Beast

Perot looked at a cage in a warehouse and couldn't help taking a breath.

There is a person in each cage. They are well-built, with scars and tattoos on their bodies, their muscles are full and bulging, and their lines are as beautiful as works of art. When they reach out and touch them - Cuenca told him to do it - they are so hard Perot was shocked, he couldn't imagine that this was human flesh.

They sit or lie down quietly in their cages.

Some were reading a book, drooling from time to time to turn a page.Some legs are hooked on the railing, doing exercises to stretch their muscles and bones.Some rolled up their sleeping bags and snored loudly.

Some of them inadvertently glanced at Perot, neither smiling nor angry, and turned their eyes away naturally.

This is the largest human trafficking market in this province, and this warehouse is the most profitable one in the market.

They sell rampages that are more terrifying than killers.

It's just that they don't seem to be violent except for their appearance.

Perrault had heard of such a place, but he had never been there himself.

In fact, people who work in his line of work will inevitably find some such people to protect their own safety after they grow up and become rich.But Perot was lazy and kept procrastinating.

"Don't look at them as docile, they are devils when released." Kunka said, pointing to a one-eyed man diagonally above, "The last time I saw him in the boxing ring, he punched the opponent down with one punch .I originally wanted him, but the number is full, and I will definitely take him next time there is a vacancy. But of course, if you want it, I will give it to you.”

As Cuenka knocked on the numbered nameplate in front of the cage, the man turned his head and said hello to Cuenka.

The man was so strong that Perrault felt that one of his arms was thicker than his own thigh.

"And that one," Cuenka walked two steps forward with his arms around Perot's shoulders, pointing to a young man on the lower left who was tearing bread one by one and stuffing it into his mouth slowly, "he's fine too, No defeat in 35 consecutive games. However, he is still young and has never served customers before, so he may lack actual combat experience.”

The young man looked up at Cuenka, grinned and showed his white teeth, put a piece of bread into Cuenka's hand, and cursed—"If you don't want to be my client, next time I will kill you for my client."

Cuenca laughed, stuffed the bread into his mouth, and continued to lead Pero forward.

The warehouse is long and narrow, and you can't see the end at a glance.

It's eerily quiet here, and the slightest words and footsteps can produce huge echoes.

Perot carefully looked at each person in the cage. Most of them were men, but there were also a few women.The scars on their bodies are their only resumes, and their names—they have no names, only the numbers in front of the cage, and the codes given to them after being bought by customers.

Perot noticed a man with welts on his body, and couldn't help but stop.

That person looks handsome, just like walking out of a famous painting.The muscle lines are also very smooth, as if from a magic brush.He has curly hair, but his eyes are so clear that it's hard to believe his identity.

He stretched out his hand from the cage and first said to Perot—"Hello."

Pero swallowed, reached out to shake his hand, looked at the welt that destroyed the beauty, hesitated for a moment, and asked Cuenca next to him-"Isn't this a free market, they will... be whipped?"

Kunka snorted and raised his chin at the man, "Say it yourself."

The man explained apologetically—"I beat it myself. My body hurts and I can do things more quickly. If the customer doesn't like it, I don't have to beat it."

Perot raised an eyebrow.

He used to be reluctant to come here, because he felt that the people who were trafficked into such things were abnormal, either they were surly and irritable, or they were vulgar and unsightly, and he absolutely didn't want to put such dregs by his side.

But now he had to say—they were normal, except for the unusual decoration here, they seemed to be a group of normal-sounding, friendly guys, and even a little shy.

Maybe he even has a better temper than him.

Perot then walked forward until he reached the depths of the warehouse.

At this time, his eyes fell on a cage in the corner.In fact, this man is not special. He is different from those outside who are either scary thick, or handsome, or look like a child who hasn't grown up. He doesn't have any particularly obvious signs.

He had a wine bottle in his hand, which Perrault noticed when he looked closely—he had many bottles in his cage.

"You can still drink here?" Pero glanced at Cuenca.

"As long as they can control themselves, they don't make trouble." Kunka replied.

Perot nodded, bent down slightly, and looked at the man inside more carefully.

The man had already drank a lot, but his eyes were still awake. He smiled at Perot, and then took a few sips from the bottle.

"But I suggest you not to choose him," Cuenca persuaded. "Although he beats hard, he is too addicted to alcohol. His previous client was brought to drink with him, and he fell into the swimming pool and drowned."

Perot was surprised, "Is this all right?"

"Okay, he will bring everyone around him to drink with him." Kunka kicked the cage.

As if he didn't understand what Cuenka said, the man raised the wine bottle as a signal, and then took a few gulps.

"By the way, he doesn't understand our language." Kunka said, "If you want this, it may not be convenient to convey the order later."

"Smuggled here?" Perot asked.

"Everyone came here illegally, but he is probably a poor student." Kunka laughed.Then he also possessed himself and exchanged a few words with the man, using words that Perot could not understand.

The man looked at Cuenca, then at Pero, said a few alcohol-smelling words, and then grinned.

After hearing this, Kunka laughed even more exaggeratedly. Not only that, he hugged Perot's shoulders tightly, and the man waved his hand to express his apology when he said something to him.

"What did you say?" Perot asked curiously.

"He said that he was willing to work for you, willing to give up his life to protect a beautiful man," Kunka said, "but I told him that you are mine, and he, a toad, can just beat him up."

Perot laughed too.

The man knocked on the railing, brought Cuenca closer, said a few more words, and turned his head to Perrault.

"He said you are beautiful, and he hasn't seen such a beautiful man for a long time." Cuenca touched Pero's head and said, "This is another reason why you don't choose him-their people talk softly Too many, don't get carried away by them."

Perot was a little embarrassed after hearing that.

When he was young, someone praised him for his good looks, but now—the beer belly is about to come out, and his face is also wrinkled. If you praise him for his good looks at this time, you don't even need to think about it.

But it's been a long time since Perot has heard that said.

He quite likes this person, this is a kind of eye-catching.He has no experience in picking such people, so he can only trust his feelings.

"How about it, choose one, and I will pay for you." Kunka said generously.

It was time to pick one, especially after Perot's attack, which he realized was imminent.Otherwise, he would never have come to this place in person, and he would never have watched cage by cage in this suffocatingly dull warehouse.

Perot recalled that day with still chills.

The attack came so suddenly that Perrault was unprepared.

He came out of the flag bar that day and got into one of the most inconspicuous cars.The car was picked up from the neighboring province just the day before yesterday, and the license plate hadn't even been hung up yet. He didn't think anyone would be able to recognize him with this car.

And he also chose a random road, he just asked the driver to give him two laps with the help of alcohol, sober up a little before going to the house, so the driver didn't take the usual way to go home.

He didn't open the glass window wide, but just opened a small slit to allow the night wind to blow in and breathe out the dull compartment.

So he didn't think he'd be attacked at all—unless the guy was hanging out in a bar, or had an insider.

After half an hour, he felt that his mind was almost ready to think, so he tapped on the driver's seat to make the driver retreat.

It's been a long time since he's had that much alcohol, but today a friend came over and was happy, so he overdosed.He is not young anymore, if he is not in his early twenties, he will be drunk like mud, and he will be full of energy the next day after sleeping.

From the time he crossed the 25-year-old threshold, he felt that staying up late and drinking heavily were too energy-draining activities for him.And he doesn't take cold showers anymore, he needs to put a tank of warm water, take a good soak, and drink some yogurt before going to bed to supplement the protein that alcohol kills.

He needs to wake up before taking a shower, otherwise, when the warm water is heated, the blood will rush into his head more quickly with alcohol, making him unconscious, and naturally he won't be able to get up on time the next day.

But he had to get up the next day, and he had to meet a very important partner.

He learned that the other party had already arrived by plane tonight, and it was 02:30 in the morning, and he probably landed safely, and found a place where he could wash away the smoke and fatigue, and soak in the gentle countryside.

That man was called Cuenca, and he had been his partner for eight years.

Perrault is in charge of the market in the province, while Cuenca is in charge of the neighboring provinces.In the past eight years, they have come and gone through wind and rain, and now they can be regarded as the pillars of the group.

But what kind of business—we’ll talk about that later.

According to common sense, Cuenca and Perot will not be very familiar with each other. They don't see each other all year round, and there is no chance to get acquainted.

However, Cuenca is an acquaintance. Since the first meeting eight years ago, Perot has been put down almost every time we meet.It might be embarrassing to get drunk once in front of the same person, but get drunk countless times - and they become best friends who know each other.

Every time Cuenca came back, Perot stepped up security.Whether it's strengthening the other party's or your own.What people like them are most afraid of is being followed in their whereabouts. Whether it is followed by a white shadow or a black shadow, the result is not easy.

It's the same this time, doubling the manpower of all real estate, warehouses, and kitchens, and making everyone carry guns.

Perot can guarantee that he will not cause trouble, but Cuenca—wherever Cuenca goes, troubles will follow, and Perot has to help him prevent it.

So Perot couldn't figure it out. It's okay for him to be swept away on weekdays, but he chose to sweep the field at this time-either the enemy's brain was caught by the door and deliberately shot at the muzzle, or he had a fatal negligence point.

But no matter which one it is, it can only be considered after the exchange of fire.

And when they saw their villa, they almost parked the car in front of the door. Suddenly, Perot felt something was wrong—although all the guards were in their positions, and they really couldn't see anything unusual, but the man's The sixth sense was what sounded the alarm for him.

Perot took out his gun and ordered the two guards who were in the car to go down first, then rolled up the windows, and sat in the car and waited quietly.

Perhaps the enemy also found out that he had the intention to detect, so he continued to attack Perot who was still in the car without stopping.

Suddenly, two vans rushed out of the woods and blocked their car one after the other.Immediately afterwards, more people rushed out of the woods, holding submachine guns and shooting at the vehicles.

The driver was killed on the spot, but Perot got down on the ground immediately.

The security guards guarding around the villa rushed to meet him with guns, while Perot pushed open the car door, while using the body to cover and shoot, while watching the opportunity to retreat into the villa.

His original plan was to rely on his own number of guards. As long as he retreated into the villa, the bulletproof glass window would also make their counterattack effective and buy him time to bring in reinforcements.

However, he miscalculated, and it was all the alcohol's fault.

This group of people seemed to have been staying for a long time, and their firepower and manpower were definitely no less than his.But when Perrault saw someone carrying Gatlin out of the shadow of the tree—he thought to himself, the villa probably couldn't bear it, and he had to go around the backyard and get away in another car.

But he wanted this trick, and so did the enemy.

The other party didn't give him time to retreat. While he was retreating into the villa through the front door, he watched the killers and guards around him fall down one by one.The opponent's firepower was too fierce, and with this suppression alone, he could hit Huanglong directly.

He barely squeezed through the door of the hall, and the two guards in the house immediately closed the door.It's a pity that they were still a step too late. The moment one of them buckled the lock, a grenade rolled in through the crack of the door, instantly blasting the door and the two people beside the door to a bloody mess.

Perot hurriedly lifted the sofa seat, took the submachine gun underneath and fired violently at the door.

He backed up while beating until he reached the kitchen and approached the small door at the back of the kitchen.

He glanced out of the window, and that look cut off his back as well.

I don't know who broke through the line of defense, and his spare car was already on fire.

He cursed a few words, threw away the gun and took out some bags of dynamite from under the counter in the kitchen.He thought to himself, well, since you are determined to kill me, then I have to hold a few backs when I die.

The sound of gunfire and artillery fire outside the house became more and more violent. Although both the enemy and the enemy suffered losses, the situation of both sides knew that the victory and defeat had been divided.

The kitchen door was also kicked open. Perot picked up the submachine gun again and fired the last bullet.

He killed the three who squeezed in, but more followed.So he drew his pistol again and fought back with all his might.

He didn't want to die in this villa, really didn't want to.

He was not afraid of death, for a man like him death was a friend who never knew when to visit.

Maybe after getting into the car one day, maybe after drinking coffee and coming out of the shop, maybe just having dinner with a group of friends, one of them will suddenly send a bullet into his skull-maybe not so straightforward, there will be a The cold handcuffs were put on first, and then I went to and from the dock several times, and finally ended in fatigue.

But not now, absolutely not.

For no particular reason, just unconvinced.

But sometimes even if he is not convinced, he has to admit that the pistol has already made a rattling shell sound, and there is nothing to make him continue to resist.Throw away the cutlery on the desk?No, he didn't believe that he could throw a knife and hit a person's face exactly.

He hoped that the other party really came to kill him, instead of torture for some information, then he could get a clean one without going through the torture before death.

However, the development of things was different from what he had imagined. Just as he was ready and began to recite prayers for himself, more intense artillery fire sounded from a distance.

One of the people who squeezed in took a look back, and it was this look that gave Perot a chance. He suddenly rushed forward with a fruit knife and plunged it into his neck.

Now that he's picked up a gun, he can probably fight back a little longer.

God will favor those who don't give up, so he doesn't know who the rescuers are, but he watches the enemies in the captured small hall begin to fall.

They were headshot or sieved by bullets, and the reinforcements like heavenly soldiers and generals made Perot so grateful that he wanted to cry.

He came out of the kitchen little by little, raised his hand and killed a young man who was at a loss behind the porch because of the sudden turn of the battle, he finally saw the person outside the house.

The man was smoking a cigarette and standing in front of Perrault's car.He didn't wear a lining, but actually put on a pajamas with his upper body naked.His hair was still wet, and he looked as if he received a message while taking a shower, and ran over without even drying himself.

But at this moment, his expression is very calm, even a little arrogant.

And those who shuttle back and forth around him are some killers with brand marks on their arms.

Those killers were shirtless, not even body armor.There are dense tattoos all over the body, like language and totem.

Perot put the pistol down and let out a long sigh of relief.

"I've asked you to buy a few too. Look, how useful they are." Kunka grinned and exhaled a thick puff of smoke.

He strode forward and gave Perrault a greasy hug.

Over his shoulders, those killers painted with totems rolled like shadows.They slaughtered quietly, like executioners in the skin of wild animals.

But they are indeed beasts, because they are not ordinary killers.

In this country, they are called - fighting beasts.

Today, Pero will also have his first fighting beast.

And inexplicably, he felt that this so-called smooth-talking and alcoholic guy could really be his new helper.

"I want him," Perrault said, getting down on one knee, reaching out to the man in the cage, and asking—"What do you think?"

The man took Perrault's hand, while the other hand reached out and touched Perrault's face.It was only later that Perrault realized that it was a gesture of his hand instead of a kiss.

He uttered a syllable, and he understood Perrault.