Madness ecstasy

Two bullets hit the shaved guy's foot and elbow respectively, splashing two spots of blood.

He twisted his arm and flipped it casually - with a crisp sound - the crew-cut boy's wrist bent to 90 degrees, and the bone stump pushed up the cuff of his suit.

The security guard straightened his right arm and lightly hit the crew cut boy's Adam's apple with the butt of the gun, blocking all the screams and cries of pain that he had not yet uttered.

Then he grabbed the miniature pistol from the crew cut guy's sleeve and threw it aside.

"I already told you I don't kill for free, so why are you trying to take advantage of me? Come on, I'll need your help later--oh my god!"

hum!

As he spoke, he suddenly lowered his head: an arc of shadow passed across the brim of his fisherman's hat, cutting off a piece of it.

Suddenly, the sun, which made my head hurt, poured into the car--

The top of the carriage was cut open, and the cut was smooth; it slid down silently and hit the ground with a "bang".

This Toyota Hiace suddenly turned into a "convertible"; there was no longer any shelter above the head.

The [security guard] raised his head again and saw the newborn baby with its mouth open in confusion, its crayon-drawn pupils rolling around.

A long red rope stretched out of the mouth--

Extending from its mouth was a powerful, slender, and bulging bundle of muscle; at the end of the bundle of muscle was the handle of an elegant Han sword - grayish-white in color, with a cold gleam at the edge:

Just now, it was this Han sword that swung out in a circular motion, splitting the upper half of the carriage.

This is like the flying sword technique described in fairy tales, but it looks crude and weird.

-

hum!

The Han sword and the long rope behind it twisted into shadows again, but the [Security Guard] disappeared from the car window first:

The blade pierced through the car window, pierced the concrete wall, scraped off a pile of plaster, and then retracted.

In the blink of an eye, the [security guard] crawled under the car and climbed in through the window on the other side, hiding behind the fat man.

The obese man's huge figure completely covered the [security guard]——

Squeak:

The meat rope and the long sword stopped in mid-air, twisting into an arc and swaying from side to side like a living snake. It seemed to be concerned about the fat man's safety, just hanging in the air cautiously.

The confrontation lasted only a moment:

The [security guard] kneeled with his left leg muscles bulging, pushing his entire body to the right and sliding out from behind the obese man.

His already short body bent down even lower, appearing even shorter than a newborn baby without legs, supported on the ground.

hum!

Another sound:

A long scar emerged from the center of the van. The van was like a broken biscuit, split right in the middle:

The flying sword that emerged from the newborn's mouth followed the [Security Guard] like a shadow; its sharpness was unmatched, splitting the equipment into scattered scrap metal and whittling the Toyota Hiace into a pile of iron bars bit by bit.

The [security guard] grabbed the car door handle with his left hand and pulled it hard; his whole body spun on the ground like a roller skater, avoiding the path of the long sword.

With his left hand, he pulled out a dagger from his boot, held it in his reverse hand, and gently cut the paper [umbilical cord]:

click!

The long, narrow Han sword rested right beside his neck, its sharp edge slicing blood from the [security guard]—if it had gone deeper, it might have severed the carotid artery.

then

The Han sword began to shrink, like a piece of paper that had been left for too long and dried out; the newborn also became curled up and twisted.

The red color around it faded, and the cement gray soaked into its entire body again.

Like a deflated balloon: when the [security guard] blinked again, the newborn had shrunk into a pile of shredded paper; a gentle blow of hot wind scattered it away.

The [security guard] stood up and jumped around in the roofless car:

"The flaw is so obvious! This umbilical cord is hanging right here, so conspicuous? They're afraid others won't come and cut it off. It's really made of paper. I can only give it a one or two points for durability."

After a quick fight, the entire van was torn to pieces.

call.

The [security guard] scratched his nose with the handle of his dagger and exhaled:

"Hmm—but the lethality is still good. It feels okay."

"It's just that you two don't coordinate well. And in a small space like a van, why are you doing all the flamethrowing and cutting stuff?"

He stuck out his tongue and rolled it around:

"It would be better to just use your tongue to roll the person over like a frog and then shoot him dead."

No one answered [the security guard]. The guy with the buzz cut rolled around in the driver's seat, clutching his broken and shot arm; a strange gurgling sound came from his throat.

He could only shrug and turn to the fat man:

"Hey, can you give birth again now?"

The obese man looked at his companion in the driver's seat, shook his head, and wiped the sweat from his philtrum with his elbow.

The [security guard] rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a crumpled photo:

"I just looked it up—you can change a child's abilities by describing them, right? See if you can change your child into something like this?"

"Yeah, like a Superman who can't fly and whose eyes can't shoot lasers. Can you recreate that?"

Without the roof, the scorching sunlight poured down directly, reflecting off the photos.

But it's still clear - in the center of the photo is a teenager wearing a bright yellow raincoat. He's squeezed in among a group of his peers in school uniforms, and the raincoat makes him stand out.

The obese man shook his head again, wiping the sweat from his neck; the fat on his double chin trembled. He seemed to have no intention of resisting:

".I don't think so. I don't know what the restrictions are, but someone as powerful as Superman probably can't do it."

[Security guard] Nodding his nose. His eyes are covered by sunglasses, making it difficult to judge his emotions:

"Really? Maybe it's because you're not close enough to him. What about this? Can you try to align your image with this person? That should be possible, right?"

He rummaged around, pulled out another one, and thrust it in front of the fat man's face:

This time it was a girl in school uniform with a large burn scar on her cheek.

I was editing until midnight, and was about to say, "Oops! Too tired to write anymore, let's just go home and sleep!" But just as I was about to turn off the computer, the KO Broly on top of my workbench suddenly fell down with a creaking sound. The Super Saiyan's hair was so spiky, his head was like a Morning Star hammer, and it gouged several bloody gashes on the back of my hand. I don't know who cursed me, but it scared me so much that I ended up squeezing in a chapter. Isn't that ridiculous?

(3) Excessive salivation

Oops! I was busy earlier and was planning to write a post while watching UFC 317, but when I came to, I was already asleep with my eyes rolled back and drool all over my neck and into my clothes. I'm so pissed!

I'm too tired recently so I'll take a rest today.

Jade photo.

I also recommend a horror movie "Apology to the Iinuma Family"!

Chapter 125 Pre-job training

The fat man's face showed mischief, embarrassment, uneasiness, and even more confusion:

"The baby I give birth to—well, I can't really control what its face will look like. It'll basically be the same face you just saw: like a mall mannequin, probably not very human."

The [security guard] scratched his nose in disappointment and took the photo back. The remains of the newborn in the carriage—those scraps of paper—had been completely blown away by the hot wind and scattered to every corner of the alley.

"It's all right, it's all right: we'll think of a way, there's always a solution."

His tone wasn't like he was facing an enemy, but rather a less capable colleague on the team:

"Oh, get your buddy up; take that standard injection you have and give him a shot. He won't die, but you can't just leave him like this."

As the [security guard] spoke, he unbuttoned and took off his gray-blue security short-sleeved shirt. He rolled it up into a ball, wiped the blood from his palms and neck, and stuffed the bulging shirt into his back pocket.

[Security Guard]'s torso is covered in scars, some raised and some sunken, coiled around him like little worms; he looks like a star in an action movie with overly exaggerated makeup.

The tense atmosphere disappeared, like an air conditioner that stopped working and dissipated in the summer.

The community is still quiet.

The battle ahead involved gunfire, fire, and even swords; if it weren't for the wrecked Toyota Hiace, passersby would have thought a circus had just toured this alley.

However, there was not a single passerby or bystander, and the dump trucks on the road did not slow down.

The obese man stood up tremblingly, walked over the various equipment that had been cut into pieces; he pulled up the crew cut guy who was twisting and turning in the driver's seat, and took out a needleless syringe from his inner pocket.

Just as he entered, the [security guard] suddenly patted the backrest of the driver's seat:

"Hey guys, can you still walk? Is that guy with the crew cut recovering? Just come and help me out. I want to use that old guy across the street to test something."

"Hey—come on, after you get your shot, head this way. My car is parked over there."

-

"Aloha'oe~~ until we meet again"

The [security guard] walked in front, humming a little tune; the guy with a crew cut and the fat man followed behind.

He barely even turned his head, seemingly not caring about these two temporary captives at all.

Two Asia-Europe Postal field workers who were originally acting as observers - none of them escaped; one began to breathe heavily after taking a few steps, and the other staggered and muttered to himself, and it was hard to tell how much consciousness he had.

The [security guard's] car was parked inside the railway dormitory. The guard booth was empty, and no one knew where the real "security guard" had gone.

It was also a van—a Nissan Wanda—parked carelessly at the door, looking crooked.

"Oh! This one, this one."

The [security guard] patted the hot iron, opened the car door, pulled a brightly colored floral shirt from the driver's seat, put it on, and then opened the trunk--

A sweltering stench filled my nostrils, mostly the smell of dried sweat, dampness, and a hint of urine.

There were six or seven people sitting or lying down inside; both men and women—

Their clothes were disheveled but clean, but they were all drenched in sweat. Fear accumulated in their eyes, and their bodies trembled with it.

The wrists and ankles were bound together with bright white plastic ties; these plastic handcuffs dug deep into the flesh and cut blood.

The fat man suddenly had an idea: This might be one of the reasons why this community is so quiet.

But neither the fat man nor the guy with the buzz cut asked any questions—they wished they could zip their mouths shut.

Although he was no longer in his security uniform, the [security guard] was even more talkative than before:

"Sorry to bother you two again, buddy. The employer this time isn't very helpful. The mission environment is so complicated, and they're not cooperating with me at all."

"Normally I'd have a few assistants to help me out, but assistants are paid well these days. I was thinking, why not take on some apprentices? You know, like interns?"

"If I need to assign some simple tasks in the future, I can let them do it themselves. All I need to do is give me 30 percent of the reward. Will you accept it?"

"It's hard to say. Young people these days are so materialistic. You guys in big companies, how could you possibly understand the hardships of the self-employed?"

The buzz cut guy mumbled a few words to himself, and the obese man quickly took over. He wiped the cold sweat from his hands on his coat and put on a flattering smile:

"Indeed, you sound like you have a hard time. Well, I still have a quota for internal referrals—"

"Would you consider joining our company? This, um, this gentleman."

The [security guard] waved his hand and scoffed. His face wrinkled up as if he had seen something disgusting.

"No, no, I'm just complaining. The atmosphere at places like Asia-Europe Post is far from pure. I do this job primarily because I love it; the pay is secondary."

"When choosing a career, interest is very important; and the work environment must be compatible with that interest."

"Look: killing people is fun; making money is great; helping others solve their problems is great. Put together, isn't this—"

Ooooh!

A sudden whine interrupted the [security guard]'s words.

The "hostages" in the carriage had their mouths stuffed with balls of old newspapers, and towels were tied deep into their mouths, causing the corners of their mouths to crack.

Somehow, the uncle closest to the outside suddenly started howling; the sheep-like cry squeezed out of his throat, sounding like a filial son in front of a mourning hall.

The [security guard] suddenly approached, grabbed one of the man's fingers, and gently twisted it. With a crackling sound, the index finger folded back like a ruler, pressing against the back of the hand.

"Go ahead and shout, and stop when you're tired."