Wine and Gun

Alexander was still on the phone, probably more police were rushing in that direction, but specifically what he said Hardy couldn't hear, it was as if a strange rhythm was scribbled in his ears, making everything All seem quite unreal.

It's almost there. The corners of Hardy's mouth twitched tightly, and he could even see the gray walls of the New Tarkel Federal Penitentiary between the trees as the car turned.

It's almost here, the moment when the game ends—

"So," said Herstal Armalette, looking at Jerome, his voice still flat like a chatter, a tone that probably made the other party even more annoyed, "you're tired of sending people out for activities and meals. Are you looking for trouble for me when you’re not, or instigating the prison guards who received bribes to trouble me?”

Jerome, the tall, fierce-eyed prison gang boss, slowly narrowed his eyes, and his eyes would make most inmates who didn't join the gang tremble, because that often means something hasn't happened but will. Terrible things that happen and not knowing when the guillotine will fall is always one of the most terrifying things.

So all the people who were walking around boredly in the corridor suddenly lost their voices, the people who were hanging out stopped in the corridor, and the people who were playing cards or chatting loudly also stopped. A pair of eyes stared in this direction from the half-opened cell with iron railings, cobwebs entangled them.

The entire corridor was quickly emptied within dozens of seconds, and the surrounding people returned to the nearby cells at the fastest speed. Rather, everyone realized that something was going to happen, so they tacitly cleared their surroundings, leaving the battlefield for the few people still standing in the corridor.

Or a slaughterhouse.

There is no difference between the two.

Albarino Bacchus stopped slowly sorting out the information in his hand.

He paused like a statue, and there was no living thing in the whole room except him, only the cold wind outside the window swept snowflakes, beating heavily against the glass. The reason why Albarino had been in the infirmary for so long was to clean up all the fingerprints, strands of hair, etc. that might be left behind, after all, this would be the last time.

When he paused, he was still wearing rǔ rubber gloves, and was about to stuff the last thing into his backpack. Then he tilted his head, as if intending to listen to something—though the room was soundproofed so theoretically he couldn't hear anything.

That might be some kind of a very sharp sixth sense, a wild intuition, a momentary prediction of the future produced by the monster. All in all, Albarino turned his head slightly, and turned his eyes to the door of the infirmary: the door was closed well, and he was locked, but there was still a ray of light in the corridor outside from the door, and there were Black shadows dangle between the brilliance, it is someone walking outside.

Also, there seemed to be a little too many people walking outside the door.

Albarino was silent for a second or two, then suddenly laughed softly.

"Bart..."

He sighed softly, to himself.

"Today is finally a step faster than usual."

Midalen was grabbing the remote control from Hunter when Olga Molozze picked up the call, and they occasionally disagreed over "what movie to watch", like if one wanted to watch an action movie , and the other guy wanted to see a war movie or something.

Middle-aged and elderly people are not used to the bells and whistles of special effects fights in action movies, while young people don't want to watch war movies with roaring airplanes. This is all forgivable. When Olga answered the phone, the two tacitly turned down the sound of the TV—because they both knew how boring Olga was actually, except she would get off work with the police. In fact, they don't contact each other on purpose other than drinking together, and after Albarino's "death", this kind of friendship is even less. Well, the call at this time is basically because of business.

She couldn't hear what Olga was talking about, so she just nodded, ok a few times, and hung up the phone. She threw the phone back on the table, and Midaren asked curiously, "What's the matter? Is there a new case? The evil Santa Claus murderer?"

"...I'll just say you've watched too much Supernatural during this time," Olga complained, "It's not that there's some new killer, it's that WLPD thinks they're going to catch Albarino. "

"What?!" The other two responded with such a startled cry, and Hunter even scolded him because he was too shocked.

"It's very troublesome to explain the cause and effect. I'd rather say the conclusion directly." Olga shrugged her shoulders, and her voice was a little too flat. Anyone who was still paying attention to Herstal's case would feel heartbroken because of his attitude. "The conclusion is: they think Albarino is at the Nova Tuckel federal prison, so there's a bunch of cops going in that direction, and they're asking me if I want to go, after all I've been profiling the pianist and gardener cases. , if Al is still alive, the 'Herstal is the pianist and Al is the gardener' conjecture is almost proven."

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