Chapter 167 The Color of Nightmares (7)

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Kurosawa Hideaki closed his eyes without moving.

The injection-type anesthetic takes effect very quickly. According to the injection dose just now, his consciousness will completely disappear after about two minutes.

What can you do in two minutes?

"Let's go!" The man yanked, Kurosawa Hideaki took advantage of the momentum, staggered and bumped into the front cover of the Jeep on the side with a "bang".

Although it was an act, for the sake of reality, this collision was a real pain.

Kurosawa Hideaki snorted, pressed the front cover of the Jeep firmly with his free hand, looked at the "patrolman" with broken eyes, "Who are you?"

The man raised his hand and glanced at the injection gun suspiciously, "It happened so fast?"

Kurosawa Hideaki slowed his breathing, slowed down his heartbeat as much as possible, and squatted down slowly against the hood. He put his left hand behind his back, grabbed the butt button of the gun and undid it, and threw it into the blind spot of the man under the cover of the fisherman's hat in his hand.

The fisherman's hat fell down by his legs, making a slight friction sound against the fabric of the trousers.

"Don't play tricks!" The man squatted down suddenly, stretched out his hand to grab Kurosawa Hideaki's neck, grabbed his jaw with his jaws, and straightened his head, "Want to leave a signal?"

He sneered briefly, reached out to pick up the fisherman's hat and put it on Kurosawa Hideaki again, "You are nothing more than that, get up!"

The low voice of the "patrol police" sounded a bit hoarse, as if he had long-term pharyngitis.

Kurosawa Hideaki wrinkled his nose and smelled the smell of chemicals on the "patrol police"'s hands.

He shook his head violently, broke free from the "patrolman"'s grip on his jaw, and said firmly, "You are a member of the organization."

"So what?" The man laughed, "Do you still have the strength to stand up and shoot me now?"

Kurosawa Hideaki bit his lower lip and looked away with a humiliated expression, "If I had brought a gun, you wouldn't still be standing here."

"Tough talk." The man stood up straight, took out a cheap plastic lighter from his pocket, took out the crumpled cigarette case from his breast pocket, took out the last bent cigarette inside, put it into his mouth and nodded. superior.

Bah tah, tah...

The lighter was pressed twice before sporadic flames came out. The man took a deep breath, and the turbid smoke entered his mouth and blew out from his nose.

After he took a sip, he looked at Kurosawa Hideaki, who was leaning on the Jeep logo in front of the wheel and barely staying awake through the smoke.

He took off the policeman's hat that he had snatched, and smoothed his hair down to his shoulders from front to back, stuffing all the hair that was almost condensed into the hat.

Kurosawa Hideaki narrowed his eyes and looked at him by the light of the only street lamp.

Very poor, living in a cheap rental house, living on meager relief money, the water supply system in the rental house is not good enough, he hasn't showered in a while.

The cheap cigarettes a man smoked gave him strep throat.

He is thin but handsome enough, poor but wears an expensive watch.

The stench on his hands came from a chemical agent, which he had never smelled before. Judging from the carbon black traces on the man's neck, it should be a chemical powder or liquid that could cause an explosion.

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