deformed bone

At five o'clock in the morning, Fogg, Virgil, and other people in his body are happily walking in the alleys of the slums full of sewage. This is a time when even homeless people, drunks and punks have already fallen asleep , Outside the bar, the veteran hunters dragged the "dead fish" out of the gate, and then threw those young girls into the second-hand car like dock workers throwing goods. Fogg pushed his glasses, He walked quickly past them in the shadow of the wall.

No one noticed him except a feral cat who was distracted into courtship.

[You look very happy.Don't tell me that's enough for you, Fogg. 】

Virgili said sinisterly in his head, with an air of malice, Fogg twitched the corner of his mouth lightly.

[Don't confuse me with you. 】

he said in a low voice.

[Come on, to a certain extent, I am you, and you are me, there is no difference between us.Oh... no, there is indeed a difference. After all, I won't feel dizzy when I'm close to him and my blood pressure will rise to a certain degree. Your heartbeat even caused us a certain burden at the time, but the funniest thing is You didn't even dare to touch him until the end because you knew that if you did you would be as uncontrollable as I was. 】

【You're really noisy, Virgili. 】

[Oh, forget it, maybe I shouldn't laugh at you so harshly, you must know that you are still a damned virgin after all, why don't you say that the Metropolitan Museum doesn't collect you as a collection?After all, in this day and age, virgins as old as you are very rare——]

Vigili said.

Fogg stopped in his tracks, and he looked down at a small puddle beside his feet, where he clearly saw Virgil's venomous eyes staring at him.Fogg knew that Virgili wanted to provoke him, and this was not surprising, after all, this sadist who claimed to be a liar had an almost pathological desire for monopoly on Calvin, even if he was also one of the Red Deer personalities. After such a short contact with Calvin, it would easily arouse Virgil's dissatisfaction.

[Vigily, you'd better stop doing stupid things. 】Fogg slowly opened his lips, and said word by word in that British accent that was particularly contrived for Virgili, 【Unless you want to experience the feeling of being gouged out by me with a spoon again, I think you should still Haven't forgotten the feeling of being cut off the iris and squeezed out the lens?Personally, I don't think that's a very pleasant experience, is it? 】

Fogg even smiled slightly at Virgil, and then he felt a slight sting from his left eye, which was childish revenge from the latter.But no matter what, Virgili finally calmed down.

"call……"

Fogg tilted his neck, exhaled, and then took another step.In another narrow alley, Fogg found his previous car.He opened the door and sat in, then frowned at the metallic smell in the cabin.

That's certainly not a real metallic taste.

[If I were you, I would take a good look at this time to see if the "coat" we prepared is ready to use. Before I see the angel next time, I think we should put on the "coat" well... I don't want to leave He's been too long, he's not safe, and I can feel the darkness gathering around him. 】

As Fogg spoke, he started the Rolls-Royce, and the car drove out of the alley like a ghost, and merged into the empty streets in the early morning.

[By the way, we have to change the car, this smell makes me feel a little sick. 】

He added.

Virgili chuckled twice in the back of his mind.

After a few seconds, Fogg's left eye began to blur - if anyone was in this car at this time, he would be shocked to see Fogg, or Virgil, or Red Deer... Anyway, this one has brown eyes The young man with curly hair and mint eyes began to look strange.

His left eye became bloodshot, so bloodshot that the entire white of the eye turned a shocking blood red, and the pupil began to dilate until it took up the entire iris, which would give the illusion that his pupils were completely black.After a tremor, the eyeball of his left eye began to shake, which was by no means a normal shake, in fact, his black pupil looked like a pinball bouncing randomly in his blood-red eye socket, capillaries The bursting blood stained his tears, and translucent tears flowed down his left cheek.The scene looked like something out of a third-rate horror movie, but Fogg was still calmly driving the car with his remaining normal right eye.

The Rolls-Royce drove past the 24-hour pizza shop, the dark massage shop, the Chinese restaurant, the supermarket... and then slowly turned onto the highway.

【All right! 】

Finally, he got Virgil's response in his mind, and the liar's voice sounded a little weak.

Fogg blinked, realizing that his vision had returned to normal.He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the blood off his face.

【How about it? 】he asks.

[How long do we have to get to Peach City? ] Virgili asked.

Fogg glanced at the time.

[About 10 minutes. 】

[Then we'll be just in time - the "coat" is ready. 】

Location: Peach City

39 Diamond Avenue

It was his mother who first noticed that something was wrong with Ivan Ebbetts. Mrs. Ebbetts noticed that for two full hours, the boy they locked in the basement did not make disturbing noises like his usual howling and smashing things. sound.

Mr. Ebbetts' sleep during this period was very bad - her sleep began to deteriorate after she found out that her beloved little Ivan had also been addicted to that damned drug, but after Mr. Ebbetts decided to take Ivan When locked up and detoxifying him on her own, her sleep was even worse.

They reinforced their basement and covered the walls with acoustic foam panels.While the workers were installing, Mrs. Ebbetts explained to them with a dry smile that she had a son who played rock and roll (she wasn't lying about that) and that she had had enough of the neighbors complaining - but in fact The workers didn't really care.The Ebbetts family is considered a high-quality customer. They pay quickly and are very rare. The workers complete their work quickly.A few days later, Ivan Ebbetts was tricked back home by his own mother, who was told he would get his trust fund early, which was a real surprise for a young man whose pocket money had almost been exhausted due to drug use. sounds of nature.

Who would have guessed what happened next?Ivan was cruelly betrayed, his mother put strong sleeping pills in his favorite soup, and when he woke up, he found himself firmly tied to the bed and locked in a basement .

"Honey, it's for your own good - your father is running for the directorship and at this point we really can't let people know that he has a son who takes drugs -" his mother said to him through tears.

Ivan spit at her.

At the beginning, Ivan would howl like a ghoul, but within a few days, he was completely dying.

His mother was deeply disturbed by this, but Mr. Ebbetts seemed very happy.

"Never mind, my dear, it's he's getting better, and he'll get better," said Mr. Ebbetts, grimly but confidently.

Then one night, when Mrs. Ebbetts finally realized that Ivan was quiet, they opened the basement door.

Ivan Ebbets is dead.

He bit off his tongue, and the blood dripped across half of the bed, staining the sheets and protruding ribs, his pale pupils stared at the ceiling, and the expression on his face was distorted.

Mrs. Ebbetts made a whooping sound in her throat like a broken air pump.

"Oh, no—oh, no—"

She was about to scream, but before that, a cold hand was firmly on her mouth.

"Shut up you idiot!"

Her husband let out a growl of exasperation.Mrs. Ebbets' tears wet his palms.

"Uh-uh-"

Mrs. Ebbetts yelled indistinctly under his palm, and veins came out of his face.

"Don't yell, don't provoke the police, please be quiet, or I will beat you out of shit."

The horrified eyes stared at Mrs. Ebbetts until the latter shrank and hunched up before looking away.

Finally, Mr. Ebbetts let go of his wife.

He stared angrily at the motionless corpse on the bed in the basement, the sadness in his chest was quickly covered by anger.

"No, it can't be this time, the child died at the wrong time—"

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Ebbetts raised her eyes tremblingly and looked at her husband. Although she uttered interrogative sentences, years of married life made her actually know what he was thinking, "He... ...he's your son...he's dead...oh my God...he's dead..."

At that moment a sting of shame flitted across Mr. Ebbetts' eyes, but the human emotion was soon extinguished.

He clamped his wife's shoulders tightly, forcing her to look up at him.

"I know, I'm sorry...I'm sorry honey...but it can't be this time, I can't be blowing out at this time that I have a son on drugs - that guy Willis won't let me go, As long as I show the slightest weakness, that guy has a thousand vicious ways to bring me down..."

"Woo woo woo...but...Ivan...my poor Ivan..."

"Hey, honey, listen to me, I can't lose this opportunity - even if you pity me, we will always find a way to hide it..."

"Do not--"

Mrs. Ebbetts let out a piercing scream and broke free from her husband's arms and ran out, but had barely reached the parlour when he swooped on her and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Did you fucking not understand me?!"

growled Mr. Ebbetts, banging his knees on his wife's stomach.

Mrs. Ebbetts curled up in pain.

Just like the experience of the past many years, she cried silently, and in the dim eyes of tears, she saw a tall figure printed on the porch.

It was a man with curly brown hair and mint eyes, wearing a neat suit and holding a cup of tea.

Mrs. Ebbetts didn't know how long he had been there, and she even wondered why she saw him just now...

"Hey, I actually have a better solution to your predicament."

The uninvited guest spoke to the two people on the floor.

"Who are you?!"

Mr. Ebbetts sprang to his feet, and growled at the trespasser—not so fiercely as he had been to his wife.

Fogg blinked at him, then took a sip of tea.

"Well, have you forgotten about me? I'm your son, Virgilie Ebbetts, 26 years old, an art student at the Lowe School of Art, graduating this year...hobby is playing a little rock and roll, but in order to avoid parents worrying, It has been decided not to continue."

Fogg said to the Ebbetts.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Mr. Ebbets looked at Fogg in shock, and now he was not so much frightened as he was completely confused by Fogg.

Fogg calmly put the teacup on the coffee table at hand, and he walked towards the Ebetz couple. Now, they can see his eyes more clearly.

It was a pair of blue eyes that seemed to ooze poisonous juice.

"Don't worry, you will have a good son."

Fogg stared at them and said, then snapped his fingers lightly.

"boom--"

The teacup he placed on the coffee table suddenly shattered, and the hot tea splashed onto the high-grade carpet.

"Oh my god--"

Mrs. Ebbetts exclaimed.

"Virgili? How many times have I told you to be careful--damn, this is a hand-woven Iranian rug, and you haven't found such exquisite craftsmanship since the war began!"

She shouted reproachfully at Fogg, but there was no real blame in her tone.

Mr. Ebbetts stood there for a while. He looked at his wife and then at Fogg, looking a little confused. After a while, he rubbed his temples: "Damn, Virgil, why do you always You will make such a big commotion every time you come back, you better not tell me what trouble you caused again..."

"Of course not, I'm sorry, Dad. You'd better go back and rest, I know you've been busy lately."

Fogg said to this arrogant and stupid man with a blank face.

After he had finished speaking, Mr. Ebbetts walked towards the upstairs bedroom with a robot-like dullness.

"You too, my dear mother, please go and be with your husband... before he yells at you again."

He turned to Mrs. Ebbetts, like her husband, and Mrs. Ebbetts left the drawing room quietly and submissively, calm and not at all wondering why her face was full of tears and her stomach was aching with pain. Like just got hit with a baseball bat.

"All right."

Standing in the empty living room, Fogg whispered.

His face was as white as a dead man, and cold sweat completely drenched his back.

The severe pain felt like someone was kneading his brain, and soon Fogg felt his muscles spasm. He walked slowly to the sofa and let himself lie flat on the high-grade and soft sofa.

"Let Moses come out."

he whispered.