Super Trick or Treat System

Today, the boy does not look happy. Women’s trouble is Cameron’s bet. Women always have problems, especially Joel's golden boy reputation. He tried to explain that when his career was booming, he had enough time to rest in bed, but Joel was not interested in celibacy, and Cameron did not completely blame him.

Raise the pistol and fire. A puff of blue-white smoke, then made a louder sound than a bang. The shooting awakened the pigeons from the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral, they stood up in the endless congregation, and their worship was interrupted. Joel started well. Clean, tidy and fast.

The crowd began to call his name, their voices on his back, beside him, full of enthusiasm. Cameron watched the first two play yards, this is because the field is scrambling. In a leading position, although not sure if he got there by choice or by accident. Joel is behind McGraw, who is behind Royer. Cameron said, boy, don't worry, he slipped from the starting line. His bicycle was tied to a one-minute walk from the square. He has always hated cars: things that are godless, crippled, inhuman, and not Christian. With a bicycle, you are your own master. Isn't it all that a man can ask?

"-From here, it looks like a fantastic game. This is an excellent start. They are already across the square and the crowd is running wildly here: it's actually more like a European Games than a charity game. What does it look like to you, Jim?"

"Well, Mike, I can see that the road along Fleet Street has been lined up. The police have asked me to tell people, please don’t try to drive to the game, because of course all these roads have cleared the incident. If you try to drive, you will really get nowhere."

"Who is ahead?"

"Well, Nick Royer did set the rhythm at this stage of the race, although we certainly know that there will be a lot of tactics at this distance. It's not just a middle distance, but it's less than a marathon. But these people are tacticians, and each of them will try to make others run as soon as possible." Cameron always said: Let others become heroes.

Joel found that this is a difficult lesson to learn. When shooting a pistol, it is difficult not to break it, and suddenly relax like a tight spring. Everything disappeared in the first two hundred yards, without any reserves. Cameron once said that becoming a hero is easy. It is not smart, not smart at all. Don't waste your time showing off, just let Superman have his own moment. Hang it on the backpack, but stop for a while. It's best to cheer up in your position because you won, rather than let them call you a kind loser.

win. win. win.

at all costs. at all costs.

win.

He would say that the person who doesn't want to win is not my friend. If you want to do it for its love, exercise, please do it with others. Only public boys believe in the joy of playing games. The loser has no joy, boy. What did i say?

The loser has no joy.

brutal. Follow the rules, but play to the limit. Push as much as possible. Don't let others tell you different things. You win here. What did i say?

win.

Now, the cheers faded, and the shadow of the building blocked the sunlight. It's almost cold. The pigeons are still past and cannot settle down now because they have been driven away. They are the only people on the backstreet. It seems that other worlds are watching this game.

Cameron unlocked his bicycle, tucked the chain and padlock into his pocket, and jumped up. He believes that although he is addicted to cheap cigars, it is still healthy for fifty-year-olds. He turned on the radio. The reception was bad and it was surrounded by buildings. All the cracks. He was standing on his bicycle, trying to improve his tone. It did a little bit well. "-Nick Royer has fallen behind-"

That's fast. Please note that two or three years of office have passed. It's time to throw the nails and let the young man take over. He had to do this, even though my goodness was painful. Cameron keenly recalled how he felt when he was thirty-three, when he realized that his best running career had passed. It's like a foot buried in a grave, reminding people of how quickly the body blooms and begins to wither.

When he stepped into a sunny street from the shadows, a black Mercedes was driven by the driver, so it could have been quietly pushed by the wind. Cameron saw the passenger only briefly. He recognized the person Voight had talked to before the game, a thin face, about 40 years old, his mouth was too tight, and his lips might have been surgically removed.

Beside him sat Voight.

Looking back from the smoked glass window, the seemingly true face seemed impossible. He even dressed up for the game.

Cameron didn't like this appearance at all. Five minutes ago, he had already seen a South African who was running. Who is that? It's double obvious. It smelled of restoration in some way; it stinks to high heaven.

Mercedes-Benz has disappeared around the corner. Cameron turned off the radio and stepped on the car pedal. The pleasant sunshine made him sweat while riding.

Mercedes had difficulty crossing the narrow streets, ignoring all the "one-way" signs as it moved forward. Its slow passage made it relatively easy to keep the vehicle in view without being seen by the occupants, although this effort started to start fire in his lungs.

Mercedes was in a small, unnamed alley west of Fetry, where the shadows were particularly dense. Cameron was hiding in the corner not far from the car twenty yards, watching the driver and the lipless man open the door, while Voight's figure followed closely behind him, walked out, and walked into an unremarkable building . When the three were gone, Cameron put his bicycle on the wall and followed behind. This street is very quiet. From this distance, the roar of the crowd is just noise. It may be another world, this street. The shadows of flying birds, the windows of the building are bricked up, the paint is peeling off, the smell of rotting in the air. A dead rabbit is lying in the sink, a black rabbit has a white collar, and someone has lost a pet. The flies fell on it, alternately surprised and greedy.

Cameron crawled towards the open door as quietly as possible. It turns out that he has nothing to fear. For a long time, these three people disappeared in the dark corridor of the house. The air in the hall was cool and wet. Looking fearless, but feeling scared, Cameron walked into the blind building. The wallpaper in the corridor is **** color, as is the paint. It's like walking into the intestines. The intestines of the dead are cold and rotten. Ahead, the stairs have collapsed, making it impossible to enter the upper level. They did not rise, but they fell.

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