big devil holmes

Chapter 1 Old Jack

Old Jack has two things to do today.

First, he had to pay the water bill.

The second thing is that he has to kill someone.

Because of his procrastination, he always likes to put off difficult things until the end.

So he was going to kill that person first.

6 points in the early hours.

Holy calendar 288 --- London.

In fact, the early morning is not too different from the dusk, and the visibility is not very good. The Berlin-made airship above the head floats lazily like a giant whale, blocking the not so much sunlight. The whole city seems to be wrapped in a sky. among the dust.

But what is amazing is that when you look up, you can still see the big chimney in the distance pouring thick smoke continuously.

These chimneys are like flags, showing the supreme power and wealth of the empire.After the gates of hell were opened, these chimneys became more diligent.

In the words of the newspaper. "If the factories don't step up their work, what will happen to the financial expenditure? Who will support the army? Who will manufacture the weapons? Who will deal with the demons who run out of the gate?"

It sounds grand, but even people like Old Jack who haven't read much know that what comes out of those chimneys is the blood and sweat of the poor.

As for the money, it all went into the pockets of the capitalists.

Oh, at this time, the word "capitalist" has not been popularized yet, so old Jack used to use other words to call them
Example: Bastards with no assholes.

Xianglan Street in Xiacheng District, a small street about two kilometers away from the Thames River.

It took old Jack three hours to get here, and now the morning fog has almost cleared.Looking around, he could see a field of not very fresh cow dung, trash cans that hadn't been cleared for months by the side of the road, steam billowing from the sewer, two mice running past a stray cat, The cat just yawned lazily.

And at the end of the street, there is a grocery store. Even after the fog clears, the store is still hidden in the shadow of the surrounding walls.

It all goes to show that this is a great place to kill.
Old Jack was very happy.

He stepped over the cow dung on the ground, came to the door of the grocery store, opened the door and walked in.

"Morning!" He greeted a pregnant boss behind the counter.

The boss was holding a newspaper, looked over from above the newspaper, didn't talk to him, and looked fierce and unfriendly.

Old Jack looked at the red bloodshot eyes with obvious liver cirrhosis, and the particularly prominent beer belly, and determined that this guy was the one to kill today.

"Excuse me, is there a fruit knife here?" he asked.

"Over there." The boss pointed in a direction with his eyes angrily.

"Thank you." After thanking Jack, he walked over, picked out a few that were still in his hand, and walked back to the counter.

"7 pence." The boss continued in that unfriendly tone.

With such an unattractive temper, Jack thought, it was only reasonable for someone to want to buy his life.

Of course, he doesn't want to worry about who this guy has provoked. He just wants to finish the ticket quickly and pay the water bill.

"Excuse me, is there a police station nearby?" He asked, taking out a shilling and putting it on the table.

"No."

"Then how many customers do you usually have here?"

"There is no one on the street, where are the customers?!" The boss muttered angrily, and turned to look for some change.

Jack nodded reassuringly, then picked up the knife.

It went smoothly into the opponent's neck.

Sometimes, old Jack always wondered why human beings are so fragile, they can be killed with a knife, but they can rule the whole world.

And those demons are obviously very powerful, but the gate of hell has been opened for 200 years, but they are still blocked by humans on the Antarctic continent, and they can't even cross the Drake Passage.

Is it really because of those steam chariots that can only be moved by boiling water?
Or. Is it because of those contractors who have a symbiotic relationship with the devil?
Whatever it is, he is just an unknown killer, usually taking orders and dawdling around, maybe one day he won't be able to do the job anymore, he will starve to death in his own home, and he doesn't have the heart to take care of things on the battlefield.

It's not easy for anyone these days.

But fortunately, today's job is quite easy. The knife is very sharp, and it easily pierces the opponent's neck, then tears the neck muscles, reaches the throat, and cuts the entire airway with a light pick.
Seeing the boss staring at him with terrified eyes, clutching his neck and falling down, writhing on the ground like a fat maggot, Jack sighed helplessly, turned around, and turned the house number to [CLOSE] On the one hand, he drew the curtain and locked the door.

If you are so fat, how much effort will it take to lift it out in a while?Fortunately, there are no people on this street right now. In 10 minutes, it should be able to be carried to the sewer.

I was thinking about it.
Suddenly, Jack had a bad premonition again, because when he saw the people on the ground covering his throat, their fingers were stuck in the wound because of too much force, and the thick knuckles were on the bright red Poking and poking in the gaps.

"Well, it shouldn't be."

Before he finished speaking, his premonition came true.

The boss managed to puncture his own artery.

Fat people generally have high blood pressure, and people with high blood pressure have fragile blood vessels.
In an instant, blood spurted fiercely from the wound, like a small fountain, straight to the ceiling, and then was smashed into large bloody flowers, splashing on the ground.

As we all know, killing people is actually a very simple thing, but if the corpse squirts blood everywhere, it will be annoying to clean up. It's easy to cook, but it's annoying to wash dishes for the same reason.

So Old Jack was completely decadent at this moment.

He leaned against the door, rubbing his head in pain, and once again thought of retiring quickly.

"How can this be fixed?!"

And just when he was in great pain.

"bell bell"

A series of telephone rings suddenly rang.

Old Jack was taken aback, and followed the sound to search for it. Finally, he found the phone under a pile of newspapers on the counter.

A very standard 'Scotland Youth A. Bell' phone is common in this day and age, but it's not cheap either.

He looked at the noisy phone in front of him, hesitating whether he should answer it or not.

After weighing it over and over in his mind, he decided to pick it up first, even if he didn't speak, it would be better to hear who the other party was.

so.he put the microphone to his ear
A very clear male voice came from the phone.

"Hello, is this Mr. Jack? I'm sorry to disturb you, but I want to make sure, have you finished killing?"

"???"

Jack only felt that his mind was blank for a moment, and then a sense of absurdity and evil climbed up his forehead.

"Snapped!"

He put the microphone back on.

To be honest, he was a little confused.
what's the situation?Did the guy on the phone say 'Mr. Jack'?

Are you talking to me?But how does the other party know that I am here?

Also, what does the phrase 'killed' mean in his mouth?
Just as he was wondering, suddenly, he heard a knock on the door of "Boom~Boom~Boom~".

Old Jack turned his head immediately, and had been a killer for more than 30 years. At this moment, he held his breath abnormally.

'Who could be out there? '

He thought about it, and subconsciously began to rejoice that he locked the door just now
'It should be a passing guest. As long as you don't make a sound, the other party will be very sensible and leave. '

However, the thoughts are not lost
"Crack! Kick!"

The lock actually made a few light clicks!
Then, the doorknob turned slowly
Immediately afterwards, it was pushed away.

Outside the door stood a man in a windbreaker, tall, but also very thin, about 30 years old, with a very typical British face, but his nose was a bit high, which made his facial features too three-dimensional.

The gray sunlight shone in from the edge of his body, covering the bloody room full of evil gold.

The man glanced at the blood fountain that hadn't stopped in front of him, and didn't show any panic, but heaved a sigh of relief as if he suddenly realized.

"Huh—what did I say, I waited outside for 5 minutes and didn't see you coming out. I thought you missed it. It turned out that the artery was broken; it doesn't matter, anyway, it's fine if you kill it, so... also Even if it was stolen and obtained.”

As the man said, he cast his eyes on Old Jack, who looked confused, and took off his old top hat, put it on his chest, and bowed slightly lazily:

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, next Sherlock Holmes is a detective."

(End of this chapter)