American Scandal King

Chapter 30 This is professionalism
Standing on the street, Ian looked around.

It was already dark, and the streets were deserted at dusk, giving off a sense of desolation.

After thinking for a moment with his head down, Ian's face showed a slight smile.

With his hands in his pockets, he walked towards the end of the street.

At the end of the street is a run-down old shop with a black-painted wooden door. Above the shop is a sculpture of a Remington shotgun, and below it hangs a sign that reads "Old Biller's Gun Shop."

When you enter the gun store, you can see that there is only one white old man in the store, and the surrounding walls are covered with various long and short guns.

The old man was sitting behind the counter, cleaning a gun.

Ian came up to the old man and said, "Give me a gun, boss."

The shop owner was an old white man. He looked at Ian and said with a smile, "Ian Carl? You're here to buy a gun? That's really interesting."

Ian wasn't surprised that he knew him, but asked in surprise, "Isn't it possible?"

The boss replied: "I've seen your news, and I remember you saying that gun freedom is a stupid national policy."

Ah, that was written by my predecessor... Although my predecessor was rubbish, he also had his own insights, including the fact that he believed that freedom of guns was a stupid national policy.

All I can say is that no matter how smart a person is, he or she has his or her stupidity, and no matter how bad a person is, he or she has his or her clarity.

At least this is true of the predecessor, but unfortunately the expression is stupid!

America without gun freedom is not America!

Gun freedom can provide more markets for weapons manufacturers and bring more jobs.

It can make the police's work more meaningful, benefit cemeteries, prisons, religions, decoration, construction companies and even fire departments, provide journalists with more good materials, and make the American people believe that they have the confidence to overthrow tyranny - without death there is no regeneration, without destruction there is no creation, why should we destroy a huge market that can bring a lot of employment and self-spiritual satisfaction?
Ian Carr is now an absolute supporter of gun freedom in the United States!
Ian shook his head gently. "Never believe the lies of reporters. In my heart, the freedom to bear arms is America's greatest national policy. It's the source of our greatness and our standing at the top of the world! America cannot lose the freedom to bear arms, just like the West cannot lose Jerusalem!"

Ian slapped himself in the face without blushing.

The shop owner smiled happily: "That's right! America is a great and free country."

He placed a Beretta on the counter. "Beretta 92F pistol, uses 9mm pistol rounds. Empty weight 0.96 kg, effective range 50 meters... The blood splatter it creates when it hits a person is truly beautiful!"

Ian picked up the gun and felt it, then asked, "How much?"

"Five hundred dollars, with two magazines included."

"Is there a silencer?"

"Don't even think about it. You're not allowed to sell that."

Ian sighed, "America isn't free enough! By the way, is there a record for this gun?"

"An unrecorded gun will cost an extra five hundred."

"I want it off the record."

The shop owner happily took the money, found a gun from under the stall and handed it to Ian: "You're going to like it. Don't reload bullets in the gun store, man."

Ian shrugged: "You are really alert."

Holding the gun, Ian walked out of the gun store leisurely.

You know what, I suddenly felt more confident.

Continue walking, looking around with your eyes wide open.

After looking around, he turned and walked towards a secluded alley, loading the bullets silently.

It was late at night and there were few people on the road.

Ian turned into the alley and just stood there quietly.

Soon, a man in black came over.

He came to the entrance of the alley, carefully took out his gun, and walked towards the alley.

boom! !

Gunshots.

A spark of fire appeared in the darkness.

The man in black looked at his wrist in surprise.

There was a hole in his wrist, almost breaking it.

The boss was right, the blood flower was indeed beautiful.

"Ah!" The man in black shouted in pain.

"Stop shouting. You and I both chose this place because there are not many people here." Ian walked out with a smile, pointing the black muzzle of the gun at the man's head. What was speechless was that he was also carrying a camera, which was in automatic recording mode.

The man yelled, "I don't know what you're talking about!"

boom!
Ian fired another shot, this time hitting him in the leg.

Blood splattered and the man knelt on one knee.

Ian looked at him coldly. "I've seen you before. When I got into Kit's car before dinner, you were in the car behind me. Although you didn't get out, I still remember you... Being a reporter requires sharp insight, otherwise you won't be able to find any clues."

The man in black trembled: "It's just a coincidence."

Ian shook his head slightly: "No coincidence."

He walked aside, waved the gun and motioned the man to come in.

The man gritted his teeth and staggered forward. Ian picked up the man's gun and followed him.

They walked through the alley and came to a small forest.

There is a ditch next to the woods, and there is a small wooden house next to it.

Ian motioned the other party to come in. There was a chainsaw, herbicide, and fishing rod in the cabin. It was obviously a temporary cabin used by someone for fishing.

After closing the door of the cabin, Ian said, "Your name."

The other party said helplessly: "Danny Koskerry."

Ian asked, "Why do you want to kill me? Was it Git's order?"

The man had no choice but to say, "I am a good friend of Charlie Mills. You killed him... I want to avenge him."

Ian sneered: "Do I look like a fool to you?"

Koskrie sighed. "Jit didn't like being threatened. He believed you didn't have the thing, but he didn't like your attitude. He didn't ask me to kill you, though. He just asked me to teach you a lesson, saying you might be useful later. But because of Charlie Mills, I did want to... kill you. I'm sorry, sir, and I won't do it again."

He is scared!

Ian sighed, "I don't like simple plots. This won't be good news."

Koskerry was horrified: "You still want to make this into news?"

Ian laughed: "That's not surprising. After all, isn't that what Charlie Mills does?"

Koskri: “…”

madman!

This guy is really a lunatic!

It was not until this moment that he realized what kind of person he had provoked.

Ian looked at him and sighed, "This can't be a just counterattack, so I can only be an unsung hero. What a pity."

What is he saying?
Then Coskerry saw Ian's gun pointed at him.

Koskri was horrified: "No!"

boom!
Ian shot him in the middle of the eyebrows, and he fell down neatly with blood and brain matter gushing out.

Seeing the other person's unwillingness to die, Ian smiled.

Then he touched the other person's body, and to his surprise, the other person was carrying several kilograms of flour.

I guess he was planning to do some business and wanted to kill me at the same time, but Ian got the advantage.

Depend on!
How is that a bargain?
I have a bottom line. I only kill people, not sell drugs.

Ian shook his head and said, "Sorry, it's all for work. We are all professional."

As he spoke, he drew a hexagram on the ground and placed the corpses on it, performing an evil ritual.

Out of mischief, he even drew a clown on the other person's face.

After finishing this, he cleaned the room again, cleared up the traces, and made sure that nothing was missed. Then he started taking pictures of the surroundings with his camera.

After doing all this, he left here with the flour and returned home.

Start writing as usual.

The next morning, Ian drove his rented car directly to the crime scene, parked the car and waited quietly.

There were people fishing near the pier every day. Ian had left the door open when he left, so it wouldn't have been long before the body was discovered.

After waiting for about two hours, Ian finally heard the alarm bell he had been missing for a long time.

With a slight smile on his face, Ian got out of the car with his camera, looking like an aimless traveler.

A police car roared over in the distance, stopped near the creek, and quickly headed towards the wooden house.

Before reaching the wooden house, the pungent smell of blood was already in the air. Through the door, they could see a corpse in the middle of the hexagram. The evil and ghostly feeling made the police change color.

"Set up a cordon!" a policeman shouted.

But at this moment, a figure rushed over quickly, rushed into the wooden house, raised the camera and took pictures frantically inside.

“Asshole!” Several policemen rushed over and grabbed Ian, dragging him out. One of them even kicked Ian in the butt: “You damned vicious dogs with a keen sense of smell, get out of here!”

Ian held his head and shouted: "You can't stop me, I'm a reporter, I have the right to know everything."

Catherine strode over, grabbed Ian and pushed him away: "Ian Karl, it's you again! You are interfering with the police's work, you will destroy the scene!"

This is what I want. What if there are fingerprints that haven’t been wiped off?

I'll have to carry rubber gloves with me from now on.

Ian spread his hands: "Okay, okay, I know I was wrong, I'll leave now!"

He ran away shouting, like a rat with its head in its hands.

The policeman behind him yelled, "Don't ever come back here, you son of a bitch!"

Ian muttered, "You'll be proud of scolding me in the future, and it will be a bragging point for your whole life."

(End of this chapter)