The ghostly brave man mixed in American comics

[You called me here to do this?] I'll be shy in public!

An angry Tom turned to look at Lance, cursing and struggling to get out of his grasp.

Lance, who didn't care about its tone, began to lure: "Who is around here?" Snack for you! Pick what to eat yourself!

Tom, who quickly turned his head when he heard these words, closed his eyes, and the crotch sent directly to the floodgate.

The

cat urine directly nourished Marco's face, but he couldn't escape Lance's clutches, so he had to purse his mouth and close his eyes, tilting his head and holding his breath to endure this humiliation.

"Effortlessly, I can beat you up here all day, but can you hold on?" Lance, who had put Tom down, stood up, her eyes staring at him like blades.

At this time, beads of sweat oozed from Marco's forehead mixed with cat urine, and his eyes were full of pain, but he was still stubborn.

"Good, very kind! Lance clapped his hands and said, "Next is your second child, I wonder if this thing can withstand my kick?" "

“！！？"

"Nope! No! I say! I say!

Marco's eyes widened in horror, looking at Lance, he had completely collapsed, this guy in front of him was not a good stubble at all, everything about himself would be ruined by him!

Marco, who could endure all kinds of pain, was finally defeated under such a threat, and no one could bear it.

Lance, who put down his feet, smiled: "Isn't it bad to say it earlier?" Stupidity. "

......

Golf is a sport with special charm, allowing people to exercise their bodies, cultivate emotions, self-cultivation and communication skills in a beautiful natural environment, and are known as "fashionable and elegant sports".

On a sunset golf course somewhere in New York.

A burly middle-aged man was sweating, and beside him stood several black-clad bodyguards motionless, like a sculpture.

Next to him was a beautiful girl with long flowing hair, she looked at the middle-aged man with a gentle face, holding a towel in her hand to help him wipe the sweat from his forehead every once in a while.

Looking down, it is surprising that the thing holding the golf ball is not the seat, but someone's head, and if there is a mistake, there is a risk of headshots at any time.

At this moment, this middle-aged man has already played several beautiful shots in a row, but he does not have the slightest hint of pride, but frowns.

“BOSS！ Not good! At this moment, a woman in a professional suit came over in a panic.

The man did not stop the action of aiming in his hand: "I want to know about that competitive project, when was it?" Where did it come from? Why do I only know now? The

woman gave him a cautious look and said, "Fox is using the same story as the model, Mr. Zumas..."

A muffled sound came, and unfortunately this time he did not hit the golf ball, but directly pumped it to the face of the man below who was topping the ball, and his cheeks were suddenly bruised and swollen, and the corners of his mouth also spilled blood, obviously the injury was not light.

But the person remained in a coma and did not wake up under this pain.

Zumas tossed the club to the bodyguard, took the cigar and took a beautiful sip: "Then I withdraw, withdraw, let the guys surnamed Goldstein go."

"'

The accountant says,' the accountant only cares about market value derogation — of course, that's his job."

"But when I was fooled by Draghi's report of such stupid stuff - because as a newbie I didn't seem to know how to make a movie, and it wasn't him who suffered, and then what?"

"Then the stock market fell so much that even my mother didn't dare to recognize it, and everyone had to babble at me."

"For God's sake, I'm not Tony Stark? I can't do this just to show off afterwards! mother fucker！ Tell them we're not doing it.

"There are countless bastard screenwriters waiting stupidly out there." Let's wait until we find a slightly more 'reliable' project. Maybe it's the kind of belt ... Action scenes..." The smiling Zumas reached out and touched a few handfuls of the woman who helped him wipe his sweat, and his anger grew in her coquettish gaze.

"What are you doing?"

The surrounding bodyguards drew their pistols and aimed them at the uninvited guest with a cat squatting on his shoulder.

Lance stopped about five meters away from the men, his gaze crossed the crowd, looked at the Zumas, who was flirting with the young woman, and said, "If you shoot me—I'll pull the bullets out of my broken four-hundred-dollar leather coat..."

"Of course, if you're recording privately, what I just said is complete."

"It's not that the bullet can't hurt me. I mean, I might have that ability, but I'm not going to test it out in this case. "

Stand down." Their boss spoke, came forward with two cigars, and handed them to Lance.

"Well, Mr. Lance—it seems that the information I have about you is not very accurate."

"I should be a compliment, don't you think? I was misled into thinking that you were a young, naïve, reckless, lucky bounty hunter and private investigator, but you had nothing to do with that image.

Zumas threw the cigar that Lance had not picked up, and a bodyguard caught it steadily.

"Take the money."

"What money?"

"That tape you took is worth a lot of money and sell it to me."

Lance, who had no waves in his heart and even wanted to laugh, took half a step forward and said in a flat tone: "You set up a plot for me to shoot that videotape just so that I could sell it to you?" Do you think I will be willing to sell it to you?

"Well, we gave you a couple of good plans, didn't we? Either you exchange it for money ... Either - or you can give it to the sliver and clear yourself of murder suspicions. Of course, no matter how you choose..."

Without waiting for him to finish, Lance, who stepped forward again, was aggressive: "You murdered a girl just to get me to take the initiative to hand over the videotape?"

With this step, the distance between the two became closer, and the surrounding bodyguards also fulfilled their contracts, pulling out their guns again and trying to step forward.

But their move was stopped by Zumas's wave of his hand: "It's okay, George, don't worry." Stay back. After saying a word, he looked back at Lance.

"So, Your Excellency, why are you here? What do you want?

Lance looked at the confident man, and after ten seconds of silence said, "I want the truth, and your confession."

Zumas, who looked like a monster, pulled his sunglasses down a little, revealing those azure blue eyes and looking at Lance feeling a little funny: "I never thought you would ask such a stupid question, what do you want me to confess?" To whom to confess? Confess to the police?

"Frankly I hired you? It's not me who hired you. "

Tricked you into photographing Captain America and his secret identity?"

"I did such a thing? Did I do this? Confess to murder? What murder?

The dancing Zumas did not care about Lance's expression at this time, and still chattered: "If you make such an accusation, law enforcement will need to see the controversial video tape in your mouth, don't you think?"

"Huh... Dear man, I just want you to throw the video of that flag kid to the media, but it seems that you are not the slightest bit interested in this matter, which is beyond my surprise, red wine? Turned

around and walked back a few steps, took the red wine handed by the woman and leaned over to Lance again and paced around him continuously, saying as he walked: "Do you think this flag boy is real or fake?"

"After many years, Captain America, who was originally a national hero, was covered up by the news of death, and was actually manipulated by the government to become a killer to carry out illegal missions."

"And as a strong man, sometimes you have to vent, and this time you just happened to be discovered by a well-known private investigator in the Brooklyn area, and your efficiency was 100%."

Zumas, who took a sip of red wine, looked a little fluttery, and it seemed that he was particularly satisfied with the script he arranged.

"But what does it matter if the flag kid is himself or not? If you want to take action, you have to betray our flag boy, man. Lance

, who felt a little amused, made a look at Tom and instantly returned to normal: "Why did you choose him?"

"Why did you choose him?" Because he has an inseparable relationship with

this country, and our president represents this country, and he is in debt, he breath~" Exhaling a thick smoke, Zumas, who enjoyed this feeling, decided that he would win, and it would not be long before he pushed the president he had lifted up into the abyss.

Seeing the silence of the person in front of him who was controlled by himself, his heart was even more satisfied.

"A moral debt, a debt that he must pay. He forgot his beginning, how he got to where he is today.

"He forgot who helped him get to the top, me and my partner." Because of us, he has no obstacles at all on the road to amass wealth. Does he think we fund him because – because we are patriotic?

Speaking of this, Zumas looked a little hideous, smashed the wine glass in his hand on the ground and continued: "Our efforts have not been rewarded!" Our interests are not taken care of. As a result, his empty promises hurt me a lot.

"Really sometimes when I think of his unpaid debts, and the money that has changed hands several times, I get angry and my backyard is bloated."