Wine and Gun

And like most villains in the world, this one is clearly willing to explain to his victims the cause and effect of his nefarious plans. Is it true that these people don't usually watch action movies? What a tragic death for those talkative villains.

"I was living in a hotel across the street from an elementary school and was trying to pick a suitable victim from that school," McAdam hissed, his expression terrifying and bloodshot in his eyes, "I got in there pretending to be a maintenance worker. I saw their school and saw that they were holding an art exhibition—"

Albariño almost knows what's going on, because Bart Hardy really is the type of person who would take a picture of his daughter's crayons on his phone and show it off to everyone around him: Clara drew "My "Mom and Dad and I" won an award at school for a painting of a similar theme.

It is estimated that no one can imagine what kind of consequences a pair of colored strokes can lead to, which is the elusive part of fate. Herstal hugged Clara, his shoulders were tense, and his knife had fallen out of nowhere when it exploded; while Albarino tried to hide his figure behind him, trying not to get too involved. Going to touch the gun in the holster under his arm with that wound—it didn't go well either.

To make matters worse, it was obvious that McAdam's speech was coming to an end, and the barrel of the gun in his hand was pushed forward again, almost touching Herstal's eyebrows. Herstal shrank back almost subconsciously, his back touching the back of Albarino's hand.

"Although this is not what I expected," McAdam announced, "but you guys don't even want to live—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

A sharp white blade emerged from his chest, bringing out a stream of bright red blood. It was at this moment that Albarino rushed over quickly, crossed Herstal's shoulder and grabbed McAdam's shoulder, holding back a groan because of the pain in his shoulder. Then he twisted it hard, and the pistol slammed onto the floor covered in charred smoke.

Then the sharp blade was pulled out sharply. McAdam didn't seem to feel the pain dully. He trembled and touched his chest. Of course, he touched the blood on his hand, and then fell to his knees slowly and painfully. Orion Hunter was standing behind him, holding a sharp blade whose handle was clearly the handle of his crutch.

"It's the first time I've ever seen someone actually hide a knife in a cane," Albarino said to him sincerely. "Are you living in a nineteenth-century movie?"

"This kind of drama saved your life, young man." Old Hunter replied gruffly, then he turned to Herstal, glanced hesitantly at McAdam, who was lying on the ground groaning in pain, and asked, "… ...well, lawyer, that's self-defense, isn't it?"

Herstal really didn't really want to deal with them.

Now.

Fifteenth Avenue was a mess: a fire truck was prominently parked on the side of the road, and heavily armed firefighters were nervously moving in and out of the house. McAdam was pulled away in one ambulance, Clara in another, and before that Albarino put Clara into a side-lying position under the eye of a group of SWATs, before using The bag of frozen peas wrapped in an old towel was placed on Clara's forehead—to reduce cerebral edema, he said—and the first-aid posture was quite adept.

Fortunately, the misunderstanding has now been clarified. The young man from the FBI was standing next to SWAT's car, how embarrassed and embarrassed to call his boss, and the old Hunter limped at him like a pompous flower peacock. Wander around. Albarino was finally able to sit in the back of the last ambulance and have an emergency doctor treat the burn on his shoulder.

"You're lucky, the burns aren't serious," said the soft-voiced female doctor, holding Albarino to the spot with an uncanny force, rinsing the wound with cold water, then applying iodophor to the wound , completely ignoring her patient grimacing in pain. "I'll bandage the wound and give you a tetanus shot just to be on the safe side, and then you'll be fine."

— No, things haven’t gotten to the point where “it’s okay” at all.

Because on the one hand, they didn't know what was going on with Hardy and Wallis, and Herstal's call to him was completely unanswered, so they could only text him the news of Clara's temporary escape. On the other hand, Herstal was looking at Albarino, his eyes like a deboning knife.

The emergency doctor treated Albarino with an injection, and then left - a neighbor came to her, saying that the explosion shattered the glass of his house, and the glass cut a child, and wanted to invite her Look at the bandage or not - Albarino's eyes followed the female doctor's back until she disappeared from the street, and then his eyes turned back to Herstal.

For some reason, his eyes still looked lazy, and when he spoke, his tone was not salty. He simply said, "You ask."

As someone who likes to talk in circles so much, it's shocking that Albarino would choose such a straight-forward beginning. Herstal stared at the soft smile at the corner of the other's mouth. Albarino was naked, with gauze wrapped around his shoulders. His chest and abdomen were covered with slender scars. The red gradually fades.

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