Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

Alphonse Willie was busy appreciating art paintings in his 'special office' in the casino as usual. Don't ask him why he has a 'special office', and don't ask him why he appreciates paintings in the casino. The last one was like this

The person who asked the question had already been hacked to death with a hand ax in front of seven of his men.

But one thing I can tell you is that Alphonse Wiley, 'Hawthorne', was very unhappy at this time, very unhappy.

Although his ugly and fierce face is not very friendly on weekdays, it still makes several of his confidants feel a little afraid at this time.

After all, you never know what Alphonse Willy will do in the next second.

Just like it is now.

He suddenly shouted: "Selik, Selik! Damn it, where is that son of a bitch?"

Selik was his accountant.

By the time Selik ran up to Alphonse out of breath, five minutes had passed. In this special office, you couldn't see any traces related to the gang. The exquisite floors, luxurious decorations, marble table and

The paintings and sculptures of all sizes throughout the room make it look more like an artist's office.

Alphonse Willie was sitting behind his marble table. Sellick couldn't see his expression clearly, so he could only ask in a low voice: "My lord, what do you want to see me for?"

At this moment, his voice sounded normal again: "It's nothing, Selik, it's nothing. I just want you to see..."

He stood up, pointed to a painting on the easel behind Selik, and said, "What do you think of this painting?"

Selik looked back and saw that it was a painting depicting a witcher. If Celik's true intentions were to be considered, the painting could be said to be very good, but he couldn't figure out what Alphonse had in mind, so he had to

Muttered: "Uh...well...Look, sir, this is...uh..."

Alphonse grabbed the book on the table and threw it on the back of Selik's head, shouting: "You can't fucking speak or something? Everyone, come and see! My accountant turns out to be an idiot who can't speak!"

"

Selik didn't dare to speak. He bent down to pick up the book, put it on Alphonse's table, and whispered: "The painting is very good, sir..."

"Yeah?"

Alphonse calmed down again at this time, and he asked calmly. This immediately made Selik's heart rise, and he waited tremblingly for Alphons' next words.

"I also think he painted well, oh damn it. It's a pity that he couldn't stop those people, I guess he will die soon." Alphonse sighed. Then he said: "This kid was in the studio two days ago

After finishing this painting, I knew that he would never sell me the original painting, so I simply asked a student in their studio to copy one for me. Look at the colors, the copy is so good! Damn it,

Why can't he think about it?"

Alphonse became more and more irritable as he talked. He slapped his hand on the marble table and said angrily: "What the hell, why doesn't he just refuse to sell it to me?"

Selik only dared to lower his head and listened. He didn't dare to express his anger. Who knew that this would make Alphons angry, but he didn't say more. He just threw a bag of money to Selik and sat back in his chair.

He went up and said: "Take the flowers, don't ask me why, do you understand?"

Selik nodded vigorously, and then went out, leaving Alphonse alone in his office looking at the painting in silence - the silence did not last long, and a loud noise made Alphonse almost fall out of his chair.

The top fell off and he immediately called out the name of the guard outside his office, but he heard nothing but screams.

Alphonse Willey suddenly felt something bad. He opened a box he placed under the marble table, and inside was a crossbow. Then, he extinguished the candle, walked to the door of his office, held up the crossbow, and began to wait.

He heard continuous screams and the sound of bodies falling to the ground, as well as some explosions and the sound of swords cutting bodies. He knew this sound all too well. Alphonse Willy came from a street rough.

The thief is now one of the four gangsters in Novigrad. He has killed not only 1,000 but also 800 people.

At the same time, there was another footsteps getting closer and closer. He did not hide his meaning at all. The footsteps stopped outside his office. Alphonse heard a hoarse voice: "'Hawthorne'?"

The witcher looked at the door. He didn't hear anyone speaking, but his ears told him that there was breathing inside.

He looked back at the mess he had made, with the body parts and pieces of meat all over the floor. Geralt took a deep breath of the bloody air and said, "You can choose to come out now, or I will let you come out."

Still no one spoke.

"It seems you chose the latter option."

The witcher kicked open the door. He heard the sound of a bow string being pulled, and a crossbow arrow was shooting towards his head. However, before he had any close contact with the witcher, it was caught in his hands.

The sword was deflected.

Geralt took a heavy step forward, and his fist hit Alphonse's face accurately and powerfully, knocking him to the ground, and then kicked him in the stomach. The witcher ignored this.

The gang boss on the ground groaned weakly, dragged him out of his office, and threw him directly into the middle of his casino, throwing him together with the corpses of his men.

Then, he found a good chair and sat on it himself.

"Now, let's talk about Cronin Gregory."

When Alphonse heard this, he smiled, and 'Hawthorne' smiled miserably and said, "That kid is dead, right?"

Hawthorne reluctantly stood up from the ground. Geralt was a little surprised. He was very sure that the kick he just made caused this guy to bleed internally. He should be in terrible pain now. But Hawthorne stood up. Not only that,

He also picked up a chair leg, stood up straight in a funny posture, and said: "Come on, mutant freak, if you want to kill me, go ahead, but the second before you chop off my head,

I hope you remember that what they asked you to do to that boy will be done to you sooner or later."

After saying that, he roared and rushed towards the demon hunter sitting on the chair.

Geralt didn't even bother to avoid it. He turned his head slightly and knocked Hawthorne to the ground with a slap. His body was indeed pretty good among ordinary people, but compared to the witchers, he was as weak as a baby.

"Cough...cough, ah, your fists are really strong, you bastard." Hawthorne fell to the ground. He coughed twice and spat out a mouthful of blood. His mouth was still dirty.

The demon hunter folded his arms in a restful state. His face and body were covered with blood. Hawthorne heard his hoarse voice: "I want to ask you a question."