Agent Baby I President Daddy You Demon

【394 Nangong Mo ([-])】

I looked at the Nangong Island, which was still in ruins but restored to military defense even though it had just been through the war, and I couldn't help leaning on the boat and sighing, "The underground is really a good place."

Diderot looked enlightened, "Son, you have chosen the best headquarters location for me."

The underground headquarters, a wonderful hiding place, started because of me.

Diderot always called me a child, and it was weird to be called that by him along the way. His appearance and manners were at most thirty or so, and he was well-maintained. , was mistaken for my brother many times.

He understood my doubts and explained, "I'm actually very old."

"How old?"

"I'm too lazy to count my age."

"Your tone is as if you are nearly a century old."

"How can there be such an exaggeration of nearly a hundred?" He pondered, seriously, "Eighty should be there."

I take it as a joke.

It's normal for weirdos to say weird things.

Back in London, Diderot began to prepare for the construction of Jack’s underground headquarters, and I was in his laboratory every day for blood tests, reports, examinations, and nutritional medicines.

When I asked him, he used the excuse of keeping a sense of mystery to hide what I wanted to do. This kind of life lasted for about half a month. When I was told not to leave the research room, I drove alone for a day and arrived in a small town in England.

The scenery here is extremely beautiful, the scenery is beautiful, and the people are hospitable and warm. I didn't bring any money and stayed in a homestay. This is a mixed family, with a beautiful and tall British wife, and an Asian and Korean husband with black hair and yellow skin. Can see how rebellious punk dress young daughter.

Their daughter was very friendly to me, and even offered me the bedroom of her brother when she was traveling, saying that she could go to her room to solve any problems at any time.

The parents of this family were also very friendly to me, saying that they wanted their daughter to take me around the town the next day.

I smiled and agreed, because there was no reason to refuse.

They were so generous to me, I think probably because I drive a very expensive car.

I went to bed early, the most important reason is that I don't like passionate women very much. After all this time, the definition of girlfriend in my heart is still like kid Dougley 033, who is shy and not Not violent, silent but cute.

I had a premonition that I had an affair at night, so I didn't even take off my clothes when I went to bed.

At night, she really came into the room. First, she chatted and inquired about my life experience, and then slowly began to approach me, doing all kinds of seductive moves in a sexy and beautiful way.

I politely refused at first, then slowly became impatient, and finally became irritable.

I couldn't help but put on a cold face and wanted to say goodbye, telling her to love herself a little bit.

Maybe it was my tone that offended this open-minded girl. Seeing that I was so ungrateful, she angrily cursed a few times in a vulgar local tone and refused to give up. She grabbed the package I put on the table and threw it out, asking me to immediately leave--

Is this considered to be jealous or can't bear the slightest loss?

Normally, I wouldn't care about this kind of thing, but when she finally said no less than a dozen fuck you, I closed the door, took an adhesive tape, touched her mouth, and tied her up.

I don't like vulgarity, and her hysterical appearance reminds me of the dead woman who yelled at me for years.

I threw her on the ground, squinting my eyes and threatening, "You shouldn't remind me of bad memories."

I couldn't tell if she was afraid or not, but I just shook my head and shouted as hard as I could, but the voice turned into a whining sound through the tape barrier. She beat the floor hard with her feet to ask for help from her parents. ...

And then, my mind got hot, and I did something I never wanted to do in my whole life.

Killed with his own hands.

fuck!

Jumping out of the window, the first swear word in a flat voice also popped out of his mouth!

I was immature at the time, even though I knew I would be fine, but when I saw the blood stains on my hands, I still panicked and ran in such a hurry that I didn't even have time to wipe the fingerprints on the knife.

Finally, at the town's closed border, I was caught and taken to the police station.

That day happened to be the third day of my adulthood. I was charged with murder and was imprisoned for life.

I am indeed guilty, but I have no fear of getting such a punishment, because I know that I have enough capital to escape from prison, and I don't need anyone's help just with my eyes.

But what I can't figure out is that I'm not bloodthirsty, and I'm not easily impulsive.

Why did he suddenly make such a cruel and puzzling move?

I cannot explain it, but feel that it has something to do with Diderot.

Just when I was thinking about this question for three days, I was rescued by a man—Jack Hull, one of the founders of the Jack family, and Diderot had a close relationship in distress.

Jack Hull brought me back to Jack's headquarters. Diderot was furious when he saw that I was in a mess. He put on a steel fist and punched me in the stomach. For the next half an hour, I was beaten He lay on the ground twitching from the beating, unable to move, and spat blood from his mouth.

He took off the hurting thing in his hand, squatted beside me to comfort him, "If you don't get such a beating, you won't remember my words, child, you haven't reached the time to fly high yet."

The face-changing speed is as fast as turning the pages of a book.

I clenched my fists and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, "Diderot, no one dares to hit me like this!"

"Surprise, I'm ready," he suddenly smiled, "It's specially prepared for you, do you want to visit?"

Before I could get angry, I was dragged away by him, put on a radiation-proof gown, and taken to a special isolation room——

There was a seven or eight-year-old boy in casual clothes standing in the room. When he saw Diderot and me, he stepped forward and called respectfully, "Master."

Diderot nodded and asked how the preparations were going. The young man nodded, walked to the long glass table, stretched his arms, and pulled off the pure white flannel covering the glass...

In the huge glass vessel placed horizontally is a man soaked in potion!

No, that's me in the potion!

stunned.

This is the first time in my life that I felt such a shocking feeling, and this time I promise, if I use this idiom to describe it now, I will definitely not go wrong!

(Thanks to Yuwei for giving the silent gold medal, dear satifuil for the silent gift, and dear 11291677 for the silent red envelope^_^)