Wine and Gun

And no one in the entire bathroom planned to pay attention to him, as expected of the "lovable" Pfister—this is estimated to be the highest state of being loved by everyone: there is no sense of existence at all. Given that he had such a handsome face, it was kind of amazing.

Meanwhile, Herstal was sure that the bastard standing in front of him had absolutely no intention of getting out of the way.

"Get out of the way." Herstal was too lazy to talk nonsense with the man in front of him.

"Don't," the guy continued with a smile, his tone and body language all like standard textbook perverts. When he said this, he even pushed his crotch unnecessarily, just to show his hardened yīnjīng to whoever was in the bathroom—I don’t know who it was, probably no one wanted to see it. "I heard that chemical castration will cause breasts to grow, right? I wonder how those little nurses in the medical room examine you? Why don't you let me see too—"

He really stretched out his hand when he said that. Hestal didn't even blink an eye. He grabbed his wrist with one hand, clasped his shoulder with the other hand, stepped forward, and rubbed his hand— —The man let out a gruff howl, one arm unmistakably dislocated.

Then Herstal let go of his arm, reached out and tugged at his hair violently, shoving him forward. Unable to maintain his balance, the man staggered to the ground, staggering face up, and Herstal grabbed his hair in this position and slammed his head against the wall faucet. .

With just a dull sound, Herstal felt blood spatter on his hands. Then he let go, the strands of hair slipped from his fingers, and the man fell limply to the ground.

Blood is warm, and Herstal would normally be satisfied with that: oddly enough, but he does enjoy the sensation of blood on his fingers, and the Westerland pianist would be a mere It's not surprising that a serial killer takes off his gloves when his victim is disemboweled.

But not at this moment. The effect of flutamide actually feels like it has turned off a valve in his mind that should have been excited; the feedback information is not answered, and the only thing left is to make Unpleasant emptiness. Herstal frowned, feeling a little more angry than before.

So Herstal turned to the other people who were loosely surrounding him: there were four others in total, the other three prisoners who didn't want to cause trouble, and Pfister were standing against the wall with discernment, no one wanted to Get involved in this mess.

Herstal raised his eyebrows and calmly stepped over the bleeding-headed guy lying on the ground.

"What else do you want to say?" he asked.

To anyone's eyes, it was a scene: a man and a woman, well-dressed, came out of a luxury residence. The woman was a beautiful red-haired woman who looked very young, probably not yet thirty; the man was Slightly older, with black hair and gold-rimmed glasses, with a look of disgust evident on his face.

It looked like a common combination of people who would walk out of a luxury residence, and it looked a lot like they were about to head to some high society party; except that—except Gabriel knew well, the gentleman next to her had at least With three guns away.

The two of them had just stopped by the parking lot in front of the house when a black car stopped silently beside them, the Bentley wing emblem gleaming in the light of the streetlights. Gabriel knew that at this moment Bruce Pritzker might be standing at a window watching the two of them, but she didn't care too much.

The man next to her, whom she called "Sacharia", helped her to open the back door of the car very gently, and after she got in, he sat in the passenger seat. As soon as he took his seat in the passenger seat, Gabriel asked directly in German, "Saka, what are you sulking about today?"

"It's nothing, Miss Morgenstern," said Zacharias in a voice so calm that he didn't even look at his employer in the rearview mirror, "I was just thinking, if you could spend your money in America It would be good to keep your enthusiasm in Hoxton a little bit, and I guess every brother of yours who is still alive is now eyeing the power within the family while you are away from the country."

"And your paperwork is piling up." Gabriel pointed out with a smile.

"Yes, my documents are piled up like a mountain." Zacharias repeated, the corners of his mouth tightened slightly, "and it doesn't matter who you send to solve this trivial matter in Westland, I see Wall Fugang can do it well by himself."

——Wolfgang was obviously the driver who was driving them, because the driver choked on the air and looked at Zacharias in horror.

"Is there anything interesting in Hoxton lately that is worth the enthusiasm? There are two perverted killers in Westland, and I am afraid that the entire Americas will not find a third active perverted murderer. ' said Gabriel in disapproval.

"That's the problem," Zacharias said bitterly. "You and the Sunday gardener—"

"You don't agree with me fighting him?" Gabriel asked with interest.

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