I cut reality into a movie

Little Tarasov's emotions at the moment were like the old Tarasov in the office who gave up the desperate fight with the revolver and poured Romon a glass of vodka instead.

They know that they are dead, so the last thing they pursue is a little freedom.

"Well, we've only seen four sides, haven't we?"

Leaning on the back of the co-pilot, little Tarasov slowly calculated: "The first time we met, I saw your car on the street; the second time we met, I went to your house and killed your dog; the second time we met, I went to your house and killed your dog; The three times we met, it was at Mengyao Nightclub, you made a mess there, as for the fourth meeting, today, you have already taken everything from me."

"It's fair, isn't it?" Romon replied, "You took everything from me, and I will take everything from you in return. We owe nothing to each other."

"You fart! This is bullshit fairness!"

Little Tarasov began to snarl: "What the hell did I do? I just killed your damn dog. It's worth one or two hundred dollars at most on the market!"

"And you? You destroyed the entire Gravel Gang, you killed hundreds of people, you destroyed my tens of millions of dollars in property, you destroyed everything about me, and when it's over, you tell me it's called equality!"

"Wait for her!"

The rash began to climb up the skin of little Tarasov, from the arms, to the body, to the neck, and finally covered the whole face, densely packed, red and red, just like the eggs laid by apple snails

"Look, look at me now! I'm fucking allergic to the word dog now! Now you still have the face to tell me, do we suffer equally?"

Little Tarasov scratched at the rash on his face, his eyes full of madness, full bloom, and more grievances.

As for Romon, he looked at him quietly and spit out names one by one: "Susan, Joseph, Julie, Katerina..."

"Enough, what are you talking about?"

"Take stock of the price!"

Luo Meng said: "These names are all names that died because of the Rubble Gang."

"Susan had her kidneys taken away, the actress Julie and her boyfriend Joseph died in a car accident you arranged, and Katerina was a dancer who was raped to death by three stoner bastards. Seriously, if let This is how I count the evidence against the Gravel Gang, and I can talk about it until next month."

"But I want to tell you that I'm not a policeman, nor a hero of justice. I killed you today not because of justice, but because you killed my dog."

"You take my dog's life, I take your dog's life, one by one, it's that simple."

As Romon said, he took off the Arsenal Strike One from his waist, and placed it in the middle of little Tarasov's forehead.

"Yeah, what's the point of taking stock of right and wrong? Let me tell you something interesting."

The itching of the rash had already caused little Tarasov to dig his ten fingers deep into the flesh, and the dark red blood flowed out. The pain caused him to maintain the last trace of reason and decency.

He took out Romon's 'wedding photo' and Tifa's photo of a police officer from his pocket, and showed it to Romon with a forced smile: "Do you think this woman looks like your dead wife?"

"You are already dead."

Looking at the photo in Little Tarasov's hand, Romon said, "All the words you say next will not appear on the screen."

"What the hell is the screen, what are you bastard talking about?" Little Tarasov was confused.

"I'm talking about, actually, the women in the two photos you took are the same person." Romon revealed the answer.

"the same person?"

Little Tarasov stared at his bloodshot eyes: "How could this be the same person? Didn't your wife die long ago?"

"Maybe, everything you see is just a play?"

Romon smiled, very relaxed, and John Wick, who was bitter and feuding just a second ago, became two people completely, but it was this relaxed smile that made little Tarasov feel like falling into an ice cellar.

He has no idea who Romon is now.

"Who are you? Who the hell are you?"

"Who am I? Guess."

Gradually using his index finger, Romon finally pulled the trigger. With a clear gunshot, little Tarasov bid farewell to this world.

OK.

Call it a day.

Romon turned around, looked at Tifa's black Chevrolet not far away, stretched his waist with his shoulders, and walked slowly towards Tifa.

The same black suit, the same moonlight.

But at this moment, the feeling that Romon brought to people was no longer death and fear, but ease and freedom.

"Oh, my beautiful and lovely Sergeant Janfort, can I give me a lift today, I don't want to walk back to the city from the bay again."

Romon rested his elbows on Tifa's open car window, smiling flatteringly at the female police officer inside.

"If you can get rid of your glib tongue, maybe I can consider it." Tifa leaned over and opened the passenger's door with her own hands.

"Where is my glibness, I just express it out of feeling."

Romon sat in the co-pilot, turned to look at Tifa, put away the joke on his face, and said seriously:

"Officer Tifa, because of my personal affairs, I have caused you a lot of trouble, let me be here, and give you my sincere thanks. If you need anything in the future, just ask me, as long as I can do it Whatever comes to me, I will definitely do it.”

Romon made a serious assurance that he is really, really very grateful to Tifa now. Without this actress in charge, Romon's "John Wick" might not have been filmed like a ghost.

"It's not just your private matter. It's always been my goal to wipe out the Rubble Gang. We're helping each other."

Tifa didn't take credit for the Gravel Gang's affairs, she looked at Romon, raised her eyebrows, and joked: "But there is one thing, you should really thank me, do you still remember that one night, in the middle of the night, you gave I'll call and let me sing you a lullaby?"

"How could that be forgotten?"

Romon raised his index finger and tapped his head: "Officer Tifa's beautiful singing voice has been engraved here forever, as long as I live, it will linger in my ears for a day."

"Hmph, you can say these beautiful words to make people happy."

Tifa turned her hot face, looked at the clear night sky outside the window, and said, "When you couldn't sleep, I sang you a lullaby, and today I also have some insomnia, so please sing me the same song again. "

"Officer Tifa, it's okay to sing, but I just sang, are you sure you can still sleep?"

"I'm a policeman. Don't underestimate me. I can adapt quickly when I alternate night vigils in the wild, let alone now."

"Alternate vigil in the wild..."

Romon nodded speechlessly: "Okay, since Officer Tifa is ready to listen to the noise, what else can I shirk."

"It's just that the surrounding environment is not suitable for rest."

Romon pointed to the battlefield full of corpses outside the window, and said, "Officer Tifa, let's switch places. I'll drive. You can take a good rest in the co-pilot."

Stepping on the accelerator lightly, Romon slowly started Tifa's car (Tifa had already filled the car when Romon just fought).

The black Chevrolet was driving smoothly on the silent coastal road. Tifa opened the window and let the night wind blow over her cheeks.

Suddenly, she opened her vermilion lips lightly and asked, "John Wick, for a dog left by his late wife, he slaughtered the entire Gravel Gang. This is how you are reported in the news."

"Romon, may I ask, why did you have to be so good and design such a fake identity for yourself? It's a dead wife, and it's for a dog. Isn't this background story a bit too complicated?"

"Or is there a deeper meaning to your story?"

Hearing Tifa's question, Romon shook his head, and said cheerfully, "It's not really a deep meaning, it's just to design a vivid false identity, which can effectively lead the police to follow the direction."

"For example, John Wick, everyone thinks he is a cold-blooded killer, so when arresting him, they will naturally rely on this image, and they will not be so concerned about hunting other images."

"Yeah, dear Mr. Romon, just to remind you, there is a police officer sitting next to you, a serious San Francisco police officer."

Listening to Romon opening and closing his mouth, just how to fool the police, Tifa deliberately put on a straight face and joked with him.

"Of course, Officer Tifa, of course I remember that you are the patron saint of San Francisco, so I haven't been caught without a fight, waiting for you to handcuff me?" Romon put his hands on the steering wheel generously, with a look of being slaughtered look.

"Copy you away?"

Tifa gave Romon a blank look, and snorted, "For a top criminal like you, arrest is not the best solution. I decided to make a plea deal with you. The punishment you receive will depend on your answer."

"Oh~~Officer Tifa, you are indeed the Jerusalem in my heart, and you can always bring me unexpected surprises. Tell me, what kind of deal can you get the police not to charge?"

"Whose photo did you use for the deceased wife in your character setting?"

Tifa leaned forward and approached Romon very oppressively, using the common posture of police interrogating prisoners, which shows that she really cares about this issue.

"Uh~~~~"

Tifa's question was really stuck by Romon. How should he answer it? He couldn't say to Tifa: Congratulations, Police Officer Tifa, you have been awarded the title of deceased wife.

Isn't this just to make people feel awkward?

Luo Meng groaned for a long time, blinked his eyes, and lied: "I don't know whose photos I took randomly on the Internet."

"you're lying!"

Tifa's amber pupils seem to be able to penetrate Romon's soul and see through the truth behind his lies.

"However... I can probably guess whose photo you used."

Tifa turned her head and looked at the starry sky outside the window, the corners of her mouth softened slightly: "So I want to punish you, now, immediately, immediately, hum "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to me."

"Your final punishment will be determined by your singing level."

----

Tifa fell asleep to Romon's unexpectedly soft voice.

But on the other side of the city, in the offices of the San Francisco Police Department, Secourt couldn't sleep.

An emergency alert was thrown in front of him.

— "Son of Garnett Tarasoff, Witt Tarasoff Shot."

Chapter 046 Stop it, Azu, Jackie Chan is outside.jpg

San Francisco Police Department headquarters.

Inside the Director's Office.

The federal Stars and Stripes, which symbolizes the country, and the California brown bear flag, which symbolizes state rights, are hung crosswise, adding a sense of solemnity to the already depressing atmosphere of the room.

Beneath the hanging flag was San Francisco Police Deputy Chief Secourt.

At this moment, he no longer has the arrogance and domineeringness of the past, his round and fat body is constantly shivering, and beads of sweat are dripping from his wrinkled face.

"Bureau, Director, I... I can explain, I can explain everything."

Opposite Secourt is the chief of the San Francisco Police Department.

This is a standard old white male politician, with meticulous hair and a neat and elegant suit. There seems to be a kind smile on the corner of his mouth forever, but his eyes are full of sinister and cunning.

Just like 200 years ago, when their ancestors landed on this land, they were full of smiles and mouthed peace. They won the friendship and trust of the Native Americans, and then they used this friendship and trust to spread the smallpox-stained The 'gift' was given to this pure continent.

"Mr. Secourt, begin your explanation."

The director's voice was cold and blunt: "I want to hear your explanation very much now, because I want to know how you led the entire San Francisco police like an idiot, and were played around by John Wick."

"In the morning, you led hundreds of people to guard Pier 61, but someone easily broke through the defense circle, not only killed Garrett Tarasov in front of you, but also left safely in a helicopter in front of you. .”

"In the afternoon, you issued a military order and mobilized more than [-] police forces, including the special operations team, to search for John Wick. What did you find? A helicopter wreckage that fell into the sea? Other than that What about it? Your mother didn't even find a useful photo!"

"At night, your Mr. Secourt's jokes can even be included in the San Francisco annual joke collection. You asked all the police in San Francisco to block the streets of San Francisco with high intensity for 24 hours. As a result, Witt Tarasoff was on the street. , was beaten into a sieve with a sniper rifle."

"Mr. Secourt, why don't you directly admit that you are John Wick's ghost in the police station, so that the face of the police station will be better."

"At least the San Francisco Police Department won't be synonymous with incompetence."

The elegant and decent police chief didn't yell from the beginning to the end, he just repeated in a dull voice what Seikot had done today.

But it is this kind of calm statement, in Secott's ears, that scares him far more than scolding him with emotional words such as Fuck, Shit, and Asshole.

huh~~~

huh~~~

Pulling the collar that had been pulled to his chest, Sekot struggled to breathe heavily. His fat lips kept opening and closing, making a faltering sound, but he just couldn't make out a complete word.

After being silent for nearly 5 minutes, Sekot swallowed a mouthful of saliva and asked with difficulty: "Director, can... can you give me some more time, I will definitely bring that bastard John Wick to justice!"

"Secot, you understand."

The director opened his arms and walked slowly to Sekot's side: "You are my right-hand man. For so many years, we have gone through countless difficulties and obstacles together. As for this time, it is destined to become a part of the history books of you and me. An ordinary page."

"Director, what do you mean..."

There was a look of hope on Sekot's face, and he was crazily grateful in his heart: I knew that I had worked so hard for so many years, and there was hard work without credit, and the director would not easily abandon me.

"What I mean is very simple." A smile floated on the director's face: "Secot, believe in yourself and give yourself a chance to start over."

slap.

This is the sound of a broken heart.