Super Detective in the Fictional World

The same big back of the suit, Mr. X with a cold face, was caught by Luke and given to Rebecca for disposal.

Rebecca gave this Mr. X a fire bird, and his death was a disgrace to the mutual aid club.

Wesley recognized him as his father and swore to avenge him.

Luke, this kind of thing has nothing to do with people who are tall and hung up, and they can't keep watching: are you ignoring that stupid kid like this, really big husband?

Mutual Aid also has more than twenty named killers, hundreds of ordinary members, face a cross without even the courage to face the battle, but only dare to fish with their sons.

Mutual Aid, it's really corrupt.

In relative terms, Luke is more interested in the man of the cross.

Instead of looking at the fighting power of the cross, the cross, after realizing that Sloane had killed under the name of the Fateful Fabric Machine, reversed the Mutual Aid Society and completely annihilated the group of killers.

Even though he may have killed innocent people before, Luke had to look up to the belief that he would drag Mutual Aid to hell.

Acknowledging mistakes is something that most people in the world can't do.

It's like being a barber on the Internet, and even if you know you're wrong, most people prefer to argue all the time. If you lose, you disappear decisively, and you never simply say “I'm wrong”.

Leverage is just an online debate, with no stakes and no willingness to admit mistakes.

And the cross not only recognizes its own mistakes, but also acts physically and personally to make up for them.

People who dare to say it is simple and can do it are rarely seen.

And for that reason, Luke didn't want to see the cross die in the hands of his son Wesley, which would be the worst tragedy for his unlucky father and son.

Well, let's brush the mutual aid club first! He made up his mind.

After all, the Mutual Aid Society cannot help but kill the traitor of the Cross immediately, and as long as there is definite news of the Cross, they will surely be anxious to jump out.

……

In recent months, Wesley-Gibson felt his life had reached its peak.

In the office, he scolded the director, Fatty, and as soon as the keyboard fanned himself a "good buddy” Barry with the hat on, he resigned and waved without taking a keyboard.

But then again, he enjoyed pain like never before in his life.

Shooting, fighting, being tortured and brutally beaten finally made him a tough man.

In addition, more than two million in deposits from bank cards, as well as charming firefoxes, kept him out of the picture.

Money, strength, women, in control.

Well, the Firefox is not within his control, but this woman is actually guiding him in his studies.

Today, he finally has a mission, a mission that he was destined to carry out from the moment he entered the mutual aid club - the hunting of the cross.

His own father, Mr. X, who died before he was masked, was killed by the cross.

But he didn't have much resentment for this mutually helpful traitor.

Or just because someone tells him he should hate the cross, deep down he feels more just curious.

The cross is really too strong.

Even after repeated cautions, two more names of Mutual Aid killers have died in his hands over the past few months.

Firefoxes, gunsmiths, manipulators, butchers, they can't help him, they can only put their hopes on Wesley, the newcomer.

To deal with this powerful opponent, Wesley's body was slightly chestnut, and he couldn't help but accelerate his heart, almost automatically entering a performance outburst.

But before he can carry out this most important task, he needs to finish something.

Firefox leans against the wall of the passage: "Five minutes. ”

Wesley laughed easily: "Two minutes should be enough. ”

He smashed the door with his fist.

The men and women in the room who were dying talked, and a man asked, “Who is it? ”

Wesley didn't answer, he just knocked harder, slammed the door, and the dust on the door frame was falling off.

The man shouted with dissatisfaction: "Damn, you're fucking sick. ”

The footsteps rang and the door opened with a five-centimetre stitch. A young man's face appeared and looked at him in surprise: "Wesley? Where are you going...”

Suddenly, he came back to God and moved his untied body out of the door: “Haha, it's so good to see you, I've taken good care of Cathy for you over the past few months...”

Wesley had no expression on his face, slammed his hands on the door, prevented the chain from breaking instantly, and the door slammed heavily on the man's face, blooming his face and pouring it backwards.

Wesley walked into the door, ignoring the man lying on the floor, and walked toward the bathroom.

A moment later, he came out with an opaque plastic bag in his hand, containing the gun he had last hidden in the toilet water tank.

Walking into the bedroom, he kicked open the half-covered door, and the woman lying there looked at him and said, "Barry, uh, Wesley? You're back? ”

Wesley swept her similarly untied and walked straight to the nightstand, opening the drawer and removing a small box from the innermost.

When he opened it and looked at it, the simple photo album containing his mother's photograph was still there, he closed the lid, put it in his arms and got up and left.

The woman was a bit obsessed, but quickly came back to God and climbed up and chased her out: "Wesley, you piece of shit, disappeared for months back... ah, you hit Barry? You think you're some kind of big shot, you're still that stinking piece of shit that doesn't even fart. Barry's twice as strong in bed as you are. No, he's more than twice as strong. Hey, put Annabelle down, it's mine. ”

Holding the white cat in her hand, Wesley turned her back on her face and smiled: I left my good brother Barry to you, and it was fair that your Annabelle belonged to me.

He's learned that he doesn't care about the vicious language behind his bitch ex-girlfriend Cathy, he's himself.

The fire fox outside the door rolled a white eye, turned around and walked in, welcoming Wesley, hugging him was a French kiss.

My ex-girlfriend, Cathy, lived there, and a moment later she was incredibly shouting, “Where did this come from, Beatrice? Have you fallen into spending money to satisfy your poor pride? ”

Firefox let Wesley go and pulled him out the door.

As she walked to the door, she grabbed a football by the door and threw it backwards at will.

Boom.

Cathy stopped talking viciously, and, like Barry, the female stepmother, bled his mouth and nose, paralyzing straight to the ground.

This woman's nasty language is a little unbearable to her.

Wesley's ability to keep this woman alive is not intolerable, but a total disregard for each other.

Walking out the door, the Firefox looked at the white cat he was holding: "Yours? ”

Wesley smiled, “It was hers, but it's mine now. ”

“Then I'll find a car.” Firefox shrugged his shoulders and never thought he'd help someone grab a cat and have to get it back.