Miss Planeswalker, are you free for romance?

"I'm the one who hurt you..." she said. If it weren't for her, this beautiful and capable detective would never be in danger. Even if she got involved, the black policeman who seemed to be in a high position would protect her.

Just because of myself…just because of myself.

Naomi Misora ​​closed the curtains and walked up to her with a gun in hand.

"Matilda, not everyone associates with darkness. Maybe your childhood made you see the dark side of the world, but that's not all."

"Matilda. I help you because it's what I should do, not out of pity - if you are a hateful, mean, cold-blooded, dark person, I will still save you. Matilda, I fight for justice and fairness, which may sound naive and vague."

The woman's eyes shone brightly in the shadowy room.

"But my shooting is absolutely accurate."

Chapter 37 Search

"D.E.A. case, open the door!"

With guns drawn, the SWAT knocked on doors one by one, dragged the people inside out like pet dogs, and drove them out of the building. They started cleaning from the first floor, and then moved up floor by floor - according to Stanfield, the little ants were on the top floor.

"Stan?" The man in the leather jacket stood in the lobby on the first floor and took out a lighter to light the other person's cigarette.

"laugh…"

Smoke blew out from the corner of his mouth.

"Take it easy...relax, my dear brother." Stanfield held a cigarette with a smile on his face, as if he was holding a baton on the stage. The two teams of special police in front of him were his musicians.

The fingers holding the cigarette pointed at his eyes, Stanfield put one hand in his pocket and glanced at the "trash" who were kicked out one by one.

"We found a picture of the girl. We know her," he said. "So, what are you worried about? Hmm? Mr. Killer?"

Stanfield walked to the check-in desk in his leather shoes and flicked the ash on his notebook.

"He's not." The man leaned against the front desk, the tip of one of his leather shoes tapping the floor tiles: "He's a drug dealer now."

"Are you in a relationship recently? Who? Why are you sweating?"

"Is it hot?"

The man in the leather jacket gritted his teeth and turned his head stiffly.

"No, Stan..." He stared at the floor tiles and Stan's pointed brown leather shoes on the tiles, and his voice was filled with unconscious fear and trembling.

"No... I, we haven't dated yet."

"Oh." Stanfield took a puff of cigarette, puffed up his cheeks, and blew the smoke all over his men's faces. "But Ximier saw you kissing that girl, dear, when you said 'not dating yet', does that mean you can still kiss?"

Stanfield knows the whereabouts of every one of them at every moment, this psychopath!

Who does he think he is? !

"Your mother has been very active lately."

The man's voice did not stop.

"She joined a small community group, a stage play club, right? Hiss... I see you don't know about this? Thank me, I told you in advance. You can go home in a few days to give your mother a surprise."

"You," Leather Jacket rolled his throat, his voice getting weaker and weaker: "Stan...you. You went to see my mother?"

"We met by chance." Stanfield winked playfully: "She must have been very beautiful when she was young, and she must have..."

Opening his jacket pocket, the man stuffed the remaining cigarette into it and patted it with his hand. "…You must keep your mouth shut and be a law-abiding person, right?"

Stanfield grinned: "Otherwise, how could she live to this age?"

Leaving his sweaty subordinates behind, the man whistled and staggered up to the third floor.

…………

……

One by one, the yellow bullets were pushed into the magazine.

After taking off her high heels, she hung them on the concrete protrusion under the window, leaving her bare feet.

Naomi Misora ​​hid Matilda in the secret door of the stair partition, and hid behind the curtains. She squinted her eyes, like a cheetah in the forest with its belly pressed against the ground, ready to pounce, and half-crouched down, whispering to Matilda who had opened the secret door to peek at her.

'Go in...Matilda.'

'We can't hide it!'

Naomi Misora ​​tightened the silencer and tied her long hair into a ponytail.

"I know, Matilda, don't come out no matter what happens." If Stanfield is determined to catch Matilda, they will definitely not be able to hide. Misora ​​Naomi didn't want to hide. She had to make the room look empty, which was much better than pushing open the door and having a stupid gunfight with each other.

After all, this apartment has many rooms like an animal cage, and the other party has to disperse their manpower in order to search for them in a very short time and then solve the matter - Stanfield is not the king, and he cannot delay his own self-proclaimed assault for too long.

As long as there aren't too many people entering the room to search...

The sound of chaotic footsteps extended from the corridor to the stairs. Even though Stanfield's men were wearing police uniforms, they did not look like public officials. They were holding weapons of varying lengths and dragged the residents out of their rooms one by one.

"Don't move! Follow the order!" the men roared. Several of them stood guard at the stairs, staring carefully at the residents passing through the stairs - they had received two photos sent by Stan before they came.

One is of a man and the other is of a little girl.

"Clear this floor and call Stan up." said the leader among his men. His thick arms were covered with tattoos. He held a submachine gun and stared at the residents passing by with hawk-like eyes.

"You better be careful. There's someone good with guns on this mission, especially you." He pointed at the fat man next to him and kicked his calf with the tip of his boot: "You almost killed Jimmy last time. If Stan hadn't given you another chance..."

The fat man holding a baseball bat smiled awkwardly.

——Stanfield walked up the stairs leisurely, and from time to time he greeted the shivering residents.

"Soon, trust us, soon."

"Oh... a drug dealer, ma'am, I'll find them."

"I'm Stanfield, dear, your pajamas are so beautiful."

When the men saw Stanfield, they all straightened their faces, lowered their heads, and clenched their guns. The voices of discussion and gossip disappeared in the sound of shoes stamping...

This mental illness.

Leather Jacket complained in his heart but followed him with an expressionless face.

"This is the fourth floor, right?" Stanfield stamped his feet and walked around the stairs. "Fourth floor, fourth floor... Look at you guys, why are you so efficient?" He looked around at his men with a smile: "You are more elite than those special police, my brothers..."

No one dared to answer the call.

Stanfield walked forward a few steps, bent down, took the baseball bat from the fat man and weighed it in his hand.

"But... it needs to be fast and a little accurate."

"Are you right?" He leaned on the baseball bat, unbuttoned his suit, and looked at the fat man in front of him. He moved closer to his face, his neck, and breathed gently into his ear.

"hiss…"

"Do you think I'm right?"

"Ball."

The fat man with a fierce face shrank like a little quail in front of Stanfield. He shrank his body, not daring to retreat or raise his head. He lowered his head and answered in a low voice.

"Y-yes, Stan. We…we need to be accurate."

"Bingo." The baseball bat dragged backwards, and Stanfield turned his back to Bauer and said, "But why not do it?"

"Stan?"

call--!

The silver baseball bat drew a line in the air, and with a whistling sound, the head of the bat accurately hit the fat man's face!

Bang-!

There was a dull thud as the fat man named Ball fell to the ground, holding his face, blood oozing from his head and fingers. Stanfield threw down the baseball bat, and the metal bounced on the floor, making a clanging sound.

He took a deep breath, looked at his men who didn't dare to look him in the eye, and said word by word: "Find them. Search them one by one, room by room. I don't have time."

"Do you understand?" He asked softly, and then suddenly tensed the muscles on his face, staring his eyes out of their sockets madly and ferociously: "Do you understand?!"

"Understood, Stan..."

Chapter 38 Matilda is on the run

Naomi Misora ​​and Matilda are on the third floor.

She pricked up her ears, alert and sharp like a herbivore drinking water by the stream. After the door was roughly opened, the woman's breathing became so light that it was almost unnoticeable.

'The corridor is clear,' she heard one of them say.

'The bathroom is safe,' said another.

Two footsteps, men. One was about to step into the bedroom, the other was guarding the door. Naomi Misora ​​tightly grasped the gun in her hand, covered herself with the curtains, and slowly opened a gap with the black barrel of the gun and stretched it out.

Aim at the door.

"There's no one in this room, just look through the valuables and take them away, then go to the next room."

'Stan only gives one hour.'

'understood. '

The footsteps are getting closer.

The moment the black boots stepped into the door, the sound of a suitcase full of clothes hitting the ground bounced in the room.

boom.

bang bang.

——The so-called silencer of the silenced pistol is not "silent" as people understand it, but it is just slightly quieter than the explosion. Obviously the person at the door can hear it.

'Brown?!'

No one answered.

Naomi Misora ​​crouched down and quietly came out from behind the curtain, climbed over the desk, and landed on the carpet like a feather.

She smiled at the man lying on his back, walked over barefoot, pressed the gun with her toes, and gently moved it away.

'Press here.'

The muzzle of the gun was pointed at the man's temple, and the other hand grabbed his hand and placed it on his bleeding abdomen. 'I am going to drag you into the house now, sir, and if you make any sound that I would consider to be a warning or a message, I will shoot you.'

The black-haired woman stared at him, her lips curled up: "Understand?"

The grinning man nodded frantically.

Shut up.

'Very good, I hope you're not too heavy.'

Naomi Misora ​​dragged him into the house by one of his feet, while her other hand holding the gun was held steadily in the air - aiming at the target.

'Brown?!'

The calls from outside the porch had not stopped since the beginning. The man's partner was not stupid. Brown was obviously ambushed. Now, he had only two choices - either rush in with a gun and be shot to pieces by countless guys inside; or retreat quickly and ask for help.

Damn it, Stan! He was a temporary worker and didn't want to get into real trouble.

He held the gun and glanced around vigilantly, then retreated carefully step by step.

——Brown was ambushed when he entered the bedroom, so the other party must have been hiding in the bedroom waiting for him.

The man pointed the gun at the bedroom door and backed away faster and faster.

faster and faster.

Until a gun was pointed at the back of his head.

He held the gun tremblingly and heard a cold female voice.

"The strength of the ragtag army is much stronger than you. I doubt whether Mr. Stanfield recruited you from some street gang."

The bedroom windowsill is connected to the kitchen, which is behind this gentleman.