Wine and Gun

Pfister gave Herstal a rather puzzled look, as far as he knew Herstal had no family, nor had any friends come to visit him for so long.

"Let's end the conversation, Pfister." Herstal nodded coldly, obviously not intending to explain his confusion, "I invited an important guest."

Herstal, handcuffed, was led through a long corridor by two heavily armed guards. These guards clearly don't really think he's a Westland pianist, otherwise it would be impossible to let him walk around with nothing but handcuffs.

But no one with a good mind would choose to escape at such a time. Herstal had observed the environment in the prison, and to leave the prison from their Eastern District, it was necessary to pass through countless doors controlled by the computer, countless doors and windows. A prison guard with a gun, and a vast open space with watchtowers and snipers. It can be said that the situation of digging out the escape channel with an iron spoon that often appears on TV hardly exists in real life, and now Hestal can't even get an iron spoon.

Prison guards took Herstal to a visitor's room with ghostly-eyed cameras flashing red lights in the corners. Herstal's side had a metal chair fixed to the floor with armrests that could For handcuffs. Directly in front of the chair is a thick bulletproof glass, and on the other side of the bulletproof glass sits another, much more comfortable wooden chair.

Sitting on the chair was a tall, thin man with fluffy ginger hair. The visitor's card tucked under his chest had his name written on it: Leohard Schreiber.

The reporter raised his head and smiled eagerly at Herstal, who had not yet been chained to a chair by the prison guards, his eyes sparkling like Sinbad who had discovered the treasure.

He said, "Hello, Westland pianist."

Note:

[1] What are apes to people? A ridiculous or a shameful thing. Man is the same to Superman: a laugh, or a shame. You have gone from worm to man, but most of you are still worms now. In the past you were apes, but now human beings are more apes than any apes.

- Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Chapter 113 Offended Luna 02

"I'm glad you're willing to interview me," Leohard Schreiber's first words were, "but I'd still like to ask: What made you change your mind?"

Ever since Herstal shot Stryder in the head, there's been a wave of people wanting to interview him, whether he's a Westland pianist or not, now everyone wants it know his news. But Herstal did not accept interview invitations from anyone who wanted to interview him or write a biography of him until this day.

Shi Haibo thought that this could not always be because the other party admired him very much, and he was very self-aware in this regard. The quarrel that took place at the gate of the anonymous mutual aid club is still vivid in my mind.

"Because you are willing to give me the information I want to know," the prisoner replied succinctly.

Indeed, Herstal and Shi Haibo had two communications that were not very nutritious. The information in the prison was blocked, and Herstal had not established any contacts, so Shi Haibo agreed to help him find out what he wanted to know. , to exchange for an interview.

And when Herstal answered the question whose answer had long been expected, Schieber looked at his face carefully: He looked so different from before his arrest that his readers would be willing to write in the newspaper I read such a comparison... The murderer of the suspected Westland pianist was wearing the standard orange prison uniform, and this bright color made him look bad. I could see the dark circles under his eyes and the chapped parts of his lips, which made him look real and haggard, a far cry from the legendary "pianist". Can I boldly speculate that this person was still thinking about something when he was trapped in me? Will there be an emotion that borders on guilt that will torture him and keep him awake at night? Whether the face of Albarino Bacchus will appear in his dreams - this person is the first soul of his men, and the WLPD has not found his body so far.

"Yes," Schubert replied, "but you need to answer my question first."

Herstal didn't even lift his eyelids, and seemed to lack interest, but Shi Haibo decided that this meant "ask it".

He swallowed and said, "I want to talk to you about Albarino Bacchus."

Because everyone likes that kind of story, love hurts, bào force, desire and destruction, when a murder case is mixed with such elements, it is almost ecstatic, this kind of murderer often attracts a lot of attention—— How did the song in "Chicago" come about? "Who's to say that murder isn't an art? And if she's not hanged, who's to say that her transformation started with a single shot?"

Herstal said calmly: "Ask."

Herstal Armalette kept her calm expression when I mentioned the name of Dr. Bacchus, and the deepest grief I have ever heard was a numbness - no, that's too subjective to write like that ——Still maintaining a calm expression, as if the person who had been rubbing his ears and temples a few months ago had never appeared in his life...

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