The door of the courtyard house has been welded dead

It was pitch black.

The hot breath exhaled from his mouth came back to his face, but it did not make Mr. Steve Johnson feel any warmth at all.

The security guards sitting on both sides, sandwiching him in the middle, even heard the chattering sound of teeth "fighting" up and down.

One of them tilted his head and pinched his clothes in confusion. They felt like cotton clothes. Isn't this pilot's physique good?

What he didn't know was that in Western countries, people who cover their heads or eyes will only have one fate when they are taken out of prison. Mr. Vulture was already on the verge of collapse.

If he hadn't drank much water, the back seat of the car would have been filled with the smell of urine.

The rain kept hitting the carport, making a dull sound. In the vulture's mind, he had already begun to imagine that he had become the car, and the raindrops turned into bullets splashing towards him.

"What are you going to do?"

At this time, he had long lost his previous domineering attitude and was roaring tremblingly, even if the spit sprayed out came back to his face after being rubbed.

The carriage was silent, and no one answered any of his questions. Only the sound of guns swinging nearby told him that there was indeed someone beside him.

After about 10 minutes of inner torture, the moving vehicle slowly slowed down.

I don’t know if it was my imagination, but there seemed to be people chattering outside the car, speaking their native language, but everything seemed like an illusion.

"Crench~!"

The water droplets swung by the wheels caused a small ripple on the concrete floor of the yard, which was then directly broken by the falling big feet.

The vehicle that arrived again attracted the attention of countless people outside the court. Even in the pouring rain, the reporters who smelled the "meaty smell" also put all the cameras hanging on their chests at the risk of water damage and scrapping their cameras. Lifted up.

The people in the car struggled and resisted, and were finally pulled out without any accident. This scene seemed to give them a shot of stimulant, and they kept pressing the shutter button on their hands.

By this time, the people who took over were already military policemen wearing white helmets. After saluting, the few people who were in the car got back into the car and completed their mission.

The white helmet, no matter which country it is on, means that it has the right to enforce the law on the soldiers. What's more, this time, in order to facilitate understanding, they even wore "MP" cuffs on their arms.

The film was no longer enough at this time. With fast fingers, they had already begun to change the film in a hurry. For them who were guarding the door, this unlucky child was their goal today and was destined to be the headline of their home. news.

"Wang Defa?"

Johnson, whose hood was pulled down and his hands were tightly squeezed, was unable to block the sudden light, especially the flash of the flash, which made his light blue eyes feel like crying.

Johnson closed his eyes tightly and his face was distorted. In his ears, only the crisp sound of the shutter closing was left.

Raindrops flowed down his messy blond hair and onto his face. No one held an umbrella for him, but the good thing was that the cold raindrops quickly restored his stimulated eyesight.

Looking at the fence just a short distance away, the people outside were pointing at him like monkeys, each holding a camera. Johnson's face instantly turned green at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Help me?" From the looks of it, those people with hooked noses, although their eyes were the same color as mine, obviously no one dared to rush in. There was even a joke in their eyes. The more I struggled, Instead they took more pictures.

Johnson, who was panting heavily, had never been insulted like this before. No one ignored him and instead some people made mocking sounds. How could he, a dignified pilot, have ever been insulted like this?

"FU*K~!"

After identifying himself to the reporters outside and proving that the officer had not been tortured in any way, the lively Johnson was brought in by the white-hatted military police pickets, and the atmosphere at the scene was completely ignited.

"Oh God, man, let me take a few more, I think this face deserves a roll of film, preferably with a smile on it!"

"Damn Yingjiang, you didn't expect that you would end up like this, did you? Satan is waiting for you down there!"

"Oh my gosh, this guy, all I can say is, God bless him, how can he still laugh!"

Different languages ​​were intertwined at this time. Most of the people, impatiently, had already asked their assistants to send back the first-hand negatives. If the person involved was photographed clearly, their task was completed.

Therefore, their mentality was extremely peaceful, and they even started joking without delay.

It is a foreign country. Anyway, these people here have no competition with themselves. It is impossible for each newspaper to be sold to other people's territory. To be able to gather here, according to the words of this land, gathering together is destined.

"What punishment do you think he will get?"

"HOHO, he is dead, I have already thought up a eulogy for him in front of his tombstone!"

The big-nosed John Bull was smiling strangely at the side, as if he was happy to see the little brother who was brought in being embarrassed. The three fingers of his right hand touched each other and made a cross on the top of his head and shoulders.

Whether he's dead or not, Mr. Vulture doesn't know.

But with his face ashen, he knew clearly that tomorrow, no, not even tomorrow, the news about his trial in a foreign country would spread all over the broken ball.

If you add the photos he took just now, it would be a sure blow to his current heart.

Everyone likes to be famous, especially Yingjiang people who have a strong desire to escape from the show, but this way of becoming famous is definitely not pleasant.

He could only say that it was too cunning. If his head hadn't been covered, he would not have been so cooperative and would have lowered his head even to death.

He was about to cry but had no tears. He could only harbor fantasies in his heart, hoping that his mother would not see the newspaper about him.

Taking heavy small steps, the iron chain between his legs scratched across the terrazzo floor, making a "squeaking" sound. The vulture's face turned red, black, and green, like an unconscious robot, slowly Entering the palace of destiny.

The door was opened to both sides by military police pickets, and Captain Steve Johnson, with his hands and feet restrained, entered the sight of everyone present.

Two of the cameras arranged in the four corners have been opened by the staff. On the black square box, the disc has begun to rotate slowly. From this moment on, every fragment here will be recorded.

His soul seemed to have been drained out, his face was dull, like a walking zombie, and under the gaze of everyone in the audience, he stood at his place. (End of chapter)