When Chaoying meets Little Siren

Bernard took a fancy to the piece of fat at a glance.

The fat is spread on the sofa about ten meters away from him, his eyes are slack, and his exposed arms are covered with bruises. How many people can see that he has a handsome face (or a men's watch worth 20 US dollars on his wrist?) For the sake of it, she twisted gracefully and wanted to take him home by the way, drain the oil or some other things, and the fat meat would kiss them frankly, and coax them into submission even if they were insane.

He might not be sober enough, though.Bernard saw his empty wrist.The blond one is obviously a novice, the technique is too obvious, but this level is enough to deal with a junkie who is as soft as a puddle, and he can almost rot right there.

He should have intervened earlier. For example, now, when he puts down that glass of drink, the bartender won't ask for his money. The bartender knows him, and he sits next to that piece of fat meat. Fat meat glances at him lazily: "Ah." "I'm not a fucking fag," he said.

After a while, he added: "...you are not my type."

His voice has a thick accent that can't be concealed in a trance, and he is a native of Gotham. Few Gotham people dare to open themselves up in this kind of place.Unless he didn't even think about going back from here.

Bernard laughed, partly at the bastard's lunacy, and partly because he was right: "There's a blond who stole your watch, idiot."

"Don't fucking mess with me." The fat glanced at him sullenly, but subconsciously glanced at the empty wrist, and the voice gurgled from his throat.If his eyes were not out of focus, it should be more convincing.

"You don't care about that." Bernard said indifferently, seeing the fat meat still savoring the aftertaste, he lowered his voice, and asked as if casually: "Do you want something more powerful?"

He glanced at the empty syringes on the sofa, there were already three.According to the concentration of the goods that usually circulate in Gotham, these few are deadly enough, but judging from his behavior, this has not even fully satisfied the other party's desire.This kind of person will always pursue more excitement, never ending, until he dies on the water mixed with these small powders.

The fat glanced at him, his pupils were much clearer, and because of this, he showed a kind of unreasonable anger and boredom, those things failed to conquer and boil in his veins to the point where he was satisfied, leaving endless Pain and hunger.

"Better not to disappoint me," he warned in a low voice.Such people are not afraid of death at all, they are only afraid that they will not die where they deserve to die.There must be a sea of ​​hallucinogens in their paradise.

Bernard even kindly gave him a hand. The fat world was obviously still turned upside down, and the things in his dreams came to him one after another. He shook his head vigorously but couldn't get rid of those angels and devils. His legs were so weak that he could hardly stand up. , Several times he leaned on the wall as if to vomit, Bernard almost dragged him to the usual trading place, he had a fixed exchange in this area, and put some "things".In order to hook the fat.

This one was the fattest he had ever caught.

He thought so until he was crushed to the ground by a huge force when he turned around.

The fat was firmly pressed against him, the silent approach and swift exertion did not give him time to react, before he realized the concrete floor had broken two of his teeth, he was out of control He yelled, "Who the fuck are you!"

"Who's going to ask the question?" The guy pretending to be fat, fuck, he's a guy—Bernard thought wildly, maybe not, this thing offended a lot of people in Gotham, maybe it was the other two A plate's subordinate, but the other party clearly told him that he had already communicated! ——

"Who gave it to you?" the guy asked, grabbing his hair, and he was forced to look up, wheezing and breathing heavily, and a ho-ho frightened sound came out of his throat: "I don't know! I swear I Damn I really don't know!"

The voice of the note became dangerous: "Do you want to know now, or when you have only ten seconds left to bleed dry?"

Something hard pressed against his back, his calf was shaking violently, and his dark shirt was wet.

"No! I really don't know! He has no face! I don't know if he has a face!" Before he could react, Bernard had yelled, but he was completely gibberish.

"It seems that we have to use some methods to help you recall." The guy sighed pretendingly, and tapped his spine a little.

A shot went off.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhly bite into his leg—

"Again, please?" the fuckin' note asked rather politely.

"Penguin Two-Face Clown Clown Starscream 72rd St. Basement [-] Fuck whoever I don't know I really don't—" he screamed, followed by a hysterical rant.

He blurted out almost the most offensive words in Gotham. Jason is used to these words. He has interrogated many people, and this person's swearing is not even the most powerful among the people he has interrogated. creative.

These are not the point.

The point is that he really doesn't know anything.

This is totally unreasonable.

He came to investigate a batch of new drugs flowing into Gotham. This drug is extremely strong, can cause hallucinations for a long time and the effect will not weaken over time, but relatively, it will cause greater damage to the body.There are more and more poisonous insects lying down on the street, their organs are pitch black, and this level should be the result of injecting a lethal dose of drugs in a short period of time, so either Gotham has a large number of people who have been dating recently. Looking for death, or the damage to the body of this new type of drug has exceeded expectations.

Another problem is its price. The price of this drug is even a little lower than others. This kind of grandiose provocation is extremely arrogant. No matter who is behind the scenes, the purpose is obviously not limited to making huge profits from this thing.Someone wants to use this to disrupt the already relatively stable situation in Gotham.This is a bad idea that no one with a brain would want to touch, but it is also the most brutal way to join this vanity fair.

It stands to reason that he is already the person with the highest authority to transfer goods into Gotham. It makes no sense that even he has no way to contact the person who takes the goods.He didn't step on this place for more than ten days to hear how ugly he cried.

There was nothing more to ask in his mouth, Jason simply knocked him unconscious on the floor, and called the police, the Gotham Police Department would take care of this stuff.They can only deal with this kind of stuff.

There must be something else they missed.

"... Starscream." Jason murmured.

He suddenly thought of something and lifted the man's hair. There was a pinhole behind his thick neck.

"Fuck," Jason said.

Starscream.

An intelligence organization that only started operating in Gotham in the last three years has extremely powerful penetration capabilities. They have taken over several cases related to Starscream, but one-third of the clues stopped abruptly, and those Cases all have a characteristic, the interruption of clues must be a complete fault.

When they say faults, they mean hollow-out layers without any starting point at all.

Such faults generally have one thing in common: a needle's eye in the neck.

They thought it was a coincidence when they met for the first time, and they only started to pay attention to it the second time, but no matter what it was, drugs or drugs, they had already been metabolized by the human body, and there was no abnormality in the blood tests.

But this time the progress was considered a success. An address was dug out of his mouth. Although he didn't know if this address was something he would drive crazy with nonsense, it was still a starting point.Always try, sometimes people's subconsciousness and desire to survive will give people a little surprise.

Estimating the time, the one who was supposed to come would come to clear the scene in about 10 minutes, so Jason still drew a tube of blood from the man.He is a little hungry now, and injecting nutrient solution into his blood vessels cannot fill his stomach.It happened that there was a syringe left in his pocket, so he took it out and took it apart and poured it into his mouth.As soon as the liquid entered his mouth, he wrinkled his entire face in disbelief: "Strawberry? Seriously?"

The basement of 72 Third Street.

This place has obviously been abandoned for a long time, the stairwell is spray-painted and scratched, and he was hit by the peeling wall skin on half of his shoulder as soon as he entered.The iron door was very rusted, and there was a very obvious musty smell when entering the stairway. Jason had to open the iron door carefully so as not to pull the whole door down when he passed by.

The basement has a low ceiling, making it a bit cramped to dodge if something surprises you.He had to stoop a little to tuck himself in.The harsh, annoying sound of flies is usually not accompanied by anything good.When he was holding on to the wall, his fingers with fingerless gloves were slightly resisted, and the thin thread broke silently. The touch was like spider silk.He wouldn't be surprised if there were more spiders in this damp basement.

As soon as he entered, a disgusting and rotten smell instantly filled his nostrils.

He was familiar with that smell.

Jason covered his nose and turned on the flashlight.

The sudden glare made his eyes narrow, and he opened them after he got used to the brightness.

In front of him is a decomposed corpse, brown hair, male, medium build, almost half of his skin is occupied by mosquitoes and flies, and a large area of ​​skin has rotted.And on the piece of skin near his collarbone, there was an incomplete, dark red spider mark that was particularly eye-catching.

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The author has something to say:

I'm really afraid that this chapter will be blocked qaq

I always skip the plot when I read novels, because it feels so troublesome and I don’t want to use my brain.As a result, I don't know how to write plots at all.

weep.