Two days have passed since the Horse Farm's article on coverage of Kate appeared.
(The desk wrote a shitty article that made it harder for Kate to be flexible...? Was it a failure to file the Seven Grass Cases......)
The Kate interview article in the morning shitty newspaper was a terrible computational difference to try from hepatic cedar. I didn't expect to be able to finish such a futile article.
If it fails, the hepatic cedar thinks it has to be a souvenir to the Border Ilane Correspondents with another form of achievement. To that end, Hepatic Cedar has asked her supporters to speak up and gather information.
Hepatic cedars are known to have a number of supporters, like surroundings.
Those surrounding them are similar in character to hepatic cedars. Basically, the sexual roots are twisted, and the world's events, as well as humans themselves, can only be viewed in a twisted way. I can only see it with colored glasses. I love the downward looking gossip, I love rumor stories whether it's a lie or an unknown provenance, and I love the apoptosis of others.
From them like that, I can sincerely enjoy an article written by a man like Hepatic Cedar, and Hepatic Cedar looks like a hero.
They had a lot of information going on against Hepatic Cedar, and when Hepatic Cedar appeared on TV, they put on support, and they went out for drinks with Hepatic Cedar, and they were totally broken up with Hepatic Cedar.
But while the liver cedar felt good surrounded by those surroundings, at the bottom of his belly he was constantly looking down on them, and he only thinks like a tool.
Even when the border Iranese press corps called me out, I was wondering for a while what to do with them. Open it up and let us cooperate, or leave it unannounced. The Border Ilane press corps was told that if they were trustworthy collaborators, they wouldn't mind revealing, but that if the information was made public, all responsibility would be taken by themselves. That's why I was lost.
In the end, I wanted to be bragged by them and be impressed, but I was exposed lightly in the booze seat, but so far there is no particular negative impact.
One of the surrounding horse farms is also a reporter of morning shit, and the most usable man, but I don't trust him much else.
But as an informant, I'm comfortable. He has delivered good quality stories many times before.
Also this time, one of the supporters grabbed extremely powerful information. He came into contact with someone who was Van Damme's concealer. Besides, he even set me up for an interview.
I was glad to connect with the Border Irane press corps to let them know that I was moving to defeat Van Damme, and I felt no doubt at this time that I was right.
The Van Dam concealer and they saw an interview article with Kate at the stable and thought they wanted to make a cumming out of it. He then contacted his supporters, a face-wide circumstance, and contacted Hepatic Cedar.
I thought I'd let him go to the stable again, but he contacted me that day that he couldn't move in with another job, and Hepatic Cedar decided to go.
It was the abandoned building that Hepatic Cedar visited. Hepatic Cedar was surprised to see if he would do Itanview in a place like this, and before entering, he calls the supporters he has put in contact with and confirms it again. Quite cautious.
'Yes, definitely. I'm waiting with Van Damme's son right now. I really don't want anyone else to see me, so I'm going to pick a place that's thorough and invisible to people, and they're going to be here. "
My supporters respond. I was concerned that the voice was a little distant, but the supporters were inside, and I wondered if I would come this far and turn back, and even though I was suspicious, I would go inside the building.
A strange odor struck the nose of the liver cedar as he walked inside the abandoned building and approached the stairs. It stinks badly. I don't know what the hell you burned, but I've never smelled it before, but it drifts through the building.
(Something sucks...)
It was then when he felt in danger and turned his heels back to go out of the building.
People were falling to lie down in the hallway. In the hallway I've been walking in, sometime.
I first notice that there is something wrong with the head of the one who is falling. It's black. No, it's red everywhere.
Keep your eyes peeled carefully to see what it's like. Only my head is burned. I know this is the source of the smell. The smell of people's meat burning.
"I like horror, but it's only about fiction. This imitation in real life... stop it."
To distract the fear, whine out loud. There was resistance, but he slips by the side of the body and walks down the aisle. If we don't go ahead, we can't go outside.
Hepatic cedar, who witnessed the murder and then had a feeling that the murderer was nearby, ran out as soon as he slipped through the body.
It was then that the liver cedar came to the lobby in an attempt to get out of the building.
All over the lobby, there was a small explosion to keep standing. explosions, rising smoke, and blasts. There is dust on the entrance as well.
Seeing it, Hepatic Cedar hastily turns back inside the building, saying she must not be caught in the explosion. I don't even have the consciousness that I'm being guided, and I instinctively desperately escape danger anyway.
The earlier body came into the rolling hallway and the hepatic cedar leg stopped. Let fear catch your face.
There were more similar bodies in two. The other one was only burned from the neck to the top. Besides, he looked familiar in the shape and outfit of another corpse.
That was one of the supporters of Hepatic Cedar. A man with a tail, always wearing all green clothes, and a largely determined pattern of clothes. Definitely.
Over the two corpses, I finally realized at this time what happened to the liver cedar. He said he was being framed now and he was being hunted down. Someone's threatening my life.
I get a call for Hepatic Cedar. It's from a supporter I called in here.
"Hey, you're safe, what happened..."
"Help me. Eh! Mr. Hepatic Cedar! Gube! '
"Hey, hello... hello!
When I thought I had screamed, I heard a creepy voice, and that was clear.
"Hih!?
Like dropping metal from behind, there's a loud noise, and the liver cedar trembles and screams.
Shisha, Shisha, something just sounded and approached me. But I don't see anything in the hallway.
The hepatic cedar, who felt invisible but approached himself, rushed away from the spot feeling dangerous.
I ran down the hallway and turned to the stairs. That's when I saw what was arranged on the stairs, and I was stunned.
Three raw heads. Now it's not even burnt. So I can see clearly. All three were supporters.
Metal sounds looming. The liver cedar is driven by fear and goes up the stairs.
Upstairs, Hepatic Cedar will be shown several bodies again today. A corpse that dyed his abdomen red and fell. No, it's not a body. Still alive. I'm cramped. Moving his eyes, he looks at the liver cedar crying, and reaches out as if he begs for help toward the liver cedar as he blows a bump and blood bubble out of his mouth.
He was a supporter who called Hepatic Cedar here.
"What happened... What the hell is this all about!?
A hepatic cedar that lets supporters, who are bug breaths, have a blame-sounding voice.
Eventually, the force fell out of his body, and his extended hand fell to the floor.
There was a sound of metal shifting.
"Hih!?
A nearby door opened from the inside. And I saw the door open.
"Come here quickly."
It takes a calm voice. There was someone in the door.
"You can stay on the spot if you want to die."
That's what they say and the door tries to shut.
"Ma, stay!
I don't know who the hell you are, but believe me you're on my side, I need to hurry inside the door, hepatic cedar to dash.
I walked into the room in the door and Hepatic Cedar was out of line again.
With him sitting in a chair, tied with rope and restrained, there was the appearance of Lord Saba Jiro. There are also monkeys in the mouth.
"Why did you think I was on your side?
On its hepatic cedar head, something metallic pressed and a teasing voice.
"You can look over here. You can make funny moves. If you're ready to die."
"Oh, you..."
Turning to the voice, there was a skinny man who looked familiar.
The writer's dog breeder Ichi. He was previously beaten by Hepatic Cedar in a scattered book review.
"You know what a face-burning Shirley is? Yasuse taught me that there are witches who only burn people's faces and kill them. Hey, I tried to imitate that, but how'd it go?
Dog breeder talking with a slight laugh. The gun is held in its hand and the muzzle is directed at the hepatic cedar.
"You want to know how I caught these guys? No, I'm not good at violence or anything, am I? That's why I used my head. Even a weak, stinking man like me can do it with the least amount of power."
I could also understand that hepatic cedar would mean the supporters killed, including the stable here. This man killed everything, and now he's threatening his own life, too.
I had the information organization O'Myrape look into all the liver cedar supporters and their contacts, and the dog owners were contacting me from one end.
"Your supporters have come here without any doubt. He wants to cooperate with Hepatic Cedar. You're popular. I've been admired so much. You can praise me there. It made it easier for me, too."
The dog keeper says it sounds crazy. The hepatic cedar is half-stopped in fear and remains trembling.
"You know, the majority of the criticisms in my novel were abominations that I don't even know if I've read or not, but there was only one, obviously, criticism that I've read. Yes... it's about depicting people burning to death."
Keeping the muzzle pointed at the hepatic cedar, the dog keeps talking with a smile.
"Sure it was written this way?" The depiction of burning people to death is too vivid and disgusting. I really imagine it. I wonder if this author actually burns and kills dogs and cats alive, sees and references them, and depicts them. And I assume you're the owner of such an unusual sexuality, 'was that a sentence like this? This is the only place you've been sifted. I can appreciate you. "
It's not a hepatic cedar that doesn't know why a dog owner is mouthing a dialogue like this and what's behind that dialogue.
"That's half off with half a hit. It's because I'm actually burning it to death. No, really wise eyes. Maybe I was just appropriately busted, but still, half of it's a hit. What's hazy is that it wasn't the dog or the cat that was burning to death. Such a pathetic thing, there's no way you can do it. I can't believe I burned an innocent animal alive."
Then I don't even have to ask what you killed. Between now and here already, Hepatic Cedar has seen the answer as well.
"You're not the one who wrote that book review. I remember the same thing, so it makes sense."
"What?"
Hepatic cedar inadvertently leaks a surprising voice into words that don't make sense.
"You're a two-year-old clone. Oh, you won't believe it, so you don't have to. And the belly, by the way. He looks older than you, but he's your age, too. A two-year-old."
With that said, the dog owner lowered the muzzle he was pointing at the liver cedar.
Relaxed liver cedar. I don't have the idea of taking a risk and jumping if I do. There is no guarantee that we can win.
The gunshot sounded and the liver cedar stiffened.
The dog owner shot was a horse farm tied to a chair.
"I'm sorry to hear about it, even though I was able to revamp it thanks to Kate - is that it? No, that's not true, is it?
Shoot him in the abdomen so he doesn't die instantly, and the dog keeper stares at the dying stable and talks.
"If you die, you can be a hero, okay? The newspaper you belong to will continue to write about your death as a story of omama and masturbation for decades to come. As an abominable anniversary of the unforgivable violence that claimed the life of a distinguished journalist. And I don't give in to violence, but every year another reporter replaces me and writes articles that I can't help. Become a routine event. Best honor for you, isn't it? Ah... but when you think about it, let the vendor take care of the body, and treat it like it's missing? Too bad, after all. Honorable own reporter killed, no anniversary."
That's all I said, the dog owner turns to the liver cedar again from the stables that ran out in the middle of the conversation.
"Hih...!
Trembling liver cedar, trembling heavily at the fat on his face.
"By the way - you say pens are stronger than swords, right? Would you let me put that into practice in this situation now?
The dog owner demands the liver cedar as he gently wields a fluttering gun of nitrous smoke.
"I'm not making fun of you. Seriously. The power of the pen - that is, the power of letting people wield their hearts, to move my heart and get out of this situation. Can't you do that? And I want to correct another mistake, because I don't want to kill people and I don't like them."
"Hey, what's the demand... Threaten me to do a horror show so far... is there something...?
With hopeful observations, Hepatic Cedar says with a crying face. This is the best I can do.
Maybe it's just a grudge, the killing itself. We also know that if it were, it would be over.
"The conversation was quick and helpful, but it wasn't funny, and my heart didn't shake. Well, it's questioning. You think it's true that pens are stronger than swords?
The dog keeper, as he says, points the gun at the hepatic cedar again.
"With a pen... on the sword... you can't possibly win..."
When he answered with a sweeping voice, Hepatic Cedar came to the scene and noticed that he had drained the liquid from his groin much earlier.
"I, the novelist whose pen is supposed to be a weapon, use my sword. No, I don't know how."
Looking down at the heartbroken liver cedar, a dog owner with a gun shrugged with a sarcastic grin.