Wine and Gun

Albarino really smiled, although he probably wasn't too surprised by the result. He even took a thoughtful step to the side, as if the host gave his stage to the finale performer.

And Herstal stepped over the sea of ​​blue petals—the arrowheads and hydrangeas, the delphiniums torn to shreds—and stood on the bow of the "ship". The stance is so straight and graceful that it looks pleasing to the eye.

He had fantasized about this scene when he was drawing drafts in his notebooks with dried blood on the margins. Herstal Amalette stood at the prow of the ship of madness that was about to sink to the bottom of the sea, where Jesus' disciples stood when he walked on the water, and where Shana stood on that misty morning. Location.

Herstal boarded the bow, and the captives were almost awake at this time: to keep them quiet as they set up the venue today, Albarino gave them a considerable dose of anaesthetic, well In his calculations of the doses, they were neither too early nor too late - the former would probably cause bloodshed, the latter would definitely cause great trauma to Albarino's heart.

Now those people have fallen into the great panic of figuring out their situation, knowing that the fate of their imminent death is often more frightening than the unpredictable sudden death, and they can see the huge guillotine floating in the sky when they look up phantom. So the men struggled, the wires and brackets holding them in place creaked loudly, more blood dripped down the wound, and the decorative flowers trembled.

Herstal has slowly moved towards the first person: Derek Kermian lying on the ground, this middle-aged man is a little more awake than before, and now he is trying to move himself with weak hands and feet, but this common sense Apparently it didn't work at all. Only after Herstal got close did he realize that under the shadow of those flower branches, Kermione's limbs were nailed to the wooden board below him, and blood continued to follow his movements from the penetrating wound. to leak out.

"You have to understand me in this regard, they are indeed quite uncooperative with my work." Albarino said from the outside of the "boat" at this time - he did not try to step on the solid altar piled up with plants and wood, Because that's not the path he's set for himself, "Of course, if you think limiting their struggles will cut your interest, you can also pull those nails out."

Hestal didn't speak, he slowly crouched down in front of the first victim like a wild shòu about to exert his strength. Derek's throat made some frightened, muffled sounds, writhing and struggling to get away from Herstal - but the struggle was to no avail, and Herstal slowly pressed the cold blade against him. On his face, he heard a muffled moan from the man's throat.

"It does feel a little weird," admitted Herstal in a brooding tone. "I usually find victims myself."

——Victim, a more official wording. As soon as I heard it, I knew that this murderer worked in the legal industry. Other murderers generally don’t call the people killed by them that way.

"But very few people deliver them to you in gift wrap," Albarino said with a smile.

Herstal remained in that position, the point of the knife slashing across Kermian's face, like a feline playing with its prey with its sharp claws. He glanced at Albarino, sneered, and said, "Generally speaking, gift wrapping is a flashy thing."

"It's enough to look good." Albarino replied calmly.

Herstal let out a snort, then stabbed the knife into the skin on the side of Kermian's face with a forceful wrist, then pierced through this thin layer of skin and muscle, and poked it into his mouth.

—The gentleman let out a rather loud shriek for someone who had been put down by anesthesia for a day with a knife in his mouth.

Hestal pulled the knife out, and drew a long gap from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, the upward arc resembling a weird, bloody smile. At the same time, there was a commotion in the crowd, and many prisoners also screamed, mixed with the loud sobbing of women.

Albarino looked at the scene with a smile on his face, dressed and looked like a respectable audience member sitting in an opera box, listening not to the shrill screams of people, but to singing "Death". and the fire of despair surrounds me," the coloratura soprano. He watched with almost admiration as Herstal peeled back his skin and muscles in a rather adept gesture, and then began - amid the cacophony of screaming and whimpering from the others - to cut lose his limbs.

Halfway through the work, Herstal looked up. Albarino noticed a splatter of blood on his face, from the brow of the left eye to the cheekbone, a bit of dried blood stuck to the golden eyelashes.

"I'm going to mess up your 'gift wrap'," he said to Albarino in an almost warning tone, "when the police arrive, no one will be able to see what you've set up here. Sample."

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