Yoshiku went to various locations in Euthanasia City and met in person with several informants from the cordial information organization Machine Gun Birth to buy and sell information.
They lurk all over the dark city with the troublesome rule that if they don't actually meet, they won't be able to ignore his organization because the trading side will have to take their own feet, but they will provide information commensurate with it.
The time is evening. Due to the cloudy weather, it was completely dim, and Yoshiku felt the killing spirit directed at him on his way home on foot on the ever-increasing downtown Azura City.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. You came to me.
While I'm sick of it, I'm not particularly afraid. It is not so easy to die because it is given regenerative power by Pure Son.
(You can't be alarmed though. Even if it's playful, it's not immortal.)
If there is anything that will be seized by more than one charge, then you must be prepared to die. It will be a tragic way to die, too, until it runs out of regenerative power.
(I've always noticed you were tailed, but he didn't intend to kill me. I couldn't even try. Are we talking, or are we reconnaissance on the same guys?
As I think about it, Shizuku goes up onto the pedestrian deck. Since there is little shelter here, there is limited place to hide. Slightly troublesome for those who follow.
I didn't come up for it. went up to identify.
Did the tailor get into trouble with that too, approaching early enough with a move that surrounded him with grandeur as he exasperated to kill. That number is six.
(That's a lot. Maybe a little unsavory)
If you have to, just pretend to be dead so that you don't understand your regenerative power, but that's the only time you can use it. If you find yourself alive, the assassins will come again, and this time they will kill you with precision in mind.
(It is also possible to find out that you have the ability to play, but you have to jump down and run away at once)
Engaging doesn't win. In addition to the large number, each and every one of them is quite powerful, because at a glance we found out. Dimensions are completely different from those of the chimps who have been trying to kill themselves at any given time.
It is a long time after trying to run to the railing, but the bullet the assassin has fired puts on his foot and his foot stops unexpectedly. With a silencer, no gunshots fired.
(Stupid, stop here and do what)
A long time to scold your chickenness. Even though he came off, he freaked out and stopped on his feet, which reduced his distance from the enemy. Whether it's just for a moment or not, this could even be deadly.
It was a long time ago when I had a feeling that I would be hived for the moment I stopped, but somehow there was no sign that I would continue to be shot. I thought maybe the passers-by couldn't shoot in the way, but something's wrong.
Looking back, it turns out he didn't continue to get shot.
The six assassins - no, the assassins, who had reduced the number to five, had not set their sights on him for a long time as one. I'm concentrating my gaze on the one man who emerged from behind them, raising my mind to kill. One of them was falling apart, bleeding from his neck.
Seeing the backstreet protests begin, passers-by disperse from the sleaze and pedestrian deck. I knew that Mixing with it and running away was the best choice, but I didn't dare. It's unclear who it is, but obviously in a situation where only one person has started engaging multiple assassins in order to protect himself, he can't get away with it.
(Addition when it comes to trouble. Simple curiosity. Either way, there's no way you can get away)
I hold the gun in my nose, and Yoshiku decides.
However, it was completely unnecessary for her to increase her strength for a long time.
It was a black man holding a knife in both hands who began engaging the assassins. A blackish hairstyle with cornrown knitted hair draped all the way down to her back. Though not as tall, and seemingly skinny, I can see at a glance that its body is fairly forged just by looking behind it. Underneath the clothes will be armor of supple muscles.
One man with a knife and five assassins with guns in his hand. It's a combination we wouldn't normally talk about, but they were too close to each other. Also, each other's strength was too far away.
When a Cornroe man stuffs his closest opponent in a mild move, he flashes the knife and slits its neck with movement and speed that fits without exaggeration the phrase unstoppable early work.
In doing so, Yoshiku looked at the man's face. The age of the negroid is hard to understand, but it still turns out to be a young young man. At least I would be much younger than myself. His big eyes make him feel awkward, and he leaves behind his boyhood. Maybe he's actually a minor. Parts of exquisite shape and size and a well-balanced face are enviably handsome.
And Yoshiku knew all about the man's face and what his name was. I knew it, but I also nursed how he appeared here and fought the assassins who were after him.
Simultaneous shooting from close range also jumps into the nose of one of the assassins who shot the gun at once in a motion reminiscent of the cat as he leaned back, flashing the knife from the low altitude, as if he had spotted all the timing and ballistics.
The black youth shields the body of a deadly assassin, and at the same time points the gun he was holding at the other assassins, pulling the trigger from finger to finger. Now the assassins are reduced to half.
The three remaining men knew the difference in strength and immediately took the choice of retreat. Nor do the youth try to chase it, but drop it off.
"Thanks for the help. You're the one I've been wearing, aren't you?
Yoshiku approached the youth and thanked them.
"Yes, Mr. Takada, I will escort you until this one thing is ji-end. I say Terence Moore."
The young man introduced himself, grinning and laughing in a slightly one-word Japanese language.
This is the first time we've met about the person, but I knew Yoshiku. He's famous for his work. He is the leader of the environmental terrorist group Sea Chihuahua, the most powerful warrior and renowned figure of the Sea Chihuahua.
"Was Mr. Van Damme expecting me to be attacked?"
I guess that's what it's all about sending sea chihuahua warriors who are the lower organisation of grim penis and take on rough and dirty work.
"Yes. I've been guarding from the shadows to deliberately attract and repel. I've decided that it's better to have an impact on my enemies than to show them I'm protecting them from the start."
"I see..."
Even if Van Damme knew who the enemy was, and instructed him to do so, he would discern.
"Isn't Luciferin Dust a rock too? Some people want me dead. So, for Mr. Van Damme, you think I'd rather be alive?"
"Mr. Van Damme likened it that way when some people thought it would be preferable to destroy the pipeline, sir."
"If I get killed, it won't be easy for me to show up in my cauldron, and you're letting loose the transmission of information to the public? I mean, my presence is more inconvenient to some guys on Luciferin Dust's side than the back street."
A long time to learn frustration. While keeping the back street as evil and righteous, it seems that what you are actually doing is no different from the back street. No, I'm just putting up false justice, and this one's badder and angrier than that.
"I won't let you kill me, so don't worry, yo."
Terrence spreads a grinningly uncontrolled grin on his face, which leaves it unbearable. Yoshiku felt that it was not just a loving laugh, but a laugh with a seeping personality.
"Wow! I don't like it. Ahhh! I don't want to die. Yeah, yeah!
Uenohara Uenosuke was still drinking deeply at home today, crying and rambling.
Nearly half of the two hundred tsubo mansions passed down from one generation to the next, both the handicap and the fusima, have been torn. Drunk in alcohol to distract fears, but fears that never soothe. Uenohara has remained rough since I heard Big Moon died.
I held a press conference to protect myself and dared to make a statement to fight, but I have always been frightened that that was a mistake. My grandmother told me that if I did, I wouldn't be attacked the other way around, so I held that press conference out of the blue, but I still can't tell you that there's no chance of me being attacked.
"You, calm down. Your mother will scold you again."
My wife's superior son, while grating, can't.
"Shut up! I'm coming into the man's world at the woman's minute.
Ueno shouts things that don't make sense because of his deep liquor and kicks at his superior son.
Only in the absence of her grandmother, Uenohara was from day to day the violent father of Pavilion Principal Baikmaru.
"Damn it, you're going to kill me, this worried man who's been fighting for your country? I won't let that happen! Somebody should protect me. Ooh! Somebody save my life!
"You're not stupid. Come on, man."
Before the spreading Ueno, her daughter Ueno appears and pours out her sincerely despised gaze. Uemai is thirteen years old. Ueno, who is past the calendar, is a parent and child whose age difference is nearly fifty years apart.
"Are you unconscious that you're the most rude person I've ever been? What a patriot, what a statesman, I can't believe it. I want to show that to both my shitty father's followers."
From day to day, the father of the heavenly state rounded out, even in front of his family, how should the people of the country be conservative. If the threat of neighboring countries is any good, he curses here and here because Ueme hates his father so fiercely that he is so prestigious after all that talk.
"Kisa, oh, my God! That mouth-worthy way toward the head of the big black pillar of the family, forgiveness ahhhhh! Parents should be respectful. No! That's Japan's tradition to keep. Ooh!
Summoning, Ueno was a real goo punch toward his thirteen-year-old daughter, but she was gently squeezed and, conversely, devoured her daughter's knee kick in the face, blowing it up and falling.
"I hit your mother again. Never forgive me."
"Stop, don't bully your father. Your father's trying so hard."
He approached his fallen father in the shape of anger and was an upper beauty trying to chase him, but his mother clings to his feet crying and stops him.
"Shut up. Are you doing this?"
Uenohara blued with a grumpy voice.
"Grandma Zeng"
"Grandma."
Uemami and Ueko react at about the same time. My superior son had a relieved face.
What appeared was a wrinkly old woman, who seemed to be over a hundred years old, no matter how she saw it. But its hips are stretched straight, and its footsteps are firm.
"Is Uenosuke drinking and crying again? In front of having a daughter, I'm really sorry. Well, you can't help it. Because I spoiled it and raised it. Sorry, Ueko, Uemmi"
"No, no..."
"Grandma Zeng isn't bad. No matter how much you grow up spoiled, you're already a good old man, and you need to stare back at yourself."
I bow my head to the old lady, who bows her head softly, and my eldest son bows his head with regret. Uemami says whatever she wants in a frightened tone.
The old woman's name is Umeko Uenohara. He is a global celebrity whose name is much better known than his grandson Uenohara Uenosuke.
Umeko was the heir to Uenohara's ancient martial arts and at the same time was familiar with all martial arts around the world, called the god of martial arts and told as a legend by fighters from all over the world. He is now retired due to his old age of one hundred and fifteen, but until the age of one hundred and fifteen a decade ago, he served as a guide for CQC (Melee Fighting) in the French Army. He also has extensive military experience and a background in fighting on battlefields around the world as a mercenary.
"You have no choice. It's for my sweet grandson, albeit a fool. I'll protect you."
Uenohara raised his sob face to the words of Umeko, who spoke in a gentle voice.
"Oh well. If your grandmother can escort you, you're a golden rod to the ghost."
"What are you talking about? Your wife is retired at your age."
"It's okay, Mother. Grandma Zeng said she was still active and would get through enough."
Uenohara, Ueko and Uemai say each. Uenohara's daughter Uemami, by the way, is neatly trained from an early age by Umeko, who returned from France after retiring, and is named the next heir to Uenohara's ancient martial arts.
"What are you talking about? I'm not going to escort you."
Plump laughing at it.
"This is already a war, so there's no need for escorts. They must have killed one of us, too, right? One of the guys from the other faction killed him in retaliation, declared war, and then he found the guy he thought was the enemy, and he gave him to the blood festival from one end, and he killed them all. He's the quickest and most efficient."
"Grandma Zeng, that's cool"
Uenohara and Ueko's husband and wife shook up at Umeko, who grinned like demons on his wrinkled face, and Ueko cheered with his hands clenched in front of his chest.