Super Detective in the Fictional World

The roadside of the slums is full of people.

Old and young men and women of all colours dress casually, slippers shorts and vests look a little like China many years ago.

There's a lot going on under their asses, Maza, plastic chairs, benches, everything.

They were there, chatting, drinking, eating, doing housework in their hands.

There are also a lot of kids hanging out, and balls are their most common toys.

Even with a small piece of flat ground, a few kids can have fun surrounding a ball there.

Football kingdom! Luke sighed in his heart and moved on.

To tell you the truth, it's not much worse than the slums of Los Angeles, and the messy environment is half full of shit.

Los Angeles' viaducts are bound to have people pulling their own plastic sheds, and there are plenty of people sleeping on the side of the main road in the bustling areas, at least there are houses.

No money, slums everywhere.

Luke soon walked into a twisted alley.

This alley is about a metre wide enough for two people to cross their shoulders.

It twists and stretches back and forth in a building room, close to the building walls on both sides, making the space extremely narrow and constricting.

Luke walked into the alley for dozens of meters, behind him, in the building and in the window, and quietly poked out a head.

On the road ahead of him, four or five young men also came out.

These young men are pale, unclean and even have their heads on their bare arms.

But they almost all had guns in their hands, a little further up on the roof, and a few more with rifles.

They were silent, surrounded by silence and seemed to want to wait for him to speak.

Luke grinned: “I want someone. ”

The young man with bare arms measured him: "We are not cops. ”

Luke laughed more happily: "Yes, that's why I'm here. ”

The young man with bare arms looked at him suspiciously.

Luke had put on a little makeup and added a big mustache to make him look less tender, but the temperament was quite different from those people's.

He slowly pulled a pile of green oil money out of his backpack with a smile and threw it away: “Here's the deposit. Whether you can help me or not, this money is yours. ”

The eyes of a group of people around them turned green with the bills.

The people here, who are far more sensitive to banknotes than ordinary people, can't help but swallow the saliva —— that's a hundred dollar knife.

If it's all stacked, it's at least 10,000 dollars.

Definitely a lot of money for these people.

The young man with bare arms subconsciously caught the stack of knives and quickly crossed it with his thumb and index finger, making sure it wasn't fake money, and the money inside was 100 denominations, and his face was doubtful.

“You wait.” He said, holding the stack of knives, he went into the room next to him.

Luke wasn't in a hurry, he pulled it off in his little backpack and a chocolate cream lollipop appeared in his hand.

He slowly peeled off the sugar paper and stuffed it in his mouth.

His face was perfectly delightful and strange to see a group of people staring at him.

Surrounded by dozens of gunmen, people who can still be so calm are either psychotic or have gas.

He felt a gaze not far away, a relatively young man.

Fourteen or five years old, or even a boy, licking his lips.

Luke grinned, “You want some too? ”

Half of the boys nodded unconsciously, but instantly noticed something wrong and shook their heads.

Luke smiled softly, grabbed another lollipop in his little backpack and threw it away: “What are you afraid of? Can't a man eat candy? ”

The big boy had to catch the flying lollipop.

There's nothing to say about the strange crowd around.

Isn't there a guy in front of you who's still eating sugar, surrounded by dozens of guns? Who dares say he's not a man!

Of course, wait a minute. This very man can't die, or how miserable he is, that's the other thing.

Less than five minutes later, the young man with bare arms appeared from the other roof and made a gesture to the following person: "Bring him up. ”

The surrounding heads sneaked into the house next door.

Only two young men had guns pointed at him, one leading the way in the front and the other holding his backpack, indicating that he was following the other.

Luke didn't feel comfortable, holding his hands in his trousers pockets and following along.

The little backpack also contains some food and candy, nothing else.

Before he got in here, everything was in storage, and that little backpack was a cover for the eyes and ears.

The reason they only took the bag without searching was because he had a long sleeve thin shirt with a fitted vest and an equally lightweight fitted sweatpant underneath.

Don't talk about hiding guns in this outfit, even a knife will highlight its shape.

From that trail, several turns were bypassed, into a very small courtyard, up a small, steep staircase on the edge, to a platform with a shed.

The environment is still plain, but there's beer, food, and fresh sea breezes.

Apart from no beauty, no beach, and the smell of bad smell, this place is comfortable.

A middle-aged man with various patterns on his body sat on a beach chair, behind him were two strong men with rifles.

The young man with the bare arms who brought Luke here, and the two young men who brought him here, stood behind Luke with the same gun in his hand.

“What do you want?” The middle-aged man with the tattoo asked politely.

Luke: "Ask someone. ”

Tattoo Middle Age: “Who? ”

Luke pulled a picture out of his shirt pocket and threw it on a small table in front of his middle-aged man with a tattoo: "Lisa Von. A Mexican woman doctor. ”

Tattooed middle-aged eyebrows, took the photo on the small table and looked, squinting: “I've never seen this man. ”

Luke said, “Well, excuse me, goodbye. ”

As the tattoo raised its hand in the middle of the year, the guns of several people around it pointed at Luke.

“You don't seem to know what this place is or who I am!” The tattooed middle-aged man stood up and had an extra M1911 in his hand: "Now, hand over your money, your credit card, and your password. ”

Luke picks the eyebrows: “Is this a robbery? ”

The tattooed middle-aged man laughed: "No, it's tuition. Learn how to live in Rio. ”

Luke twisted his head and said, “So you're not going to kill me? ”

The tattoo middle-aged didn't answer, just made a gesture, and two young men came up behind Luke to grab his hands.

Luke sighed: "Money doesn't make money, you have to rob it. The local club is so rude! ”

In the talking room, he stepped forward and walked a few meters away to the tattooed middle age.