Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Vol 5 Chapter 8: Rain 1 straight down (Mon/Fri)

A man was thrown through the wall, his head hit Rod's barbell, and the **** scene made him frown.

It was one of the five **** in charge of monitoring him. Rhode bent down and touched it, taking the gun from his waist. Quietly walked to the hole in the wall, carefully peeping out.

The living room was dark, and Rhode heard no sound. Taking advantage of the moonlight outside, he saw that his living room was a mess, the coffee table was broken, and the sofa was turned to one side, full of blood. His jumbo-screen TV was also smashed. The sight made his eyelids twitch.

Before he could start the next move, a dazzling red light lit up in the living room, Rhode's pupils shrank, he raised the pistol without hesitation, and pulled the trigger repeatedly in the direction of the red light. But none of them hit the red light. He continued to move forward, like a ghost in the darkness, and broke through the wall in the blink of an eye, making the hole even bigger.

Rhodes immediately stepped back. He grabbed the dumbbells he had put aside, and swung it towards the attacker's head with the help of inertia and its own weight, but was intercepted by a strong hand in mid-air. A mechanical voice sounded: "Your skills haven't regressed, Rhodes."

"Who are you? Why are there special equipment for the Avengers?"

Rhodes frowned. He suddenly pulled the dumbbells back while he was talking, trying to move the attacker's center of gravity, but the man didn't move at all, but Rhodes, who used all his strength, fell to the ground because of the reaction force.

"Hello, Rhodes." A familiar voice sounded behind him.

Rhodes looked back and saw Hawkeye with a longbow in his forehand, hanging upside down from the floor-to-ceiling window of his gym, looking at him.

"Clint? Why are you here? And you... Who are you?" Rhode looked at him in surprise, then looked back at the dark attacker.

The attacker patted the right side of the helmet, and the mask opened, revealing a face that he was so familiar with. Rhode's originally tense body relaxed, and he exhaled: "Captain... you really gave Surprised me."

"It's better for you to call him Steve, Rhodes." Hawkeye's beating voice came from outside the window, and he was hanging upside down outside the window, shaking his body leisurely, like an acrobat.

"What's the matter? Did something happen?" Rhode smelled something wrong in Hawkeye's words.

Steve took off his helmet, wiped his hair, and replied briefly, "It's nothing, Rod. It's just that Jack Richard is dead. And now, we're going to settle the bill with the man who ordered him to be killed, you want come?"

Rhode looked at Hawkeye and then at Steve. He suddenly grinned, his white teeth conspicuous: "Just so, I also have an account to settle with some other people."

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On a rainy night, the gunshots were continuous.

A gangster squatted behind the crate, holding a cross in his hand and praying devoutly: "Almighty, the only Lord. May you bless me and protect me from the devil..."

Before he could finish his prayers, the man watched with despair as his left hand opened and threw away the cross. Weeping, he clenched the powerful revolver in his hand and stuck his head out from behind the crate. But he just stuck his head out, and before he had time to shoot, he was hit by a flying bullet. His skull was torn open, bullets rammed into his brain with kinetic energy, and the splashed blood and brains splattered on the ground, which was quickly washed away by the heavy rain.

Frank Custer loves rain, which washes away blood.

He was strolling around this pier with a standard assault rifle in his hand. The killing had been going on for most of the night. These **** who came out of nowhere to take his life blocked his way to support the captain. Frank is no stranger, if not very familiar, to someone killing him—in fact, most of the people he's met over the past few years want to do it.

But the latter, no.

Fortunately, sending them to **** and finding the captain are not in conflict, and they are even somewhat related. So Frank was more than happy to kill himself before that. The gun in his hand roared, flames spewed, and bullets flew out. The flickering firelight illuminated the grin on his face that never faded, and also illuminated the blood-stained skull on his chest.

His long windbreaker had been wet by the rain, dragging on the ground, mixed with the blood. He was like a **** of death who harvested life, and he started to kill on this pier. But as the killing progressed, something strange gradually came to his attention.

Not right.

Gangsters are usually not so brave and fearless, they are all cowards who only dare to threaten the poor, women and children. Even the most ferocious of them will retreat when they see the skull on Frank's chest. But these people are different, they are indeed gangsters. But more than forty people have died since the gunshots went off, and Frank didn't even get hurt.

Faced with such a desperate scene, they should have started running away long ago, not like now, instead of running, they fired back at him, even if their accuracy was outrageous, and their expressions were full of expressions. is desperate.

As if something was forcing them.

But, he doesn't care.

The smile on Frank's face became more and more sinister. He raised his leg and stepped over a scum that was hit by three short bullets. The power of the bullet was much greater than people imagined. Frank turned around and shot three short bursts again, one in the abdomen, one in the heart and one in the head. The gun in his hand and those of these people seemed to be two different things. One can bring death, the other can only be heard.

The rain is still falling, even getting heavier. The rain poured down, hitting the ground. The blood was washed away, and the dead people, without exception, all lay on their backs and faced the sky. Some lucky corpses looked at the night sky with their lifeless eyes, and two dots gradually lit up in the lifeless pupils. Red mansions.

Their blood should have been washed away by the torrential rain, but at this time, it was wrapped in the rain, forming a circle of inverted pentagrams silently around the pier. The evil circle drawn by the blood and flesh of sinners slowly lit up, and Frank turned his head suddenly. He saw that the sky was covered with red light, and the dead corpses stood up again and let out a dull roar. pounced on him.

Frank didn't care, and continued to shoot. The red light that pierced the sky and the flame of the muzzle shone on his face, and that smile seemed like a natural match. He laughed wildly and roared: "Come on! Why not kill you again!"

However, after the corpses were resurrected by the power of darkness, they no longer belonged to humans. Even if it looks like a human on the outside, it is completely different on the inside. His bullets didn't have the same effect as before. At most, the walking corpses were turned on their backs, and it didn't take long for them to get up again. Seeing that the bullets had no effect, Frank simply took out three grenades from his waist.

In the deafening explosion, a hand was blown in front of him. Frank stared blankly at the hand, which was still crawling slowly towards him. Frank pulled out the dagger from his waist, inserted it hard, and pinned the hand in place.

He didn't choose to run away, but his manpower will eventually run out. The corpses gradually surrounded him and surrounded him.

The rain continues.

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