Madness ecstasy

Ehhhhh——

The screams were indeed louder, even causing the people next to him to lose control of their bladder; the pungent smell was even stronger.

[The security guard] folded his hands over his chest, adjusted his sunglasses from time to time, and even yawned; the obese man had no choice but to wait on the side with a buzz cut.

He was right - shouting really makes people tired quickly. In less than a few minutes, the uncle who was rolling around was exhausted.

The [security guard] drew his knife and, amidst the sudden screams of fear, cut several cable ties around the ankles; then he grabbed the two hostages, one in each hand, and grasped their arms.

"Mr. Fat? Help me get one."

The [security guard] held a hostage in each hand, half lifting and half pulling, as he walked in front of the obese man; the rear door of the Nissan Wanda closed again, locking the remaining people inside.

The guy with the crew cut regained some strength, but he walked unsteadily; the fat man's other elbow was squeezing an elderly hostage, and he was shaking constantly.

This small temporary group--

No one knew the [security guard's] name, not even a code name, but no one ran away; they all followed the short, muscular man.

The fat man even held the hostage tighter to prevent him from running around on the road - he himself didn't understand why he did this.

Dump trucks rumbled by, honking their horns. Kidnappers and kidnapped were huddled together like elementary school students crossing a zebra crossing, their guards leading the way.

By the time the group reached the other side of the street, the [Plastic Immortal] had already woken up and was hiding in the shadows by the wall, lost in thought.

This old man might have been the only witness to the recent commotion—but judging from his dazed look, he had merely heard some unusual noises.

Chapter 126 Trigger Test

[Plastic Immortal] stared blankly at the small group of weirdos moving over, his hair sticky with sweat:

"Um—you guys? I'm just lying here for a while."

Before he could finish his words, the [security guard] patted the hostage on his left, then gently pushed him—it was the uncle whose finger had just been broken:

"Go touch that old man. Just touch his back, or his legs. If you do, I'll let you go."

The middle-aged hostage trembled on the spot, the soles of his shoes making a rustling sound.

"boom!"

The security guard spun the gun around but didn't fire. Instead, he let out a sudden, onomatopoeic cry, as if trying to scare a small animal:

"Go over there! Touch it!"

The Plastic Immortal seemed completely bewildered. His gaze flickered between the hostage and the gun, his nose snotting. His hands subconsciously scratched at his head, but he couldn't find any fleas.

In broad daylight at noon—an old man scavenging, a kidnapped person, and the injured; all of them were trapped in an inexplicable confusion. They were surrounded by abandoned auto repair shops, with the word "demolition" painted on the drawn iron curtains.

The trembling middle-aged man turned his head and looked at the muzzle of the gun with every step he took; then he walked up to the old man and bent down very slowly, his index finger still bent back.

Big tears fell from the middle-aged man's eyes; from his blocked mouth came a scream squeezed by his throat:

"Mmmmm."

No one could understand what he said. He stretched out his bound hands and patted the knees of the [Plastic Immortal]--

Then he withdrew his hand as if he had been electrocuted: nothing happened.

Only the old man moved his legs uneasily and doubtfully, and climbed up by holding on to the wall.

[Security] puts his hands to his mouth:

"Hey—touch it again! Put your hand on it, and keep it there longer: make sure it touches his flesh!"

Although the old man was wearing several layers of clothes, they were all torn and tattered, with large areas of skin exposed.

What the middle-aged man just touched was the thick patch on the knee of his trouser leg.

The middle-aged man stretched out his hand again - this time, he was obviously less afraid and doubtful; he carefully touched the exposed loose skin between the old man's ribs.

He was stabbed. But he still stood there, his mouth gagged by the cloth, and he was gasping for breath.

The middle-aged man turned his head and looked at the security guard. Apparently, because he hadn't been hurt by the two touches, his expression became more ingratiating.

Without even needing a command, he stretched out his hand again, this time grabbing the old man's chest:

The [Plastic Immortal] finally raised his hands tremblingly and pushed forward; pushing right on the middle-aged man's neck -

"Stay away from me and don't touch me!"

The homeless old man pushed the ball into the air.

The bellows-like breathing stopped abruptly: [Plastic Immortal] staggered and almost lost his balance.

But the middle-aged man in front of him had disappeared at some point, like a popped soap bubble.

The two remaining hostages stood there in a daze. The obese man, pulling the buzzcut boy with him, took a step back. They knew the general power of the "Plastic Immortal"'s ecstasy, but this was the first time they had seen it in person.

And [Plastic Immortal] opened his mouth wide, with few good teeth left:

"Does he have a destiny with immortality?"

The [security guard] tapped his chin with the butt of his pistol and walked over to the obese man.

"Well, I personally think the trigger is in the hand; at least that's what I visually observe. And it doesn't require his subjective consciousness to activate it. What do you think?"

The obese man tried to open his eyes wide and swallowed his saliva:

"--It happened so fast, I didn't see it clearly"

[Security] shrugged:

"It's okay, try again."

He casually grabbed one of the remaining hostages, grabbed his sparse hair, and pushed him in the direction of the [Plastic Immortal]:

"Look carefully this time—otherwise, when we run out of manpower, I'll have to trouble you to help me test it."

The fat man shrank his neck, but his eyes were wide open:

"Observe with the naked eye? It would be better to use a video camera or a video camera to determine the exact contact area--"

The [security guard] disagreed and patted the other person's fat back:

"Look, I'm wearing sunglasses—not myopia glasses. I'm not a scientist, so it's okay as long as it works."

[Plastic Immortal] stumbled backwards until he was against the wall. His face was full of panic, and his words were incomprehensible:

"Evil demons, evil heretics, don't even think about using me to ascend to heaven."

The security guard raised his wrist and looked—there was a plastic electronic watch attached to it, probably a cartoon game watch produced by Casio-Bandai. Like the homeless old man, no one could understand what he said:

"I figure it's about five or six kilometers from here. We should be able to make it in time—we can save him and keep him alive."

-

As he was speaking, the [security guard] stepped forward and pushed the hostage onto the homeless old man. The hostage was hit hard, but did not disappear. He stumbled and twisted with the homeless old man.

"Oh, is this okay?"

[Security] clenches his hand into a half fist and hits the hostage's Adam's apple with the base of his palm.

Kara!

He moved the hostage's twitching body away and gently placed it aside:

"Don't die, hold on a little longer. I still need your help."

The [security guard] spun around and went behind the [Plastic Immortal], shoved his hands under the old man's armpits, clamped his stinking upper arms, and twisted them backwards:

Click.

“Ah ...

Amidst screams, the old man twisted his hands into a pair of wings that pointed diagonally upwards, pointing towards the sun - but they were bent in a strange way, with his shoulder blades bulging out; they must have been broken entirely, standing there like a sculpture.

"Oh, it's okay! That was a close call. Now let's try again."

The [security guard] pushed up his sunglasses, ducked around the old man's raised arm as if avoiding clothes hanging out to dry, and then kicked him in the chest, pushing him against the wall.

He grabbed the hostage next to him who was still struggling and twitching; with a shoulder push, he easily lifted the other person up.

Then, he used the hostage's elbow, which was covered with clothes, to touch the five fingers of the [Plastic Immortal]:

The hostage was "fine"—he hadn't disappeared, but was shaking in pain.

"good."

The [security guard] was in a ballet-like position, holding his partner high in the air. He smacked his lips, not knowing what he was saying.

He then lifted the twisting and twitching hostage again, letting the hostage's hair touch the old man's raised hands -

There was a thud: [The security guard] stumbled due to the change of center of gravity, and the soles of his shoes rubbed against each other; he lowered his arms, and his hands were empty.

This time, the hostage disappeared.

"Oh! Sure. When we get back, let's try and see if it still has the same effect after separating the arms."

The [security guard] examined his empty palms, then rubbed them together vigorously, seeming to think:

"No, I'm too old. I'll die in a second. I don't have that much time."

"--However, if the portability issue can be solved, it should be quite useful."

The [security guard] sighed, a satisfied smile on his face. He kicked the [Plastic Immortal] down with one leg, causing him to roll into the pile of cardboard with his broken arm.

"OK, I think I know how to do it. I'm going to fix this old man so he can be of some use."

He hopped on tiptoe and walked to the last hostage; it was an old grandmother with deep nasolabial folds and cheeks drooping like a bulldog.

The [security guard] pulled out a dagger like a magic trick, cut the zip tie on her wrist, and then patted Grandma on the back:

"Thank you for your hard work, old lady. Come on, take the food out of your mouth and go back to drink some water."

[The security guard] stood there, watching the old woman dancing with tattered newspaper and cloth stuffed in her mouth, stumbling around the corner and disappearing from sight.

Chapter 127 Let’s Play “Asgard Blood Feast” Now

The [security guard] looked at the old man who was rolling around in the pile of cardboard and wailing. He then glanced at the young man with a crew cut who was standing unsteadily due to blood loss.

Then she sighed, put her arm on the fat man's shoulder, and pushed up her sunglasses with one hand, as if they were old friends.

"I think I should get a few more weapons. I'm going to be armed to the teeth. This is a serious job; I might get killed if I'm not careful."

"Hey - don't ask me about the specific content of my job. I can't disclose it."

The obese man tensed up and spoke at a rapid pace, like a tongue twister. The content of his speech was completely unrelated to what the [security guard] had just said:

"If I'm going to go into ecstasy, I have to be able to maintain a clear mind: neither sedatives nor hallucinogens will work! This has been tested, there's no need to lie to you!"

"And the mental state needs to be very stable, and it needs to be in a safe environment; it cannot be forced or threatened—"

[Security guard] scratched his broad nose, looking a little embarrassed:

"Alas, I wasn't going to pick on you; your fanaticism is too weak, man—just the facts, no personal attacks."

"The front is so fragile. If you can't even disguise someone else's face, then it really has no practical value."

He patted the fat man's bulging belly, which trembled:

"I'm not saying this, but you should consider getting some cardio and stop eating so much fried food. That Taro King isn't very good either; it's just a sugar and oil mixture."

"If you improve your physical fitness, you might still be able to fight. Lose some weight and live a few more years after retirement, huh?"

"Alright, alright, help me get the old man back to the car, and then you can take this crew cut and go home; I still have work to do."

He flipped his palm, and between his fingers appeared a business card with a gold-lined border and densely printed words. [Security] stuffed it into the fat man's breast pocket:

"What a coincidence! If you need anything, please support my business. Just write to the address on the card and follow the instructions. I'll get back to you."

"Oh! I'm not actually a security guard, I'm a killer. I forgot to mention that."

The [security guard] bared his teeth and used his dagger to dig in the gap:

"But if there's no news, it means I'm completely screwed. Then go to Xinhua Bookstore and buy this year's Global Travel Handbook."

"Hey, maybe not. After a while, there might be a more convenient way to make an appointment with my colleague."

[Security guard] had been rambling on and on until here, and suddenly he lost interest and became tired.

"Come on, help me get the people to the car."

He tapped the fat man's shoulder, pulled over the guy with a crew cut, gestured with a gun, and drove and instructed the two field workers from the Asia-Europe Post, indicating that they should wade into the pile of cardboard.