Super Detective in the Fictional World

“John Wick.” The old voice sounded and Sloane's figure appeared in the tall window behind the city wall.

Sloane looked down and looked down at someone, equally indifferent: "What are you trying to say? ”

Luke said, "I just came to tell you one thing. ”

In the mutual aid club, nobody gives a shit.

Luke is a little sorry: these characters are unprofessional, and nobody asked “what”.

Add yourself to the show, and he still keeps John's classic calm face.JPG: “Whoever kills me, I'll kill his family. ”

Sloane: …

Named killers: …

Guards: …

A lot of people come up with the idea that we, this is being threatened face to face? Or at home, threatened by a man?

This is so... sapris, mayhem fako!

Sloane's eyes flashed, but there was no expression, just a faint command to: "Kill him. ”

The sound dropped and the gunshot burst.

The guards from all over the castle opened fire almost entirely and the bullet storm swept into the open space in front of the door.

Sloane still stood quietly in the tall window, and the name killers just pulled out their guns, but no one fired.

They're not those, they're arrogant enough.

There's only one person.

Even John, the recently infamous Night Demon, is not eligible to join them.

Dozens of guards started the attack, and they didn't want to lose their part in the siege.

The next moment, their faces changed.

There was no one in front of the door where the bullets flew, and the Night Demon disappeared in front of all eyes.

This kind of disappearance is weird, and it just seems to blink, and people are gone.

But who are they?

They are known as Mutual Associations killers and are naturally far beyond the reach of ordinary people in terms of reaction and dynamic vision.

All along, only they rely on their super strength to suddenly disappear in front of their opponents.

Now, someone has played this hand in front of them.

At this moment, even the higher Sloane's face changed.

He remembered the night wolves and doves that had just died, two to one, and died so silently.

The news came from John the Night Demon.

“Everybody don't let go, just kill him.” Sloane's voice was so high that even a dense gunshot could not conceal it.

The order was given, and everyone, including the name killer, knew that that was what it meant to have to kill each other.

Soon, the lights lit up everywhere in the castle, and large areas of darkness became daylight.

In the textile factory building, the workers who were notified took out their guns and turned themselves into killers.

Pfft, pfft, pfft!

The gunshot exploded and instantly rang in the factory building.

Blood arrows burst out of ordinary killers lined up to pick up guns in the gun room, shouting four times, and a string of people fell, like a platoon of stranded blood gourds.

The figure in the black suit appeared in the factory sometime, holding an MP7 with each hand.

Luke rarely used the MP7 at first sight in the face of the common killers gathered like these little chicks.

Its shell capacity of up to 40 rounds is powerful and persistent, and the killers who took the guns were shot in line and shot in the head one by one.

This time, Luke didn't use any more Mozambican shooting.

Two bullets to kill an enemy, too slow.

Shoot him in the chest, too slow.

All killers were shot in the head, without exception.

Within 10 meters, Luke uses either an MP7 or a Glock that doesn't make much difference, has too much control, and kills only as fast as he switches targets.

Also outside the castle, the name killers did not return immediately, and the four closest to the factory simultaneously activated a physical explosion and rushed in within two seconds.

In their gaze, they happened to see Luke's hands loose, leaving two MP7s to fall, his hands swept across the sides of his waist like a phantom, and two Glocks reappeared.

Four newly rushed name killers saw these two glocks and suddenly their pupils shrunk.

The overgrown magazine underneath the handle is obvious, no doubt a specially made magazine, most likely the kind of psychopath with 33 rounds.

Plus Glock's shooting speed, it's enough to use it as a microflush at close range.

Pfft, pfft, pfft!

Just as they watched, two Glock guns burst out of flames far beyond ordinary pistols and instantly fired deadly fire.

The ordinary killers in this factory were washed out of MP7 blood, and another group of ordinary killers burst out of several passages.

They were from the factory and immediately came when they heard the gunshots.

Their portals are usually also used for freight and are so spacious that they can easily get into a large truck.

Five or six meters wide allows these killers to infiltrate very quickly, like a broken nest of ants, crawling into a huge crowd.

Then they hit two prolonged magazines, Glock's fierce fire.

These are elite killers among ordinary people, who can't even see Luke's shadow clearly, jump into the streets instantly.

None of the killers were able to rush into the corridor for five metres, and they were all killed there, stacked, fragile like straw under an old farmer's sickle.

Only a few of the killers who landed a little later staggered this second-breaking mess and hid on the side of the aisle in a cold sweat, with no courage to look up.

Boom, boom, boom!

Before Glock's final shooting was complete, the four named killers finally launched their first offensive with one shot each.

These powerful, old-fashioned, named killers are far more powerful than the average old men who killed them the other day.

As they rush in, they automatically disperse, entering simultaneously from four directions, trying to keep the opponent busy.

Luke reacted unexpectedly.

When the four bullets fired, Glock in his hands still hadn't changed direction and stubbornly shot the last seven or eight ordinary killers in the head.

As the bullet flew in, his figure blurred in the eyes of the four men and appeared two metres away.

Four people encountered new problems with precise shooting techniques.

Because it's too precise, these four rounds can never be two meters away, and Luke is naturally unharmed.

At that point, the two Glocks in his hand finally went into a blank hanging state.

Luke loosened his hands again and Glock began to fall.

Two guns fell between his waists and his hands crossed again into his armpit.

When the two guns landed on his thigh, he had two more guns in his hand.

This time, it's finally no longer Glock the Magazine, it's two P226 modifications.

In fact, in the short time he had thrown his gun away, he had managed to dodge the four bullets fired and pulled out the hidden remnants in the air, rapidly forcing two people closer to the factory building.

Pfft, pfft, pfft!

In the face of Luke's sudden strange velocity, the two men were shocked, but did not panic immediately, and several rounds of bullets were fired on his approaching route.