A beautiful and adorable girl, like a doll, lurking in the bush.
It's a cliché analogy, but not so, such as the girl whose analogy suits you. But she was truly the beauty and poor beauty bearer of that analogy.
I can see that clear white skin and overly neat facial construction are obviously not Japanese's.
But there is also no depth or bearish characteristic of white carvings. Looks like he took the caucasoid and the mongoloid. of Eastern Europe or the Russians. That is it. Platinum blonde hair with ground hair, said to be only very few, is sprinkled behind the neck with only rear hair stretched out.
A blouse that looks elegant to see, with chiffons and laces. Black ribbon. Blue cardigan. Upstairs is some ladylike outfit, but downstairs is not a skirt, but long trousers in loose, soft looking fabric.
And in my hand - I have a terribly retro, age-old rifle gripped.
A water-colored eye in the large eye of a suspended slice length stares at something. Contrary to his adorable looks, he has a sharp eye like a raptor who sets his prey. Lips not wearing lipstick were closed in a grumpy way. I don't wear makeup myself.
Eventually, about 600 meters ahead of that gaze, a group of black clothes appears. At the heart of the five bodyguards in black is the bald obese old man.
"You piece of shit. Three hours behind schedule."
When poisoned with a high voice that often passes, the pretty girl sets up a rifle and sets the aim in sight. At the end of the line is the obese old man.
This rifle is - it's not just a hobby or an obsession, and I'm not using this old antiqued stuff. This rifle carries the curse of a maker. Intentionally cursed.
What is a curse? People - or spirits, by resentment or malice, make a disaster.
So what is a cursed weapon? Is the cursed weapon a curse on the weapon itself, or a curse on those who deal with the weapon, or a curse on those to whom the weapon is directed?
All the answers. At least in terms of the rifle the girl handles, it's all.
Pull the trigger. The curse resides in a bullet and is shot out.
The spearhead of the curse placed in the bullet, as it flies in, turns to those who are ahead of it.
The moment the bullet hits the chest directly, the target's brain spins fast.
Before dying, every memory rushes around instantaneously, like a running light, trying to explore the means to live out of memory, but the memory of an old man seeing a bullet in his chest is not like that. There are stories about running lanterns creating a sense of bliss, but there was nothing like it. Rather the other way around. The brain footage the old man saw like a running lantern was a nightmare itself.
Footage dating back to childhood, where the familiar appear next to next and come to kill themselves by various means. They have something in common. The ones who once hurt themselves. Or those who let them die.
This is the curse put in the rifle. At the moment of the shooter, only the number of overlapping sins is rewarded with brain footage, dying at the end of suffering, fear and despair.
For those who tried to take a person's life - or for those who took it, it is not enough that there is only one death fear and pain. Based on that concept, the girl uses this gun.
In a painful phase, the fat old man was finished. Its soul will not even travel to the underworld, but will continue to suffer even more by turning it into a grudging spirit. Freeing ourselves from suffering is a fairly long story away.
The price of the curse being put on the gun itself is not a big deal. At the time of handling this non-rifle, the shooter was cursed by a jealously insane rifle, to the extent that he would not shoot himself with another gun in his hand. We're just talking about not having to use another gun at last.
"Ma'am, there's a target over there."
"Dumb ass, dude. Although it would be too late to report. I just cleaned it up."
The girl returned a frustrating voice to the sinister man's voice echoing from the incense.
The black clothes make a scene. He will soon perceive his presence and come here, but the girl has no intention of escaping. It is a dignified welcome depression. But - I'm going to do as much as warn you before then.
A girl walks out of the bush into the street. The black clothes arrive.
"I'm Silver Storm Hall. Take the lead warrior, Sylvia Tanshita!
Before the black clothes put up their guns, the girl - Sylvia - gave her a high name, and called a giant object in an aport to the hands of those who did not have a rifle, and grabbed the handle.
Appearing suddenly in a space of nothing was a giant silver shield, over two metres high and over one metre horizontally.
Suddenly appeared a giant shield, and in the name of Silver Storm Hall, the five blackclothes men hesitated to shoot.
Many who live in the back streets, and the paranormal associates of this country, know the name of the Silver Storm Hall. A clan that provides more escorts than the world of Meiji. It is also at its peak as an escort organization in this country. Often employed by the state.
Silver Storm Hall is more than just a good escort. At the same time, assassins targeting escorts will find out who is releasing the assassins to the escort, and will be solemnly cleared. It is Silver Storm Hall's policy not to be a limited-time escort, but to fully protect the opponent, to perfectly fulfill the beginning and end of the life-targeter as well.
As a result, many people abstain from the targeted killing simply because Silver Storm Hall was hired by escorts. Those who refuse to do so when they learn that Silver Storm Hall has been escorted will make a hand-held offer to Silver Storm Hall and fulfill their vow that they will never reach out to the target again. Of course, if this oath is broken, it will also be subject to solemnity by Silver Storm Hall.
"Your employers are screwed already. Still willing to do it? Shut up and go around. If you're right, I'll miss you."
Sylvia asks five people in black.
The black clothes hesitated, but eventually decided and pulled out their guns simultaneously.
"Superior!
When she smiles invincibly and screams in a tall voice, Sylvia can focus on her whole body.
The body of a luxurious beautiful girl instantly swelled up. The neck, shoulders, arms, chest and all the muscles of the body exuberantly exuberant. That doesn't mean my clothes are bouncing. Including underwear, it's a special specification that can withstand it.
While surprised by Sylvia's physical changes, five black clothes shoot guns.
Shortly before that, Sylvia lifts her giant shield and points forward, preventing all bullets.
Three of the black clothes split left and right. People seem to be prevented by that shield they're about to enter, so if you don't turn around, you can't help shooting them from the front. And also assuming that Sylvia changed the angle of the shield, the two stay on the front.
The head of one man, who turned to the left, leaned wide to the side and about a third of his head was smashed. It's not Sylvia's fault.
The other four will keep an eye on the emergence of the novice.
A man in his late twenties and early thirties wearing a grey suit, middle-bodied middle meat, was wielding chains with his right hand. On his left hand is a sickle gripped. At the end of the chain on the right hand side is copper divided. It's a weapon called clam sickle.
"Deputy Warrior of Silver Storm Hall, Kurizo Tajima."
Kurizo introduces himself in a calm and sinister voice while turning the copper divider chain with one hand. He is a beautiful man with a tall nose and a sharp, carved face.
"Pass away!
Sylvia screams with the mood of tearing, two glances circling from the right, sticking out a giant shield with one hand.
As the shield stood, it blew horizontally with tremendous momentum and continued to jump the two stunned.
Each of them blows up in the air, making a stirring rotation in another direction, and falls to the ground.
The front is empty, but faster than the two men in the front, Sylvia shoots two rifles.
One shot was hit directly in the head of the black suit, but the other is reacted to and deflected. And the man who sent him shoots at Sylvia.
Sylvia reads the ballistics just before she is shot and moves small to the side to deflect.
Black clothes, which became the last of them, shoot even more. Now, Sylvia didn't try to flirt.
A giant shield that was supposed to have flown appeared in front of Sylvia again, preventing the bullet.
At the end of the black clothes, the bronze chain is released from Chestnut Three. The black clothes reacted and tried to avoid it, but as Chestnut Sans moved his hand with the chain quickly, the chain changed track along the way and the copper split flew into the back of the black clothes head, crushing its head.
"Decided."
When the copper was back on hand, Kurizo raised his hands wide at an odd angle, folding one leg and posing, whining with an intoxicating look.
"Always, always, always."
Sylvia poisons toward its chestnut three, erasing the Silver Storm Shield, an artifact that is passed down from generation to generation to the owner of the Silver Storm Hall.
"My hair doesn't look as good as I thought. There's no way you can expose me like that before your daughter. Even before those who go to death."
"Go to the hospital quickly."
To Kurizo, who puts his hand on his chin and says in a condescending tone, Sylvia showers a cold word, takes out her fingertip phone, displays the display and calls.
"It's over. Thanks for the info."
'I'll stay annoyed. But there's a lot going on over here.'
A strange intonation voice sounds like mechanical audio.
"I've been doing a lot of work over here lately, and I'm sorry I couldn't get my face inside."
'Not at all. If you're gonna do it, don't do it. I'm not doing anything to make you jerk off.'
"This is the main business, so I'll quit whenever I have to."
"I'm kidding. No, no, no, no, no. It's a saying-aya. Come on, come on."
The phone hung up. The opponent was a top executive of the intelligence organization O'MyRape, said to be the highest in the world. And Sylvia herself serves as a top executive of this organization and is also the head of the Silver Storm Hall.
"Tomorrow your daughter will be free, but do you want to go to O'Malley Rape's soon?
"I also need a vacation. I don't want to go because of Ebony's annoying attitude."
To Chestnut Three to confirm, Sylvia threw up her rifle in a disgusting face as she cased it.