Using the GPS positioning system, Griffith easily grasped the whereabouts of Eaton, he took a motorcycle locked on the side of the road, and knocked his fingers on the lock twice regularly, and the lock popped open. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info

Wearing his helmet, Griffith hung far behind Eaton.

The Eaton duo's car drove for more than half an hour on the wide main road before turning into a crowded narrow alleyway.

The car drove through the alley, turned a few times, and drove into a wide complex of old buildings. IN THE CITY OF BIESBURG, IT REPRESENTS A DIFFERENT KIND OF INDIGENOUS CULTURE FROM THE 'UNCLETOMMY 'SBASEMENT'.

Mr. Eaton's run-down, run-down, nondescript neighborhood is in fact the place where Biesburg has the highest crime rate each year.

IF 'UNCLETOMMY'SBASEMENT' REPRESENTS BLOOD AND VIOLENCE, THEN THESE CRISS-CROSSING RAMPANT STREETS REPRESENT ALCOHOL, SEX, DRUGS, AND INTEMPERANCE. Almost all the people who come in and out of this place, if not the uninformed ones who have strayed in, carry some kind of dark mark.

The smell of ethanol diffused in the rotten and erosive air, and the screams of women and the excited cries of men hissed before dawn came.

The street is filled with consensual or forced prostitutes, drug dealers in hip-hop caps, and underworld gangsters in lean vests.

Every year, here, women who are beaten to death by ****, men who are shot are able to reach triple digits. It can be said responsibly that at least 10% of the annual missing persons in the city of Bisburg and even in Black Africa will circulate here.

But it's such a chaotic place, but it provides almost the best service in the whole black Africa:

The finest, almost everything you need.

Voluntary and even involuntary sexual services for different skin colors, nationalities, and ages.

A wide variety of high-quality poison powder......

Here, as long as you can afford to pay, dead people are nothing.

Obviously, our Eaton and Mr. Dimirenko are going to relax after a few big wins in the underground boxing world.

As dawn approached, half of the blood-red clouds on the black horizon covered the distant sky.

Griffith looked at the GPS positioning instrument, and the point of light representing Eaton's position stopped in one position for a long time. He tilted his head, and his expression seemed a little surprised.

Griffiths didn't expect to have such good luck today, and he was able to defend the target for the first time until the target person was alone.

"How can you live for so long if you are so indecent."

Griffith's distinctively crisp voice was blown away by the long wind, and the helmeted man on a motorcycle sped through the empty alley, the roar of the engine echoing at the end of the alley, kicking up large clouds of dust and scraps of paper.

……

……

Oriental Jazz Bar:

Mr. Dimirenko, the 'little giant', sat at the bar and poured brandy with a king-size glass, and on his left and right sat two tall women with fiery figures, with the rugged beauty of Europe.

After a hearty laugh, the 'little giant' rubbed his hands and feet up and down the two scantily clad busty women, causing the other to scream again and again.

Mr. Eaton sat on a leather sofa in the middle of the bar, a slender cigarette in his mouth, and his left hand rested on the brim of a goblet, thinking about things intently.

There was also a beautiful woman with a good temperament beside him, who seemed to see that Mr. Eton was absent-minded, but leaned the plump side of his body against Eton's side, and remained silent like a precious Persian cat.

After a period of frolic and foreplay, Mr. Dimirenko, who was clearly a good hand at flowers, tore the woman's clothes in exclamation. The man's thick roots waved, and then the woman's gasps and the man's laughter rang out at the same time.

Mr. Eaton, with his glasses, remained unmoved, as if there was a quiet air behind him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let his thoughts go blankly, and then a chaotic commotion caught his attention.

The commotion came from outside the bar, and suddenly there was a sound without much warning, which should be the usual brawls in the black streets.

In the noise and chaos, someone walked 'clicking' in leather shoes, the sound was calm and crisp, penetrating through a lot of noise, drowning in the fierce roar of men.

But this riot was different from the usual fights and brawls, and Eaton was keenly aware of something. He turned his head to look at the door of the bar, only to see a tall tattooed man in a short vest being thrown up, smashing the wooden door of the hotel and flying in.

The tall man, covered in blood, slid four or five meters in the air and slammed into the bar, clanging over several expensive bottles of wine and glasses.

This sudden accident caused the frolic in the bar to stop suddenly, and then it became even hotter, you know, it has been a long time since anyone dared to make trouble in the Oriental Jazz Bar.

Someone yelled things like 'what's going on', '******, who moved me?' and 'go out and see', and in the speckled and shadowy multicolored neon, someone pulled out a weapon, shoved at each other, and screamed and rushed out of the bar.

Eaton, who had been sitting on the sofa for half an hour, tilted his head, and his expression finally became vivid. He cracked his mouth and didn't speak, but he was emotionally interested.

"Is there a 'kick hall' between the underworld...... Interesting. Thinking like this, his fingers unconsciously stroked the jade man who was leaning in his arms.

Until this time, Eaton didn't know that the aura of tonight's male protagonist was shrouded in him.

……

……

Peake shook his dazed skull, struggling to touch the floor. He hadn't figured out the situation before, but he remembered that someone had 'kicked the gym' to make trouble, so he ran over to the station without hesitation, and then was inexplicably thrown out of the air.

At this point, he was hit on the head, his brain seemed to be concussed, and his body's sense of direction was spinning. Peake struggled on the floor for a while, and found that he had unknowingly crawled to the feet of a person, so he subconsciously hugged the man's calf, hoping to get up with the help of this fulcrum.

Peake glanced up, and the seated man looked down at him, who smiled condescendingly, then lifted his foot and stomped heavily on the bloodstained skull.

With a bang, the gangster's skull was slammed back to the ground.

The blood flakes blurred, and the bald man lay quietly on his stomach with his face pressed against the ground. Eaton flicked his trouser leg in disgust, rubbed his shiny black leather shoes against the other party, then raised his head slightly, and took a casual puff of cigarette.

The smoke dispersed like leaden ink, and Eaton shook the ash of his cigarette and looked out the bar door with one hand in his glass.

The fall of the bald Peake seemed to be the trigger for a riot, with the bodyguards at the bar outside the door and the thugs who happened to pass by shouting and drawing their weapons to rush into the dark night of 'kickers', and then in a dark darkness in a neon light.

Eaton's angle was not very clear about what was happening outside the bar, he patiently took a sip of his drink, and the sound of flesh hitting and objects colliding with each other came from outside the bar door, which became more and more intense than at the beginning, almost causing the bar to fall dust.

The shouts and crashes outside the bar rang for a minute, followed by a few men's screams, and finally quieted down.

The clatter of the hard-soled leather shoes against the wooden floor sounded again, from far and near, and soon reached the door of the bar.

Eaton pushed his eyes and let out a puff of pungent smoke. He thought about it for a while, and finally patted the bunny girl in his arms and motioned for the other party to leave.

The lonely moth was attracted by the light and flapped its wings into the light, leaving behind a bleak sky of powder.

The bright neon lights in the hallway stretched out the shadow of the bar's outsiders, and it extended through the broken wooden door, a hideous black shadow that had long since lost its authenticity.

……

……

With the record and momentum of the notorious watchdog who neatly leveled the black street, the uninvited guest outside the bar broke open the thin door - as a pair of dark leather gloves poked through the crack in the door, a thin guy less than 1.6 meters tall walked in.

The size of the uninvited guest shocked everyone, and the previous loud foreplay, listening to the sound of a man who had made many people tall and gangsters, actually had such a thin and small appearance.

The huge gap made everyone stunned for a moment, but under the rich atmosphere laid down by that person, it made people a little unsure of what kind of expression to put on.

A short man in a helmet, wearing a black leather jacket, walked in on his own, posing as if no one was around.

The man who didn't know if he was a dwarf or a child stood by the broken door frame, and he was in charge. He dragged a bat about his height in his left hand and wore protective gloves on his hands for night riding.

He dragged the bat in front of him, held it in both hands, and held it on the ground.

Until the man made such a movement, his body stood still, and he looked around. It was only the bar-guy who noticed the spocks of blood and scrap of flesh sticking to the short man's body, gloves, and baseball.

Without looking too deeply, the bloodstains and minced flesh must have something to do with the previous conflict and screaming, and I don't know what this man did to the poor watchdogs at the bar.

The black helmet slowly deflected with the shaking of the owner's head, and with the rotation of the helmet, everyone in the bar who was watching by the man suddenly had a cold feeling of being watched by a reptile, and the atmosphere from the shop was chilling.

But the atmosphere only lasted for a moment, and then the bar's broken door was opened again, and a thin, panicked, yellow-haired man with highly myopic glasses rushed in.

Perhaps the bartender who had gone out of the bar or a gangster who had just returned from something related to the bar, the yellow-haired man saw some tragedy at the door of the store, and then broke open the poor wooden door in shock.

With the squeak of the hinge and the remaining half of the wooden door, the stumbling thug rounded the short man standing in front of the door, his center of gravity unsteady, so that he accidentally threw off his glasses on his face, and finally held on to the bar and did not fall.

"Oh no, it's not good, Brother Aquila, they were killed!"