death of hope

Chapter 311 "Corporate Warrior" (227) Strangers
There was a man with his back to the hall, sitting in the shadow of the corner of the bar, his tone should be that of the bar owner:

"Boys, treat the guests well, we owe them."

The figure turned around abruptly, the light was out and he couldn't see clearly, it was vaguely seen as an elderly man:
"Donnie, Roy, you two will help Spencer bandage the wound and send it to Dr. Hammer tomorrow morning."

"Know it."

"Ferguson, take care of your customers, I'll give them free bills."

"Row."

Lynch thought: (This old man has a high prestige, and the young people will do everything he says.)
The bartender asked: "What would you like to drink, my old man will treat you today."

"Then I'm not welcome, bottled Budweiser golden bottle, iced."

"You're really saving money for the old man and ordering cheap ones, and you, big beauty."

"Blue Mountain Vodka Cocktail with lemon and ice."

"The beer is here, the bottle opener is here, the cocktails are waiting."

"I'm tired and sweaty."

Sigurdriefa took off her baseball cap and sunglasses, took off her jacket and T-shirt and put them on the back of the chair, leaving only a small sports vest.

Her sweaty skin highlighted her muscular lines. She broke off the lid of the wine bottle with her bare hands, raised her neck, and gulped it down.

"It's so hot, let's have another bottle."

"Holy shit! (holy shit!)"

Fat Downey, the bartender, stared wide-eyed. The sexy and wild mysterious woman fit his hobby too well. He remembered the game "Tomb Raider" he played last night,
I've always wanted to download an X-body patch, but this person in front of me is even more attractive than the heroine of the game, Lara Croft.

The wretched eyes moved from the chest to the hole in the jeans, and the hala almost flowed down, and he said to Roy beside him:
"Hey, this face, this line, the big girls are so on point."

"It's enough to drink. Three bottles have gone down at this moment."

"Hey, Roy, this big bitch is no hotter than Maria, the head of the Black Rose Nightclub."

"Hush! Keep your voice down! My partner heard you!"

Roy glanced at his girlfriend beside him. Miss Anna was obviously very afraid of the two strangers and was still trembling slightly. She didn't seem to care about the top spot in the nightclub.

"Fatty, you're trying to harm me, right?" Roy coughed on purpose, leaned close to Downey and said:

"The big guy is lying. This grandson looks like a fucking terrorist. This bitch is also very dangerous. She might be a female killer from some gang."

"It makes sense. Why are the tourists so muscular and have knives in their waists... But it's also true that they saved Spencer."

"That stupid Spencer is notoriously bad-witted. He insisted on taking part in some kind of strike parade. Smart people all went to be scabs, so he foolishly followed his life, and now he might be taken advantage of again. .”

"But."

"The old man trusts these two outlanders, we can't believe it, hey, fat man, later, you go to the old man's room to get a double-barreled shotgun, load it, hide it behind the bar, and fix a revolver for me too , be prepared."

"Wait! I'll come as I go."

Just as the fat man was about to move, the old man shouted:

"Hey, Donnie, what are you doing with my keys?"

"Uh... the ice machine is broken, I'm going to get the repair tools."

"Bad fart! It's not easy!" The old man easily saw through the fat man's lie: "Put my key back!"

"Okay... I'm so old and confused." Donnie complained in a low voice, making a helpless expression at Roy.

What he never expected was that the old man took out a silver automatic pistol and deliberately placed it on the table where the light could shine.

Remove the magazine, pull the receiver, the bullets in the chamber are thrown out, and the old man catches them in the air in a chic way. This is a unique skill that has been practiced in the military for many years.

Lynch was slightly taken aback, he could do this trick himself, and he didn't know what the other party wanted to do.

(The old man is showing force, warning us that he is not easy to mess with?)
"I really don't understand, young man."

The old man said: "Why do you choose York City for tourism? Can't you think about it?
There are no green mountains and green waters here, and no animals are cherished. There are only industrial waste water and corpses beaten into a sieve by gangs. "

"What is this?" Lynch looked directly at the other party. (What do you mean?)

"I'm the owner of this bar, and I'm also the talker in this neighborhood. The kids call me Old Jon."

(Good boy, godfather, huh?) "Hi, old man."

"Well, polite, you saved Mr. Spencer, he is a resident of our block, I am very grateful, thank you."

Sigurdlifa said: "He grabbed my calf and said that he has a wife and children waiting for him. Is it true?"

"I didn't lie to you. There are already too many orphans and widows on this street. It is impossible to increase it. You are definitely not here to travel. I will repay my kindness. Let's talk, even if it is not so legal, it is okay. Think about it, you know what I mean."

Although the old man's eyes were cloudy and dim, they exuded eagle-like sharp eyes. He must have been a character when he was young. Speaking of this, Lynch simply didn't hide it, and directly told the truth:

"But, we are not tourists, I am looking for someone."

"Who?"

"Patricia Lynch."

"Lynch... Executioner? It's really an ancient name, I don't know it, there is no one with this name in the neighborhood."

"To be precise, I'm not looking for this person, but for the traces left by him. Mr. Patricia is my father, and he has passed away."

"I won't lie to you, I have been on this street for more than half a century, and I have never heard of this person."

"He has never been on Terra's home planet, he is from Pandora."

"Oh... Pandora... that colony planet where monsters are running around?"

"Yes, I am a refugee there."

"Unfortunate." The old man's tone was full of concern and pity: "Pandora refugees...then your family members..."

"died."

"I'm sorry to mention these sad things, young man."

"it does not matter."

"Look, Roy," said the old man to the male customer:

"Stop complaining that your life is miserable. There will always be people in this world who have experienced worse. The experience of Pandora refugees is comparable to horror movies."

"Pandora...it's really not easy, but I'm not interested in comparison." The customer named Roy kept his lovely girlfriend behind him, as if Lynch was a man-eating ghost.

"What work do you do?"

"Freelancer."

"Lie!" Roy stood up; "He has the McMillan company badge on his shirt, and the skull and dagger icon represents the company's armed forces. These two are corporate fighters!"

(End of this chapter)