Werewolf hunting rules

Bruno looked at the nightingale beside the bed with confusion.

Before he lost consciousness, he saw Sanders directing the Gray Hats to carry his body away.

Now that we are here, those gang members should also be in trouble.

Many of his friends are working in the Gray Hat Gang, and the current situation is really difficult to handle.

Those bastards with missing arms and legs. He owes them so much!

At this moment, Nightingale gave him a kind smile: "If I ask you to get out of bed now and do something for us and for yourself, do you think you have enough strength and stamina to complete the task?"

Bruno took a deep breath and suppressed the desire to cough: "I think normal movement will not be a problem."

He needs to know what happened to Sanders. Although there are some speculations, there is no evidence after all. Is the other party controlled by evil magic, or is he really betrayed?

This thirst for knowledge outweighed the discomfort.

"Very good! Very good!" Nightingale said twice, then raised the corners of her mouth, revealing what should have been a kind smile. "So, if I need you to move freely to cooperate with my observation work, do you have any plans?"

Bruno twitched the corners of his mouth, he probably knew what the other party was going to do.

"I thought this was unreasonable. I'm just an ordinary person. I was injured and I can't bear too many risks." The detective changed his tone and showed weakness.

He does want to solve this problem and get his detective agency back on track, but that doesn't mean he has to sacrifice his life for it.

Nothing was more important than his life, and there might be in the future, but now he found no such precious thing.

"Aren't you willing to take risks? You don't think that if you sit on the bed and gnaw biscuits to coax the children, things will be done by themselves, right?" Nightingale asked him back.

"I at least need to know who can help me." Bruno got out of bed holding the mattress and moved his legs to sit on the edge of the bed: "My assistants spend more time with Sanders than I do. If Sanders becomes If this happens, I'm afraid they won't be spared. If possible, I want a letter of recommendation so that I can ask the city government for someone, even if it's a clerk, and then I can figure out how to get a damn list."

"That's impossible. Our mission is just to observe. But..." Nightingale paused and made another suggestion.

"Do you know the Presbyterian Church? This is a special organization. They are dedicated to hiding themselves while transforming the city."

"Have heard a little bit."

Bruno said quietly, of course he knew the name.

In fact, many gangs in St. Alvin Parish rely on the Presbyterian Church to exist. This process is not through some hint or acquiescence, but a natural phenomenon, just like toads will grow where there is water, and toads will grow in straw piles. Like a mouse.

The existence of the Presbyterian Church is like this pool of water. It does not even have the soles of people's shoes, but it is everywhere. It is regarded by the residents of Sasha City as part of the city. Only people who do jobs lower than the soles of shoes Will see it and fear it.

The members of the Gray Hat Gang are also workers, and many of them have planted trees for a mysterious Mr. Dominion in the Presbyterian Church. The forest outside the city is their result.

"Great, so I don't have to explain it to you from the beginning. You're going to have to get them involved in this anyway."

"This has nothing to do with them, right? Are you sure they will deal with the problem of the Culles family? I think these things have not affected anyone yet, and there is no benefit in solving it." Bruno wondered, he had consciously classified himself as one Among people with no influence.

Nightingale did not answer his question: "This is what you need to consider."

Bruno was not angry because of this attitude. He just lowered his head and immediately began to think about the feasibility of this task.

All the information he knew about the Presbyterian Church proved that the Presbyterian Church was an organization with few disputes. So far, it had not had any conflicts with other entities. However, this was also related to the fact that the Presbyterian Church had existed for a long time. Twenty years, this is what he learned through research. The specific existence time must exceed this number. It can be said that the Presbyterian Council is far more familiar with this city than he is.

In this case, his information advantage was probably only the most fragmentary and uninteresting part of the personal story of Caroline Culles.

Or is Nightingale hinting to him that everything is only related to that woman?

If Nightingale is sure that the Presbyterian Council can deal with the woman with mysterious power, does that mean that there are also people in the Presbyterian Council who have incredible abilities?

In this situation, will his efforts work?

In this closed room, a bird song suddenly came from the window with the curtains drawn.

That's the nightingale's call.

Bruno looked over warily, but his sight was still blocked by the dark curtains, but Nightingale remained motionless, as if he had not heard the sound. This abnormal reaction revealed some kind of information in the eyes of the detective.

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

Nightingale put the book in her hand on the bedside table and sighed imperceptibly.

"Hell, you don't have to talk so much sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Before Bruno could finish speaking, he lost consciousness again.

"Don't let people know when we leave, the singing will forever be in their memory. Who the hell wants to use poetry to set rules for the intelligence services?"

The nightingale murmured and opened the window. The height of this floor was not too low. The light from the street lights looked no different from fireflies, while the ground was bottomless, giving people the illusion of being far away and cold.

He took a breath, looked at the darkness outside the window and jumped down.

"I thought you said you didn't have to see them anymore," Marietta said dissatisfiedly. She also sat upright in the cheap cafe, as if she was going to participate in a military parade at any time.

It was not easy to find her during the day, and Clayton waited at the post office for quite some time before she was finally available.

He had respect for Mary. It was legendary that a typist and a woman could become a peace officer who maintained order.

"No need to meet. I just want to know the entrance to the black market in the mine outside the city."

Marietta looked slightly stunned: "If you are talking about the hiding place where gang members hide from the Sheriff, then I also know this place. What are you going to do there?"

"To stop an explosion."

The table shook, and Mary stood up suddenly, attracting the attention of other customers in the cafe.

Clayton regretted that he should have talked to her in a more private place, but fortunately Mary did not have the habit of repeating what others said out loud.

"Wow." Mary also realized that her reaction was inappropriate, exclaimed dryly, and began to make up random things: "He dreamed that he was killing people. There must be an evil existence occupying his mind. He must Just go to church and do the exorcism rituals a few more times.”

Her impromptu religious remarks quickly made others lose interest in this place. After others turned their heads, she sat down again.

"I thought if it were you, you would be able to face all kinds of disasters calmly."

Clayton spoke highly of Mary, but she was not at all happy. Instead, she held the wine glass in front of her uneasily.

"You don't know the seriousness of the situation. The minerals in that mine are far from being fully developed. The reason why it was abandoned was because of the leakage of poisonous gas and the shaking of the shaft walls caused by workers' improper digging during mining. What's worse, the poisonous gas touched It will also explode when exposed to fire, and if someone planned an explosion there, the residents of the entire mining area might be buried alive."

There are still many residents in the mine who are not gang members. They are all people who can't live in the city. They may have debts in other cities, have a bad reputation in the local area, or are simply bad-tempered. Widows and widowers, but they are all ordinary people anyway, they maintain the operation of the black market as their daily job, and usually gather in the few places in the mines where there are no poisonous gas eruptions to live.

If the mine collapsed, the number of casualties would be at least three digits.

"Don't worry, no one is going to blow up the mine, it's still safe there." Clayton comforted her.

Marietta relaxed her fingers on the beer glass slightly, and suddenly felt ashamed of herself for being too nervous in front of a well-trained cavalry. She had always aimed to be such a person, but now it seemed that she was still immature enough.

If things were really serious, Creighton would certainly show it.

"Sorry, I'm a little nervous." She apologized to the lieutenant, and after receiving understanding, she expressed her confusion: "Then what are they going to blow up?"

"A steam train with twelve cars."

boom!

Mary knocked over her beer glass.