walked towards the south room.

The memory fragment showed that the unfortunate reporter was not on the third floor, so she threw another flash bomb, which hit the wall and accurately bounced into the door. This time there were screams inside, and someone fired randomly at the door. Miss Watson leaned quietly behind the load-bearing wall, counting the bullets inside, and heard the increasingly obvious vibration of the magazine spring. The next second, a certain gun finally stopped moving.

She threw an F-1 grenade expressionlessly, then picked up the RPD and walked in.

All the men in the room fell to the ground. Miss Watson finished filling her gun, opened the window and jumped down. The body rotated in mid-air, and the fingertips of his left hand pressed against the wall to stop his falling. At this time, she was close to the south window on the second floor. The RPD was held with one hand and opened fire. A series of bullets smashed the heads of the people below who were looking outside.

Ouch!

The tentacles first threw a flash bomb inside. Ms. Watson stepped on the window frame with her soles and fired short bursts at the enemies in the room. She jumped into the house while hitting. When the military boots fell to the ground, there were only corpses left in front of him. The next second, two men poked their heads out of the room door. She picked up the RPD and fired several bullets into the head of one of the targets.

"Only one person! She only has one person!!"

The remaining enemy quickly retracted his head and shouted loudly: "It's in the room, hurry, hurry, hurry! Surround her!!"

Da da da da da da! ! !

The room was immediately under fire, the wooden board wall in front was scattered with debris, and a stream of bullets flew towards Miss Watson. She dashed towards the corner, stuffed an F-1 grenade into the pocket of a man's corpse, and threw him out the door with one hand. A moment later, a huge shaking sound caused a layer of dust to fall on the entire ceiling. Miss Watson crouched down, aimed at the wooden wall and fired empty bullets, then abandoned the gun and replaced it with the AKM hanging on the belly, and slammed it forward.

Clap!

The wooden wall was completely shattered, and a horrified man stood right in front of him. Without stopping, Miss Watson quickly punched him in the neck, pulled him over to use as a human shield, and raised her gun towards the remaining enemies in the room.

......

"Hello? It's me, Deathstroke."

After the fierce battle, the house was filled with smoke.

Miss Watson came to the car, pulled her two human black light servants into a small corner to devour them, and then started talking to Salazar on the phone in a male voice: "Do me a favor, I have a friend who is still posting Laura City needs to be evacuated... Yes, there is no need to cover, her combat effectiveness is very strong, you just need to arrange a response. What I mean is 2 directions, evacuate 2 women, one to Italy, and maybe another For other passengers, arrange other subsequent routes; the other one goes to Romania, just deliver it, can you arrange it? The price is easy to say..."

After hanging up the phone, she stepped on the corpses on the ground and walked down to the cellar.

Crunch - poof! ! !

The iron door full of bullet holes simply fell to the ground this time.

"Jimora Dalton..."

A strong stench hit the tip of her nose again. Miss Watson stepped on a piece of dried urine on her military boots and looked at the naked man tied with a rusty chain in the corner: "Mr. Deathstroke asked me to say hello to you on his behalf."

"......Who are you?"

Jimora raised his head. His face was covered with bruises and scars, and one of his eyes was swollen.

"It doesn't matter who I am, what's important is that you are saved now." Miss Watson opened the lock with the key and dragged the woman's body to the bathroom on the second floor: "Take care of yourself, find some clothes to wear, and get clean. Let's set off. I found you with great difficulty, so don't lose your mind and run out on your own, understand?"

"Wait! Where are you going?"

Seeing that there was another body in the bathroom, the female reporter was dumbfounded.

"I'll get your travel expenses."

Miss Watson said this and disappeared at the top of the stairs without closing the door.

Half an hour later, the woman stumbled out, wearing ill-fitting clothes and pants that could not cover the large scars on her wrists and neck. After arriving at this place, she tried to escape, but was quickly captured by gang members, locked in a cellar, and tortured. If it hadn't been for Miss Watson's "visit", this woman might have been locked up until death.

"Okay, get in the car."

After glancing at the three women following Jimora, Miss Watson waved her hand without surprise and started the pickup truck engine. It would definitely cost money to ask Salazar to arrange transportation, but Mr. Deathstroke had no way to pay the bill, and it was too troublesome to move around online. So she simply ransacked and plundered on the roadside. In addition to throwing a truckload of arms into Silent Hill, she also looted many small vaults.

"Ouch!"

Jimora stepped into the passenger seat with one foot, but the bullet casing on the floor of the car slipped and almost fell.

"Listen up, girls, we may be attacked by idle people on the road. If I speed up, you should lower your head, hold your body steady, and preferably lie down; if I stop, it means that I want to solve the problem, so you should get off the car. Hide and don't run too far, understand?" Miss Watson put her left hand on the steering wheel, her right hand skillfully upshifted, and translated again in English and Russian.

The woman looked at Miss Watson's face, mostly covered by a beret and a black kerchief, making those eyes even more striking. Viewed from the side, under the sunshine just after noon, the scarlet pupils reflected a light yellow color, and the long eyelashes trembled in the wind. They were more delicate than any beauty eye photos she had ever seen.

For so long in Albania, Jimora has seen many women who are more beautiful than herself, but she has never been in a situation like this. Just a pair of eyes made her feel ashamed. Not to mention the staggering size of the pair of huge breasts on the opponent's chest, which were constantly rising and falling due to the shaking of the car. Even if they were both women, Jimora couldn't help but feel a little strange in this scene.

"...Is Mr. Deathstroke okay?"

Even though she was physically and mentally exhausted, the journalist's professional habits still prevented her from speaking out. Because the front windshield was lowered, after gaining speed, the car was filled with wind noise. Jimola had to strain his voice: "I heard that the army came that day and there were plane bombings. Many people All dead."

"Oh, he's doing very well."

Miss Watson put up the front windshield: "We will go northwest, pass the town of Nalta, and then drive along Nalta Lagoon to Dailan Beach. If you are sleepy, take a nap. , we’ll find some food when we pass through the town.”

"of course."

The woman's eyes wandered for a few times, but in the end she said nothing and leaned back in the chair and fell asleep.