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Indian Freedom Reserve, Connecticut, 2005. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 ｉｎｆｏ

"Connecticut" is an Indian word meaning "tidal river basin" where Indians such as the Pects and Mohicans lived. Irish immigrants began to arrive in 1840, and after the Civil War ended, Franco-Cal immigrants poured in, and after World War II, Italians, Poles, and Russians. Therefore, the power of the Irish gangs is deeply rooted in Connecticut, and the East Coast is controlled by the Cole family.

In the past few years, Gary has been active in major cities in the east, in order to find out the "No. 1 killer". He's about to go from being a killer of the Smith family to being the exclusive killer of the Cole family. Doing things for the Cole family is just using their network in the east, and the identity of "Killer No. 1" has become the biggest mystery in his mind. Once, when doing the "cleanup" work for the Cole family, Gary accidentally obtained extremely valuable information from the mouth of a branch boss of the Russian gang - the mysterious "No. 1 killer" is not a killer organization that has been passed down from generation to generation, but "a person", in the Russians, he is also a god-like existence, some people say that he has lived for hundreds of years, some people say that he is the embodiment of death, in short, the story is getting more and more bizarre. Gary continued to dig deeper, digging out countless clues that made his heart tremble, the legend seemed to be more and more real, he looked up the FBI's criminal records at the beginning of the last century from the library, the archives, and even through connections, which were all hand-copied documents, not stored on the computer, and spent countless hours reading little by little, before he connected the shocking clues together. If you count the time he first worked for the gang, he is at least a hundred years old today. Gary is not a rigid person, he has not ruled out this unbelievable possibility, and the direction of the pursuit is clearer.

Sure enough, the Cole family sent him a big piece of information, the Russians were going to take action against the big chief of the Pacicut Pector tribe, and the "No. 1 killer" would do it. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and Gary won't let it slip through his hands. The head of the Cole family helped him connect with his connections in Atlantic City, and he was able to sneak into the casino. Insiders at the casino revealed that the Grand Chief was interested in secretly buying up several poorly run casinos in Atlantic City and would come to negotiate contracts on Thursday night.

Tonight, Gary sneaks into the casino, waiting for an opportunity.

Following the gunshots, Gary drove to the right, and the extended Lincoln stopped in front of the woods, the doors wide open.

Stepping out of the car, Gary pulled out his gun, unwound the safe, and loaded it.

In front of me is an elm forest, so dense that cars can't get through.

Gary burrowed into the woods like a commando.

I didn't take two steps, and through the headlights of the car, I saw a person lying on the ground with his face rushing down, probably one of the chief's bodyguards.

He was dead. The bullet entered the back of the head, and the back half of the head was smashed, and the brain and blood were mixed together. Gary could tell that the killer didn't shoot at close range, but such a large wound was caused by a large-caliber bullet at first glance.

As I walked inside, the woods were dense and dark. To be honest, in this kind of wild, you should be able to hear some reptiles or birds, but now it is frighteningly quiet.

Then, there was a heart-rending scream.

Getting closer and closer, Gary tiptoed through a dense field of trees and bushes, finding a place to settle in the darkness, his back against a large tree. A night vision device came out of his pocket - since 911, all kinds of sophisticated armed equipment have been sold to ordinary people and can be ordered online. Originally, he thought it was a bit silly for an old-school killer like him to use this kind of thing, but he didn't expect it to actually be used.

He put the mask-like object over his head and leaned over, trying to find the location of the voice he had just heard.

It's pitch black. He searched as he adjusted his night vision device. The principle of night vision devices is to work by focusing light, where there is no light at all, nothing can be seen. Fortunately, this night vision device is equipped with an infrared sensor, and when Gary flips the switch, he can see the green color at night.

Gary stared closely, and he saw the figure.

The two men were curled up and fell to the ground, unable to tell if they were dead or badly wounded, but there was no difference.

The killer was some distance away, standing there with his hands behind his back, carrying a gun with the muzzle pointing down. The chieftain, in the flannel jacket, knelt at his feet like a leper dog. Gary couldn't hear what they were saying, but he didn't have to, and knew it was begging.

Gary frowned, not sure what was going on.

At this moment, the killer waved his arm.

The green picture is hard to see, but the killer's finger seems to be pointing at the chief.

As if disturbed by electromagnetic waves, the fluorescent image of the night vision device suddenly shook, and a shadow flashed through the lens barrel. The thing rose like a black ghost, aiming at the chief's head.

With heart-rending screams, the skin cracked, blood splattered, and the chief's scalp was peeled off in its entirety. Just like the ancestors of the Mohicans and the Pecots did when they cut the scalps of their enemies during the bloody battle in the Thames Valley.

From the discovery of the New World by Christopher Columbus in 1492 to around 1620, the Indians in the coastal areas of Massachusetts lived in harmony with the colonists of various countries and traded fairly. However, the seductive desires of the continent tore the appetites of the Indians, who had lived only on the gifts of nature, and the various tribes and colonists divided into different camps. The Pexett tribe and the Mossi dry tribe are joint tribes living in the Thames Valley in south-central Connecticut.

However, the Moxie tribe was an appendage of the Pext tribe, and as the Moxikan grew, they sought independence opportunities, and the British were jealous of the Peacht tribe for trading only with the Dutch, which brought the two sides together. In the summer of 1636, a Boston merchant was killed by the Pects, which angered the British. So between 1634 and 1638, the British and the Mohicans joined forces to declare war on a common enemy, which became the bloody and brutal "Pequett War" in history. The most brutal battle took place on May 26, 1637, when the English army led by John Manson and John Underhill united with their allies in Mohican to besiege two Pecht villages in Missitik. After successfully capturing the walled gates, the red-eyed soldiers set fire to the village, burning most of them to death, while those who escaped were waiting for them with swords and muskets. Of the five hundred, only seven were taken prisoner, and another seven fled into the forest. It was also here that the warriors of Mohican taught their white allies how to cut their scalps and skin people.

At the end of the war, the Pekts lost, and the captives were sold as slaves to the Indian tribes of the West. They disappeared and integrated into other tribes, and in the modern era they returned to the Freedom Reserve of Connecticut. In the 2000 census, only 227 of the 325 people in the district were purebred Pekters. Everyone may know about Atlantic City and Las Vegas, but they don't know that the Grand Chief of the Pects runs the world's largest casino resort and creates one of the most glorious wealth myths in American history.

Today, another white killer is scalping the chief, and what an irony.

However, his technique is more subtle than that of the Mohicans.

He didn't stop, he was more skilled and faster than the most experienced anatomist, and the sharp black shadow cut through the skin, cutting the sinew, and in just five minutes, a whole piece of human skin was peeled off.

A blood-colored zipper was slowly pulled open from his back, and a giant bloody man came out of it. The burly chief only screamed a few times at first, and then he was silent. In the whole process, as if he had been spelled by an evil sect, he did not resist at all, lying motionless on the ground, and let others slaughter him.

Gary felt his stomach cramp violently, and he covered his mouth with his hand, muffling the sound inside. But he unconsciously took a step back, and the heel of his cowboy boot stepped on a dead branch.

There was a cracking sound, and the killer turned his head.

The scene just now, combined with his past investigation, Gary immediately understood that no matter what the shadow in the night vision device was, this "No. 1 killer" definitely did not use a gun, his weapon was a "substance" like a knife. Gary knew the consequences of his hesitation, and he had to take the lead.

Gary raised his gun and began to aim.

Gary wasn't a coward, he was a sharpshooter.

The bullets whizzed out and did not hit, they were knocked away by the shadows that swirled in the air.

Gary tried to pull the trigger again, but at this moment, something seemed to bite through his thigh, and when he lowered his head, he could see clearly in the night vision goss, a black laser beam-like shadow poked into his thigh, and the edge of the black sword was like a black butterfly with wings, floating in the air, and disappeared in an instant.

He raised his head, and from the night vision device, he saw the killer's eyes, calm, cold, and he was already approaching.

Perhaps with the help of adrenaline, Gary ignored the wound and instead of retreating and fleeing, he rushed towards the killer.

Gary jumped in front of the killer as if he were on a spring. And the moment his body was still in mid-air, his gun rang out again.

The muzzle of his gun spewed sparks and smoked.

Unsurprisingly, the bullet still failed to hit its target, but that wasn't Gary's intention. Taking advantage of the moment the killer's attack paused, Gary rushed to the killer's side, and without saying a word, he swung his fist and slammed it into the opponent's ribs. This time, not only did he surprise him, but also the killer.

The part he hit was soft and lying on his stomach, as if it were hitting a sponge.

The killer's body then twitched a few times. He screamed, a cry of pain that was no different from that of a normal person.

The touch from his hand gave Gary goosebumps all over his body, and he was indescribably creepy.

The killer shot through the same part of his wounded leg again, blood spurting out.

Unlike the first time, the thing didn't disappear right away, and he could feel the sensation of the foreign substance embedded deep in his muscles. It saws and flakes on the thigh bone like a knife blade.

The killer did this, apparently out of revenge, for the punch Gary had just struck. He had to do everything he could to increase Gary's pain so that he could vent the intense anger that had risen in his heart.

The pain was so intense that Gary's leg nearly went limp.

Just almost.

His body instinctively sounded the alarm: if you don't try to survive, you're dead.

In the usual legends, the abstract battle willpower suddenly took effect.

People's most primitive desire to survive and the anger that needs to be vented are competitive.

The killer wanted to torture the poor creature, but he didn't expect him to do something beyond his judgment again.

Gary gritted his teeth and pushed forward against the alien substance, allowing it to penetrate the entire leg, and once again approached the killer's side, raising his pistol and firing. Garrow's advantage in his fast rate of fire at close range was immediately apparent, and he pulled the trigger and fired continuously.

Now it was the killer's turn to suddenly panic, and for the first time, he became nervous when he saw this madman running towards him regardless of life or death.

However, his powerful mind immediately calmed down. Shake your wrist and make a whipping motion.

Gary was tied to the other end of the whip. He was picked up by a tremendous force, and he was thrown out with a snort. The danger happened too quickly, and he didn't have time to react otherwise, so he could only quickly protect the vital parts. Gary's body slammed into the trunk of a tree, as if he heard the sound of his ribs breaking, and he almost lost the ability to breathe in pain.

He was thrown out, and after landing, he slid by inertia for a long distance, the dirt was pushed away by his body, and the branches hung on his cheeks, and the night vision device didn't know when it was thrown out.

He knelt on his uninjured leg as a support point to stand up, and he collapsed all at once, but he still struggled to get up.

He's going to run away.

But killers don't stay where they are. He had already launched a new wave of attacks, but instead of attacking Gary directly, he continued to push him over.

Gary lost his balance again, and before he could hold his hands on his body, he was thrown out again. He slammed into the tree on one side.

See stars.

Then, again, he was thrown out of the woods, and his skull knocked something hard.

Tortured by intense vertigo and helplessness, Gary felt like he was losing consciousness.

His eyes were closed, and his cheek touched the cold railroad tracks.

Gary had only one breath left, and he was powerless to resist.

His heart was beating so fast that fear had taken over his entire ribcage compared to the serious injuries, and he couldn't breathe or open his eyes.

Suddenly, maybe it was the headlights of the car, and there was a strong beam of light passing over Gary anyway. Whatever it was, the killer hesitated, and then the sound of a whistle sounded in his ears.

It turned out that the train carrying timber by the Indians passed by, and when I saw someone on the tracks in front of me, the headlights turned on and the horn sounded to warn.

The killer's hesitation was brief, but long enough.

Gary still had his eyes closed, reaching out and groping for the tracks.

The train didn't have time to stop, only the whistle kept sounding. As the train rushed by, Gary jerked to the other side of the tracks.

When the train rumbles by, the killer walks up.

The people of the earth were gone, leaving only endless darkness. (To be continued.) )