My Beauty Variety: Starting from Banshee Town

The next morning.

A small podium was set up above the steps outside the City Council.

Gordon looked at the dozen supporters with disappointed expressions below and lowered the microphone bitterly: "Thank you very much for your support during this period."

"I didn't expect this news."

"However, in view of my personal health condition and the strong advice of my doctor, I made this difficult decision."

"Again, I am withdrawing from this election."

With barely a smile, he said softly: "Let me congratulate Mr. Ethan Morgan. I believe he has enough ability and enthusiasm to lead Banshee Town to continue to meet various challenges."

Sparse applause broke out.

"cheer up."

"You're a good mayor, don't do this."

"Have a good rest, good health is the most important thing!"

There are still a few nails in the rotten ship.

Gordon has been the mayor for two or three years, so it's not like he has no one who supports him. Many people at the scene cheered him on.

But the scattered sounds made the scene even more deserted.

After expressing his gratitude to his supporters, Gordon looked into the distance with emotion. The town council and the town hall actually belong to the same building, and there is a park in the middle of the street opposite the door steps.

There is a straight and spacious road leading out of the park.

A Ford pickup truck was parked on the side of the road, and the people inside seemed to be watching him.

Facing that direction, he nodded without any trace.

inside the car.

After Ethan made sure that the other party did not go back on his word, he immediately drove away in his vehicle, but instead of going to the campaign office, he went straight to the Banshee Town Police Station.

This time, he was a witness.

Last night's case was suppressed very well by Brock. Everything was just a conflict between elements on the road.

Even though many people died.

The death scene was also so tragic that it caused people to vomit.

But again, as long as ordinary people are not involved, no matter how brutally those Daoists beat them, the police will not escalate the situation.

Whether it's Chicago or Banshee.

The principle is the same.

Don't make it public, then the fewer these scum in society the better.

Arriving at the Banshee Town Police Station soon, Ethan walked up the steps easily. He had experienced so much, and what happened last night would not have any psychological impact on him.

"Mr. Morgan."

There were greetings one after another.

As the hottest guy in town these days, he gets this treatment wherever he goes now.

No matter who it was, he responded with the same standard smile.

When I walked into the lobby on the first floor, I met Bunker's eyes. The latter's expression was a little unnatural. It was hard to imagine that the person who did what he did last night was actually the refreshing guy in front of me.

Even though I was mentally prepared.

But I really didn't expect that Morgan would be even more unscrupulous and destructive than when he was in Banshee Town.

Soon, he regained his composure.

No matter what.

This person is on the same side as himself.

"Let's save those boring steps." Brock came down the stairs, frowning and said: "The main purpose of coming here this time is to let you recognize the person and confirm the identity of the deceased."

"This damn campaign office attack will be over!"

"Died out of nowhere."

The Sheriff threw the case file on the table and muttered dissatisfiedly: "I really gave those bastards an advantage."

Even if things are suppressed.

But after all, he was still fighting to the death on his territory, and Brock still felt a fire in his heart.

"That's right."

Ethan opened the case file and saw the photos taken last night. He slammed his fist on the table and said angrily: "This is the mother who messed with Fake. What happened?"

Chest keeps rising and falling.

The whole person looked quite indignant.

Bunker's eyes twitched slightly, and he told what happened last night in a leisurely manner.

But he knew that no one knew what was going on in that factory better than this guy who was pretending to be angry.

"okay."

Brock patted Ethan on the shoulder and comforted him helplessly: "If you guessed correctly, those white supremacists must have provoked some enemies. Everyone is dead, so don't take it to heart."

"Then what else can we do?"

Ethan curled his lips and waved helplessly.

"Bunker."

At this moment, Siobhan's trembling voice came from the intercom on the table next to him: "There has been a murder near Dave's farm. Call the Sheriff. I think you all need to come over and take a look."

"Jesus, I swear."

"If it hadn't been for what happened last night, I'd never seen anything like this."

Several people here looked at each other in surprise that something like last night could happen!

Brock and the others immediately walked outside.

Being idle is also idle.

Now that the victory is determined, there is no need to maintain that high-intensity vote-seeking.

Ethan was also curious about what was going on, so he got into the pickup truck and drove with them to the location Siobhan said.

Suburbs of town.

Follow the patrol car and drive quickly along the country road.

Surrounded by vast winter countryside, the vast wasteland on the left is covered with thick snow like a carpet, dotted with scattered trees.

On the right is a dense forest.

About twenty meters high, trees hugged by two people can be seen everywhere.

From time to time, birds fly over the treetops, which is a refreshing sight.

After a while, I saw about ten cars in front of me.

Two policewomen, Siobhan and Cruz, pulled up the cordon tape and waved the townspeople away.

Different from last night.

Things in the factory can be handled neatly.

It won't attract much attention except from the relevant people, but it's different here. Although the place is remote, it is still next to the road after all.

Therefore, many people still come to watch the fun.

The degree of attention is naturally different.

With a turn of the steering wheel, the Ford pickup truck drove off the road and stopped on the hillside next to it.

Close the door and get off.

Ethan first said hello to a few familiar townspeople, and then followed Brock towards the big tree surrounded by the warning tape. As he walked, he noticed a few eyes falling on him.

Vaguely, I also felt a hint of hostility.

He frowned and looked in that direction, only to see a few white men leaning on a pickup truck, watching the excitement.

These people seem to have an inexplicable intimidating power.

None of the nearby townspeople wanted to approach these guys and were very afraid of them.

The man surrounded in the middle has short blond hair.

Ice blue eyes.

The burly figure looks quite imposing.

Watts!

Of course, Ethan knew about his opponent, and he recognized this guy at a glance, and the opponent obviously also recognized him.

You could tell Watts was in a bad mood.

But he still managed a kind smile and nodded to himself.

The hostility radiated from the well-behaved man standing next to him. There was a hint of Bunker in this guy's face.

Ethan twitched his lips and continued walking forward.

Bunker, on the other hand, stopped.

He clasped his duty belt firmly with both hands and looked at his former companions expressionlessly.

"Farke."

Parting the crowd, Brock let out a low curse.

I saw half a white man tied to a tree trunk with iron chains, his head drooping, and a layer of snow floating on his clothes.

The reason why is half.

Because the white man was torn off at the waist, and his legs were five or six meters away from the tree trunk.

The distance in the middle is an aisle paved with minced meat and red ice crystals. This tragic trail that was dragged out shines coquettishly in the sunlight. (End of chapter)