What is it like to study at Midtown High School?

After waiting until midnight, Mr. C did not come, and Mr. T had to make some terrible conjectures—for example, Mr. C had turned into a stiff corpse, which made sticky sweat flow down the back of the fat Mr. T. .

A few days ago, Mr. T found a piece of paper in his mailbox that seemed to be hastily torn from a notepad. The messy handwriting and jagged cuts all conveyed an uneasy emotion, and the most important thing was the content.

By the way, the content...

Mr. T couldn't help but got up and checked the door, window and ventilation window on one side, but the messy handwriting was still lingering in front of his eyes. They were words that seemed meaningless, but when combined, they looked like Mr. T. A horrific message that such a person could read.

Why didn't Mr. C come?Isn't the agreed date he left in the note today? Mr. T sat back on the sofa again, only the dark shadows of some furniture lurking in the unlit living room, which made Mr. T a little flustered.

But he didn't dare to turn on the light, so he could only cover his fat face and secretly speculate on the message from Mr. C—is it really what he thought it meant?He hadn't been to a party like that in years, since Molly found out...

"How can you? How can you?!" The daughter couldn't understand her father's special interest at all. She packed the suitcase angrily, stood at the door and blamed coldly, "They are all children! —— younger than me Child? God, how can you be my father!"

What was he doing?Oh, just as it is now, sitting on the couch in silence.

Molly felt deep despair for her father. She lowered the brim of her hat angrily, as if she didn't want to see him again, and then said in a low voice: "I'm going to find my mother." Then...then what?

Mr. T did not stop his daughter. In fact, perhaps deep down in his heart, he was willing for his daughter to live with his divorced wife for many years. At least he would not have to face her accusing eyes anymore, but... Mr. T closed his eyes. I failed to see how the distraught Molly hurriedly dragged her suitcase across the avenue, how she crossed the road regardless, and finally... how she was hit by a truck that couldn't brake in time, and the beautiful flax Black hair was scattered on the concrete floor, and blood flowed from behind the ears.

After that, Mr. T also participated in two "parties", but Molly's indifferent and reproachful eyes before her death always overlapped with those girls' helpless eyes, which made him somewhat restrained in the "parties". Companions There are some complaints about him, starting with Mr. M - they are used to using code names in parties, so he doesn't know what Mr. M's name is, but he seems to be a very powerful person (so what?) - M While stuffing toys into the child's body, the husband laughed at him: T, I think you can't keep up with our rhythm, do you need some medicine to cheer you up?

Mr. T is slowly withdrawing from the "party", so why is C still sending such a note?

beware!Party revealed!revenge! Meet on the evening of the 23rd.

"No...I've already quit..." Mr. T stared at the dim light coming through the window through his fingers, "Ah, Molly..."

Unbeknownst to Mr. T, the red-haired female agent was staring vigilantly at his window.

And the man with a mysterious smile is also lurking in the shadows, silently watching his window.

Earlier that day, Spider-Man, Black Widow, and Iron Man were exchanging information obtained by JIARVIS at the Avengers Building.

"They call it a 'party'." Iron Man sneered. "It's like sharing a cake. Someone will regularly gather people with the same hobbies to sexually abuse the children they bought, and then make huge profits based on it."

Most of the time that kid died after the party like a sacrificial lamb.

Both Peter and the Black Widow are silent. The dark truths exposed by the murders are more terrifying than ordinary sexual abuse.

Iron Man continued to narrate: "According to JAR's statistics, the four known deceased once participated in a party together, and the fourth deceased C was the organizer—this can explain why he first realized that someone was in the party. Pedophile hunting, only the organizers have the potential to know who was at the party."

"Who is the dead?" Peter stared at Stark, "What's the name of the dead child?"

Iron Man shook his head: "Peter, as I guessed, most of the children come from orphanages, have no relatives, and don't have many friends. And these scum—call them goods." Stark turned his head and looked at The female agent said, "Natasha, this case must be handled by the underground avengers. I can't expose JARVIS yet." A more sensitive name.

Natasha nodded understandingly: "Go all out." Then she took the chip handed over by Stark. There are hundreds of names in it, all of whom are permanent residents of this forum.

"Fine." Stark called up the screen, "Natasha, I need you to keep an eye on the fifth goddamn man, Mr. T, he hasn't logged into the forum for two years, but I think the fairy tale poet has I learned his identity from the sponsor."

"What about me?" Peter felt he shouldn't be left out of the action.

Stark smiled: "Yes, you, Peter, I want you to assist Natasha in arresting the fairy tale poet and ensure the safety of the two of you. We are still not sure how the poet killed the first four people , but I think you'd better be quick and don't give him a chance to attack you."

Mr. T woke up from the memory, feeling that Mr. C should not come—whether he is still alive or not—so he breathed a long sigh of relief, not because he felt relieved, but since the crisis has not yet come—maybe never come? Mr. T moved slowly towards the bedroom.

"Agent Romanov, what happened to the target?" Peter changed into a black spider uniform and lay on the roof of Mr. T's house, so he couldn't see what was going on inside.

"Moving to the bedroom." Natasha replied simply, "Peter, climb up to the wall to the west of him."

"Uh..." Spider-Man hesitated.

"Go, I can protect myself." Ke Luo, who was lying next to Peter, patted him on the shoulder. There was no fear or tension in his gray-blue eyes. In fact, Peter felt that Ke Luo was filled with stability under the night Peaceful breath.

He is actually very powerful.Peter suddenly remembered Ke Luo's performance in those courses at the X Academy. He and Kuaiyin were almost invincible.So why do I feel that Ke Luo needs my own protection?Because of first impressions?No... because of past impressions...

"Peter?" Natasha and Ke Luo called Peter's name suspiciously at the same time.

"Uh... ok, I'll go right away." Peter shook his head, put aside his messy distractions, kissed Ke Luo's left cheek with his head, and crawled silently to the west.

Teenagers... Natasha, who was lurking opposite, complained silently.

It's already winter in New York. Although it hasn't snowed yet, there is still a thin layer of frost floating under the night sky. Ke Luo, who gradually calmed down the heat on his face, tightened his coat, still feeling a bit cold.Speaking of which, he has been a little puzzled since before. Is it really not cold to wear a tights like Peter all year round-at most with a bottom inside?And that Robin who just patrolled the night wearing green scale shorts?Or is it that the will of the superheroes is already resistant to low temperatures?

Hmm... It seems that I really don't have the resolution to be a hero... Ke Luo made a small confession, then picked up the binoculars left by Peter and observed the surroundings of this building for any suspicious persons.

Peter climbed to the west side of Mr. T's house, and found that this was the bedroom. The curtains were drawn tightly, and Mr. T probably sensed the approaching crisis. Peter saw the figure on the bed through the gap in the curtain—— Live well.

Peter felt a complicated emotion—he knew that Mr. T was also a despicable child abuser and needed to be punished. If he discovered the crimes of Mr. T and others before the "fairy tale poet", he might be thrown into prison.

But now I was protecting him from being killed by a poor Avenger.

There is no doubt that the fairy tale poet is avenging those children in an extremely decisive way.

The black spider was quietly lurking under the eaves, and the sleeping Mr. T was unaware of all this, and of course, he was also unaware of the figure beside the bed.

A mysterious smile rose in the night, and the fairy tale poet gently woke up Mr. T. Mr. T opened his eyes blankly, and felt great fear the moment he saw the other party. Quietly pushing it back into his chest, Mr. T opened his mouth soundlessly, with a cough-like sound blocked in his throat.

The fairy tale poet is still smiling. He is dressed in black and sits quietly on the bedside of Mr. T, like a god of death harvesting life. He is holding a small photo in his hand. After seeing the photo, Mr. T is still confused for a moment, which makes him The poet's smile deepened, and the corners of his mouth almost reached his ears.

In his panic, Mr. T suddenly remembered a look—a look of despair and helplessness, overlapping with Molly's indifference and accusation before she died.

Yes, he finally remembered.

The fairy tale poet was satisfied. He looked at Mr. T's eyes from surprise to panic to despair, and finally to silence.

The fifth person still died of a cerebral blood vessel burst. This is a problem that the police, Avengers, and SHIELD will have to face tomorrow.

But now, the fairy tale poet walked to the window without a sound, gently opened the window, looked out of the window with his head, then closed the window, and slowly left the room.

It's like it's never been here.

Ke Luo put down the binoculars anxiously. He didn't find anyone suspicious. In fact, he didn't find anyone approaching this building at all. However, some kind of uneasiness lurking under the silence was like an undercurrent, which made him want to urgently Gotta get in touch with Peter or Natasha.

The moment he picked up the communicator, light footsteps came to the roof.

"Peter?" Ke Luo thought it was Peter who had returned, but when he looked back, there was no one there, only scattered lights in the distance and the dark night nearby.

Ke Luo closed his mouth, pinched the communicator, and tapped his fingertips uneasily, while slowly looking around the empty rooftop.

"Can you see me?" A hoarse and weird voice came from an empty direction, suddenly approaching and far away, which shocked Ke Luo, but he stood up quickly and calmly, distinguishing the source of the voice .

"I appeared out of thin air..." The voice drifted in the night, "I appeared out of thin air again... Guess who I am?"

A messy timeline has emerged from Ke Luo's fingertips, and at the same time, many fragmentary images appear in turn in his mind - white stones, March, ring valley... The truth that kept attracting his attention finally emerged from the bottom of the water. float.

Ke Luo also laughed. The white-haired boy smiled in the night and on the tall buildings, as if the whole city had been left behind by him. Ke Luo calmly strengthened his mental strength. Under the pressure, the man in clothes gradually revealed his true body.

"I know who you are, the fairy tale poet, the Cheshire cat, Carol..." Ke Luo looked at the fairy tale poet calmly, "Or, Mr. Dodgson?"

The author has something to say:

I finished my overview of literary criticism today, and I would recommend a book to my friends, "Story Morphology" by Russian writer Propp. The book sorted out more than [-] narrative modes based on hundreds of stories, which can basically be used Analysis of all story models has had a great impact on narratological criticism.Of course, we can also use it to analyze common novel routines haha~

Personally, I am a little obsessed with the image of the library. I always feel that the vast and boundless sea of ​​books is very sacred. The more I learn, the more interesting knowledge is waiting for us to study and discover. So many books are waiting. I am forced to read, but I am unable to extricate myself from the mediocre life, really... Hey!