Werewolf hunting rules

Marietta was silent.

The last time she was let go so easily was when she was sixteen.

She is the daughter of a knight and she cannot be weak.

But the man in front of him was very familiar with his own fighting style, and his physical fitness and reaction ability far exceeded his own.

It's simply impossible to defeat.

Although she was not restrained, she had no desire to fight again.

After a long silence, she asked Clayton:

"Can I leave a suicide note?"

By dragging people to an abandoned warehouse, she had already determined her fate.

As a sheriff, Mary has seen many corpse dumping cases and has rich experience. She has also fantasized about her own death many times.

Clayton was deeply pleased with her pragmatism, but there was a difficulty here: "I didn't pick up your pen. I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to write a suicide note."

"That's it."

Mary fell silent, sat down, and then lay down.

As if she believed that all other actions were in vain, she simply chose the most comfortable position to maintain.

"You should learn how to listen to people." Clayton put on his coat: "Actually, there are only a few questions. You can leave after you answer them. There is no need to be so desperate, and there is no need to write a suicide note."

"Oh, but I don't believe it."

Mary was heartbroken, and Clayton had no choice but to comfort her: "To be honest, with your eyes, I don't have the need to kill you."

The female sheriff sat up suddenly: "Do you recognize me?"

"certainly."

Marietta stared intently at Clayton's face, trying to make sure he was the person she had seen.

Clayton allowed her to observe him. He changed out of his clothes when he got home and never wore them again, so he didn't worry about being recognized later.

"First question, why are you going to Broken Wing Angel Club?"

"Work."

This is not something to hide.

Mary believed that as long as Clayton was interested, he would be able to find out.

"You work there?"

"My job is to write letters for people who can't read."

Mary's tone remained unchanged, making it unclear what opinions she had towards strippers.

Creighton pointed out the unreasonableness: "I have never heard that letter writers at the post office need to 'travel'. You should always be in an office position."

Mary told him: "Someone will pay for privacy."

Clayton picked up her bag from the floor and found the brand new letters inside, seven in total.

"Who asked you to write the letter?"

"Those dancing girls. Don't open it, those are personal letters."

Clayton didn't care about her.

He briefly read one of the letters and found that it was a letter home to his mother.

The "I" in the letter is a waiter in a restaurant. She complained to her mother that her work during this period was very hard and she didn't earn much money. Fortunately, she had a promising life. She recently found an opportunity to work in a drama troupe, and her salary was much higher than before.

Also enclosed were one pound notes.

"Dancing girl?" Clayton waved the letter to Mary.

Mary asked him without looking at which letter it was: "Who would mention to their family that they are doing this kind of work?"

Clubs that perform stripteases must also offer certain services.

And no matter where you are, this is something that the service provider himself is ashamed to talk about.

This was something that was irrefutable, and Clayton opened the second letter under her reproachful gaze.

The second letter was to my sister. The owner of the letter was weak and was taking medicine to adjust his health recently. He thanked his sister for her kindness, but refused to come to the city to see him.

The target of the third letter is the lover of the letter owner. She persuades the other party to practice craftsmanship in the village, and she will be able to raise the dowry to marry him in two years.

The fourth letter is to my mother again. The fifth and sixth letters are

Clayton stuffed the letter back into his bag, not knowing what to say for a moment.

His knowledge of the Holy Grail Society has not increased at all, but he has received information from other fields that cannot be said to be useless.

"Why is there no letter to father?"

He noticed that in these letters, the believers, namely the dancers, seemed to be the important source of income for families and groups.

This is very unreasonable.

It is common sense that men should be the backbone of the family.

"Of course you don't have to write to your father if you don't have a father," Mary said.

She actually lied to Clayton. The owner of these letters was someone she knew and had been her playmate since childhood.

Their fathers were both soldiers in the same formation.

They died in war years, but not all victims in the military died at the hands of others.

Poisonous insects and ferocious beasts, strange climates, and sudden diseases. Many things do not contain subjective malice, but they all pose a real threat to the safety of the colonial garrison.

No honorable death, no pension.

This rule has put many families in trouble, including the girls Mary knew, but she was not one of them.

Being able to allow Mary, who had no worries about food and clothing, to continue to appear in their lives already showed that they were friends, not to mention that they also asked her to write letters.

Clayton also vaguely noticed something.

People always like to gather around similar people.

And he is all too familiar with the kind of jobs that make people prone to losing their father.

He changed the subject.

"Then do you know who the owner of this club is?"

"I don't know, and neither do they."

"Don't answer for them." Clayton looked at her coldly.

Mary was stared at by those yellow-green wolf eyes. She realized that she had said too much and pursed her lips.

"This kind of place involves tax evasion. There is usually an agent in charge, but the property rights often pass through the hands of several people. No one knows whose hands it is now."

"Is Rosa still performing in the club?"

"She's always there."

This answer surprised Clayton.

"How is your relationship with her? Are any of these envelopes from hers?"

His question is not unnecessary. Girls in these places often don't use their real names. The signature on the letter will be completely different from what others call them. You can't recognize the person just by looking at the letter.

"Normally, no," Mary answered him shortly, wondering about the purpose of the questions.

"When did she start working there?"

"I have been working for a few years, but I am not familiar with her."

It has always been shown that the Spider Priest has replaced a real identity, and "Rosa" is not a temporarily fabricated identity.

This difference shows that no matter what purpose she wants to achieve, her means must be concealed enough, and her character and behavior need to imitate the owner of the original identity, otherwise the identity will be easily doubted.

But Clayton felt that his first experience of going to Broken Wing Angel Club was very unnatural. If he had been working there for many years, he should have been able to see the abnormalities in the audience at that time.

She should have been suspected.

"Where does she live?"

"I have no idea."

"Has anything unusual happened in the club recently?"

Mary answered more and more frankly: "I haven't heard."

"Did the girls complain about anything?"

"I'm just a letter writer."

"."

Although disappointed, Clayton also knew that he would get no useful information from Mary, so he threw the bag back to her.

"But you are also a police officer, so keep an eye on them and don't let them get hurt."

He put on his shotgun, pushed open the green-painted iron door and walked away.

Mary looked at his back, still not understanding his purpose.

But she knew that besides Clayton Bello, there was another person she needed to investigate.

Sanders is an artilleryman.

Or maybe he used to be an artilleryman.

While transporting a mortar, a fixture came loose and the barrel fell off the carriage, hitting his right hand and accidentally crushing two fingers.

Although he thought this did not affect his ability to carry shells and operate cannons, his superiors did not think so and found an excuse to kick him out.

Since the culprit who injured Sanders was at least a military weapon, he received some medical expenses.

But it’s really just a little bit.

That little money was gone after he went out to drink for three days after he was discharged from the army.

But it was precisely because of this that Sanders came to work in Bruno's office in a daze. He didn't even remember how he met him.

At Bruno's persuasion, he began to use his size talents for tracking work.

The pay for this job is neither too much nor too little.

Not more, not less means that by the end of the month, all the money he earned this month will be spent on time.

This wasn't a big deal in the past, but holy shit! The customer introduced by Bruno paid an extra 5 pounds in fines to fish him out, making him owe a favor!

After parting ways with Clayton, Sanders was troubled all the way.

Although they reached an equal agreement that he would help Clayton pay a fine of 5 pounds in the future, it also meant that he had to prepare a deposit of 5 pounds at any time for emergencies, lest he face the situation where Clayton suddenly went to jail and had no money to use. situation.

In other words, he has to learn to save money.

How could he have such ability? !

Sanders thought painfully all the way, and his legs subconsciously walked in the direction of home.

It wasn't until he entered the door, sat down on his most comfortable little sofa as usual, and took the time to look around, that he realized that the surroundings were different from what he remembered.

The old dressing table, the broken floor tiles under the feet, and the flickering electric lights on the wall

This is not his room at all, let alone his home.

He wasn't even sitting on his couch, he was sitting in front of his dressing table with a bar stool underneath him.

It was a completely unfamiliar environment, but Sanders felt instinctively at ease, the familiarity feeling like home. Reasonable and yet completely different, it feels abrupt and terrifying.

This is where he walked with his legs following the idea of ​​"returning to a place of peace of mind."

In panic, a pair of hands suddenly pressed on both sides of Sanders' head.

He reflected his back through the mirror on the dressing table. It was a woman standing behind him who did not reflect anything above her chest.

The feeling of strangeness and familiarity intertwined in the bottom of my heart, and it seemed that I had forgotten something. Sanders tried to remember, but there was a feeling of nausea in his heart.

A woman's voice rang in her ears: "My dear, please tell me what you have experienced?"

The dwarf wanted to resist, but even this thought felt strangely familiar.

Under the attack of the sound, he quickly lost consciousness.