My Beauty Variety: Starting from Banshee Town

The empty bullet casing fell to the ground, and Hood's nervous mood relaxed.

The fatal thing must have been obtained by Ethan.

Phillips was stunned for a moment when he heard what he said, but then saw the dark blue uniform on him, and then smiled and shook his head.

It was obvious that the town police officer in front of him already knew Hood's identity.

The three people walked towards the road like a defeated army.

Except for Ethan, Hood and Phillips were covered in blood.

Especially Phillips, who was sweating all over from digging a hole just now and was covered in blood, looking extremely embarrassed.

But the worst thing was that Hood was knocked unconscious by the electric shock glove.

He still feels a little difficult to breathe, and the smell of blood is in his nose.

Returning to the truck, Phillips' eyes twitched when he saw Brantley nailed to the sofa.

Ethan stepped forward, reached out and pulled out the cane with force.

Phillips looked at him with admiration. He originally thought it was Hood's ultimate counterattack, but now it seems that it is obviously not the case.

Brantley's head dropped, no longer as fierce as before.

The shadow that enveloped Ethan's heart immediately dissipated, and he felt relaxed as if a shackle had been opened.

"Catch it."

Ethan threw the cane to Phillips: "You should be able to handle the things here, right?"

"you mean?"

Phillips caught the cane and pointed at himself: "Are you going to give me all the credit?"

He knew that Hood would definitely not dare to take the credit, but Ethan obviously had no such concerns.

"All the credit goes to you."

Ethan patted Phillips on the shoulder: "As a deal, if the story is rounded out, we can take out the two of us. Is there any problem?"

"No problem at all."

Philip suddenly beamed with joy. It was a day of ups and downs. Who would have thought that while saving his life, he could also make a great contribution.

The three of them searched in the car and soon found all their equipment and personal belongings.

When Phillips returned Hood's police badge and pistol to him, he solemnly warned him not to take chances. This time it was luck, but you can't always rely on luck.

Phillips turned a blind eye to the exquisite double-barreled shotgun that Ethan had been carrying on his back.

People have given such a large share of the credit to themselves, so why not play with a double-barreled shotgun?

If he wasn't afraid that losing too many things would cause trouble for him, he wouldn't even mind if Ethan moved all of Brantley's collection.

Before leaving, Ethan also exchanged phone calls with Phillips.

Knowing a special agent who knows the basics is also a resource, which may be useful in the future.

Their current location has left Banshee Town.

Ethan drove the off-road motorcycle and drove Hood all the way back.

Next to the barn, as soon as the sound of the motorcycle engine died down, Candy walked quickly out of the back door of the bar.

Seeing the two of them with bruises and swollen faces, Candy asked in surprise:

"I just saw a police car parked outside, but no one could be found. What's wrong with you?"

Hood waved his hand and staggered up to the second floor of the barn.

After this time, the thought of leaving Banshee Town kept growing in his mind. Since Felix came to visit him, it proved that it was no longer safe here.

He just wants to be alone for a while and think about what to do next.

Ethan looked at his forehead with the motorcycle rearview mirror. The wound had stopped bleeding, but there was still a bulge.

He lit a cigarette and told Candy what happened.

Candy sighed heavily and took off his hat: "Maybe, he really needs to leave."

"It's up to him."

Ethan took out the motorcycle key and threw it to Candy: "I'll give this car to you. If you deal with it casually, it will be enough for you to sell a batch of wine."

"Really?"

"Don't want it?" Ethan pretended to get the key back.

"of course not."

Candy quickly took the key and excitedly reached out to touch the handle of the motorcycle.

Ethan didn't know the brand either, but looking at Brantley and his gang, they wouldn't use bargains. Even if it could only be sold for one or two thousand dollars, it would still be worth the candy and drinks.

After smelling the smell of blood and gunpowder smoke on his body, he said hello to Candy and drove home to take a shower.

Redbone Gang camp.

Tommy Littlestone stood behind the white line holding an AK47, pointing at the beer bottles in the distance and pulling the trigger one after another.

After several days of practice, my marksmanship has improved a lot.

Looking at the beer bottle that he shot to pieces, Tommy felt that he was okay again.

After practicing his marksmanship for a while, he put down the gun in frustration and walked to a table nearby to sit down.

There are a few nails in a rotten ship, not to mention he is Cheton's younger brother.

Under Tommy's command, there was also a group of younger brothers surrounding him.

Seeing Tommy's low energy, a flowerhead handed him a bottle of beer:

"what's on your mind?"

Tommy took off the beer cap with a straight face: "It doesn't matter how good your marksmanship is, it's still not like shooting here every day."

The colorful turban patted Tommy on the shoulder: "Don't worry, Cheton asked us to grab so many guns. It's not for nothing. Sooner or later we will deal with Proctor again."

At the mention of Proctor, Tommy felt angry, and he slammed the beer bottle in his hand to the ground:

"If I had been there last time, Proctor would have been dead."

When talking about what happened in the past two days, several people sitting around the table looked down. The younger brothers who could follow Tommy were all seventeen or eighteen years old.

These people started talking one after another when they didn't know the heights of the sky.

As for the failure of the operation, I just think that the few people who went there were not good enough.

If you switch to it yourself, I guarantee there will be no problem.

The more Tommy listened, the more annoyed he became. He picked up the AK47, loaded the magazine, walked to the shooting range, and shot at the beer bottles inside.

After emptying the magazine, he finally felt better.

There was laughter from behind, Tommy turned around, and two Indian girls walked past him. One of them looked innocent, and her white legs were exposed in small hot pants.

The small vest tightly wrapped the fullness of her chest, and her flat belly was full of moving vitality.

Tommy's eyes widened and he quickly walked over with the AK in hand:

"Ana, where are you going?"

The innocent girl named Anna turned her head and found that it was Tommy. A trace of contempt flashed under her eyes, and she said to Tommy with a smile:

"Little Tommy, how can I help you?"

The sensitive Tommy instantly caught the flash of contempt, and little Tommy's name was particularly harsh.

He smiled reluctantly and pointed to the wooden table next to him:

"It's okay, I just want to invite you for a drink."

"No thanks."

Ana smiled and shook her head in refusal, hugged the girl next to her and continued to move forward.

They were still laughing and laughing, and there were faint sounds.

"Why are you saying no? This is Tommy Littlestone."

"He's not Cheton..."