[Comprehensive] Pass me the fire

Now I'm in a bit of a mess.

Holding a Vongola ring of unknown origin, I stood alone on the streets of Italy, looking at the people coming and going-all foreigners with blond hair and blue eyes, deep-featured faces, and Italian-speaking, feeling a little dazed.

10 minutes ago, I was still staying in Naimori Town, Japan, but I just walked out of the house to pick up a ring, and when I came back to my senses, I was already in a completely strange place.This inexplicable development is like some fairy tale strayed into fairyland.

This seems to be a commercial street.

The street floor is covered with uneven stone slabs, and there are various retro buildings standing on both sides. Although I have stayed in Italy for a long time because of my identity, I don’t often come out because of the time interval and peacetime. Walking around, I'm still quite new to this place, and finally only know it is Naples, a city in southern Italy, from a street shop owner.

By the way, the store owner also kindly told me the current year and date. He thought I was a foreigner visiting Italy from my appearance. He first praised my fluent Italian, and then wished me a good time in Naples.

I thank you with a heavy heart.

What is worse than coming to Italy from Japan within 10 minutes is coming to Italy ten years ago.

...At this point in time, I myself haven't even been born yet.

After confirming the time and place, I couldn't help lowering my head, narrowing my eyes slightly, and began to examine the ring in my hand.

No matter in terms of style, texture or details, this is the real Vongola Dakong ring, not a fake.But this ring is slightly different from the one in Sawada Tsunayoshi's hand.

There is too much blood on this ring.Dark red to almost black blood stains settled on the groove of the ring, turning into dirt that was difficult to wash off thoroughly. In addition to the blood stains, there were many scratches and scratches on the ring, and even the inside of the ring could not be cleaned. spared.

It can be seen that this ring is very old.I lifted it up and looked at it carefully against the sun. It seemed to be dying, and even under the bright Mediterranean sun, it was difficult to radiate the slightest brilliance.

After inspecting this Vongola Dakong ring for a moment, I held it in my palm and put it in my coat pocket.The authenticity of this ring will not be mentioned for the time being, but since I came to this place inexplicably after coming into contact with it, that is to say, if I want to go back, this ring may be the key.

But how to use it to go back, I can't think of it for a while.The most important thing now is to get familiar with this completely unfamiliar place to me as soon as possible.

As I walked on the street, I was thinking about the few items I had with me.

It happened suddenly, and what I had on me was also very scarce.Apart from the Dakong ring in my hand, the only things I can use on my body are the two handles, the gun and the dagger tied on the outside of my thighs.Because the bullets in the gun were replenished the day before, the number of bullets in the pistol is still barely sufficient, but since it cannot be replenished in a short period of time, it is necessary to limit the number of times the pistol can be used.

But worst of all, I have no money.

There is no bank card (even if there is no use), and no currency, the problem of food and accommodation is relatively easy to solve in my opinion-I am going to walk around this place and find a bridge that looks the most comfortable for the night.But to survive here, you still have to find a job and earn the money to go to Pengo Lie's headquarters first—since it was Pengo Lie's ring that brought me here, then the Pengo Lie family should have way?

Sadly, I don't have ID, I'm not an adult, and I can't find a regular job at all.

Sure enough, I should go back to my old profession first...

Let's kill.

After all, professional killers are in short supply no matter what time of day it is.There are so many customers who want to kill people to solve the problem, and the half-baked people die very quickly. The unbalanced supply and demand relationship has made this industry somewhat deformed. As a professional killer with little reputation before, my asking price is very low , and have to spend a lot of money to maintain weapons, life has always been embarrassing.

After finally receiving a big business to assassinate Pengelie's tenth generation Mesawada Tsunayoshi, there was no progress.

Ashamed to say, I haven't killed anyone for a long time.

Just as I was thinking about these things with my head down, I was suddenly bumped on the shoulder.

"Hey! Walk carefully, you idiot!!"

The person who bumped into me was a tall Italian male with a thick southern Italian accent.His hair was curly, covering his eyes, and he had a muscular figure. His sleeves of his jacket had been rolled up a lot, revealing his muscular arms, and the hideous scars and tattoos on them.

I took half a step back and said politely, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Damn, I really don't have eyes—"

He turned a deaf ear to my apology and raised his arms across my face while cursing, trying to push me away.

I immediately grabbed his wrist, raised my eyes to look at him, and continued to say: "But can you please give me back the things, sir."

His face changed suddenly: "Fuck, what do you mean?!"

I paused, and reminded him again out of good intentions: "If you still want this arm, please return it to me, sir."

He seemed to be irritated by me, and he clenched his other hand and punched me on the right side of the face.Of course, this kind of gangster-like move does not pose any threat to me. I raised my hand to split his fist, and at the same time twisted his left hand, just like gently twisting a small screw. It took no effort, but there was a slight sound from the joints of his left arm—his left hand was dislocated.

His body also tilted to follow the position of the arm, trying to relieve the pain.But he still has no intention of returning the things to me.

"Give it back to me, please," I repeated patiently.If possible, I really don't want to break his left hand. After all, I hurt someone on the first day I just came here, and I haven't made any money yet. It's not worth it.After careful calculation, I was at a loss.

"You bitch—"

He swung his fist again and slammed into my face.I turned my head and dodged it, and then raised my leg and kicked him in the waist, and he vomited blood in an instant—he wouldn’t be able to continue swearing, and he could be a little cleaner—while he bent over I punched him on the left forearm when he was vomiting blood in his waist. He was very muscular, but in my opinion it was useless except to frighten people.His left hand is still broken.

His body slumped down like a small mound that had encountered a landslide, and his waist was arched. His hand that had been hidden in the coat seemed to pull out something from it.

Almost at the same time, several gunshots sounded one after another, and the bullets shot out quickly, brushed my cheeks and shoulders, and hit the ground.

I paused, then lowered my head and lowered my eyes, and glanced at my left leg—I was shot in the left leg, and the blood from the wound permeated my skirt and stockings, and the warm blood flowed toward my knees, The calves and ankles flow away.My entire left leg was red with blood. It looked miserable, but it was not serious. It was just that the gunshot wound in this position made it difficult for me to move.

shot?In this kind of place?Naples shouldn't be a city where people can be shot casually...

This is not a prosperous commercial street. A few scattered passers-by on the road looked this way in surprise, but they were not panicked by the sudden gunshots. Unethical Behavior" emoji.

I:"……"

Big cities are no different.

The Italian man ignored me, shot at me with a pistol, and ran forward dragging his injured arm.

"Deserve it! Idiot, go to hell!!"

He ran towards the front corner quickly, and shot back from time to time, perhaps because he successfully shot me and gave him a stimulant, he even ignored the pain in his left hand and waist and ran fast.In the end, he shot and wounded a man riding a motorcycle, grabbed the motorcycle and rode on it himself, and fled.

Things became troublesome, I frowned, and reflected on myself angrily, I should have kicked his knee just now.

At this time, a white van drove over slowly and stopped beside me.

Because of the gunshot just now, the people nearby were either stunned in place, or they were avoiding and leaving in fear. The white van that suddenly appeared at this time seemed a bit suspicious.

I turned my head and looked at the van parked next to me. The window of the van slowly rolled down as if responding to my gaze, revealing the empty passenger seat and the driver in the driver's seat.

The driver was a black-haired, green-eyed teenager...or boy, about my age.He should be of mixed race. His young face is delicate and handsome, but his brows are very deep. At this moment, his emerald green eyes are looking at me from a distance. His gaze is very calm, as if he did not hear the gunshot just now. Also didn't see the gunshot wound on my left leg.

"Need help?" he said to me. "I think you need to catch up with the man in front."

I couldn't help looking at this boy sitting in the driver's seat with a look of kindness. Although he didn't have a driver's license, I really felt the kindness.So, I said to him gratefully: "Thank you..."

He compared a number with his clean and slender fingers, and took the opportunity to raise the price: "1 lire."

I:"……"

"That man has a gun in his hand, and I will take a certain risk if I chase after him," he continued to say to me, "You'd better decide quickly, that man has already gone away on a motorcycle, if it is later, I'm not sure I can catch up. 1 lire is already very cheap, do you want to get in the car?"

Me: "...Yes. Thank you."

Then, I opened the door and sat in the passenger seat.

After I sat firmly, he immediately stepped on the accelerator and rushed in the direction where the Italian gangster was escaping.

The space in the car was very small, and the strong smell of blood permeated the entire car in a short while.The wound on my leg continued to bleed, and the warm, viscous fluid quickly ran down my left leg to my ankle, eventually collecting in a small, dark pool of blood at the bottom of my foot.

I looked at my wound with some embarrassment, not because the gunshot wound made my movement inconvenient, but because the blood oozing from the wound stained his van seat.This made me feel a little embarrassed.

"Can I treat the wound?" I politely asked the dark-haired Italian boy.

He nodded and added, "But I don't have medical equipment in my car."

"It's okay, I can handle it myself."

For me, injuries are commonplace, and I have mastered simple emergency treatment very well.I sat on the co-pilot seat, lowered my body weight, then raised my bleeding left leg, and carefully took off the white stocking on my left leg. For a moment, I still felt a needle-like pain.

The stocking had been soaked with blood and was as heavy as a towel just out of the water.I carefully inspected the gunshot wound on my left leg. The bullet had penetrated into it, but it was inconvenient to take it out at this time. I can only talk about it later. Stopping the bleeding is important now.

Thinking of this, I raised my right leg with the same movement, took off the stocking that wrapped my right leg, and then used it as a crude bandage, and skillfully wrapped this clean stocking around it. The wound on my left leg barely stopped the bleeding.

At this time, I noticed that the black-haired boy had been looking at me, his emerald eyes seemed to have seen something strange, and there was a bit of surprise in his pupils.

I followed his gaze and glanced at myself, only to notice that because of the treatment of the wound just now, my short skirt was lifted up, and the corners of the skirt were all piled up randomly.

"Can you please stop looking at my underwear?" I tidied up the corners of my skirt and said to him politely.

The black-haired boy: "..."

"...No, that's not what I'm looking at." He immediately retracted his gaze and focused all his attention on the road in front of him.

I blinked my eyes, and said politely: "If you want to see it, it's not impossible, 1 lire..."

His expression was a little indifferent: "Only this can't do it."

I:"……"

While holding the steering wheel, he opened his mouth to try to explain. At this moment, the van's tire seemed to have run over a small stone, and the body shook violently.He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and continued, "I just saw you had two guns hidden on your body, and a short knife."

"..." He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was still very calm, but I was keenly aware of the subtle changes in it, "Are you a Mafia?"

The author has something to say: Who is Hibari Kyouya? I don’t know him, and I only have Giorno in my eyes! ! !

Furry Feng commented on the murder scene_(:з」∠)_

At this time, Fluffy has no stand-in ability, no donuts, and no open chest (

Qinmei, who came to Italy on the first day: was robbed, shot, and was ripped off by the black car driver Rongrong

Such is the cruelty of the big city (hey

As the first Italian group to appear on the stage, Furry is full of the feeling of a black car driver that "I will come out to earn a fare money and I will leave if there is nothing to do".

...Wait, what about boymeetsgirl's sense of fate? !

By the way, can Dazai’s whore article be healthy? TvT is so hungry