The Red Side is Always Blocking My Dog ​​leash

Byron decided to make today his lucky day.

As an avid oriental culture lover and an amateur artist, the idea took shape when he visited a famous art exhibition.

The real beauty should not be buried, he will be the one who will be shown to the public.

This idea became stronger and stronger as time went on, and finally, after months of preparation, he finished the first work nervously and excitedly.

Then the second, the third...

Nine works so far, without exception, are women. After being unable to find the oriental man he fell in love with, Byron couldn't help but start to get restless.

The FBI took the case, and they're going to catch him.

time is limited.

Byron didn't care about life more than his own beliefs. For him, death is also a withering beauty. And what makes him unacceptable is that he has not shown the beauty of men to the world.

In his irritability, he walked into a grocery store.

The mind was instantly attracted by the black-haired boy sitting by the window.

The autumn sun shines on the boy's body through the window edge. He lowered his head and narrowed his eyes. It should have been a bright picture, but the light seemed to be absorbed, making it look dull and gloomy, and his fair skin was wrapped. With slender bones, fragile and beautiful.

Byron recalled the last time he went to the art exhibition, the painting called "Sunshine Kissed Boys", the blond boy, the muscles with deep lines, bright and strong.

ugly…

Well, this is it.

A boy kissed by the sun, as his last work.

Without hesitation, even a little eagerly, he walked towards the boy and smiled: "Excuse me, can I sit here?"

Perhaps for the last reason, things went unexpectedly smoothly.

The young man named Arnold believed his words without any vigilance, and was very supportive when he talked about Japanese culture. Occasionally, he would tell a joke and show a face-saving smile.

It is not the warm and hearty smile of the Americans, but a more subtle, gentle but not dull, white camellia-like smile.

This made Byron's heart beat hopelessly, blood rushing through the veins, straight to the brain.

He said almost without thinking, "So, do you want to come and see?"

juvenile:"?"

"I mean, I have some collections from Japan in my home, which I have collected over the years. The language description is always lacking, and it can't bring physical objects to touch the heart - maybe, would you like to come and see for yourself? ?"

Byron explained: "Although it's the first time we meet, it's a bit strange to make such a request. But, as you may know, it's hard to find soulmates in high mountains and rivers - this sentence means it's not easy to meet a like-minded person."

"I understand..." The boy from the east smiled, "Thank you for your invitation, I am very willing."

"Oh, that's great! Today must be my lucky day, Arnold—permit me to call you that."

"Of course, Byron."

A-jun agreed with a smile on the surface.

lucky day?

It was obviously a bad day.

Fingertips brushed the gun body through the fabric, and Jun A frowned: "I can't wait."

Accept the sanctions, scumbag!

—

"The prisoner is Byron Layton, 32 years old, unmarried, studied at CalArts College of Fine Arts, dropped out... Now lives in Baltimore, Maryland—it's a small world, isn't it?" Agent Lanes said.

"Hannibal is in Baltimore, I mean, maybe the agents who are protecting him can get a part-time job?" said Alanna, a consultant analyst for the FBI.

"Jack, what do you think?"

"All part-time jobs are prohibited during the FBI work, take the good guy, the car is coming."

"OK. Seriously, don't you think you're too protective of them? It's like protecting two newborn babies."

Will Baby Graham couldn't help but said, "What? Please, that's a bit disgusting."

Jack said: "I just don't want to talk about their tombstones in the future - it's boring."

They spent an hour and a half on the road and finally made it to James' place after lunchtime.

Three-storey detached villa with well-tended small garden. But it's not the kind of plants most people like to care for.

The heavily armed detective came to the door and gestured ready to his colleague.

Next up are the classics.

"FBI! Openthedoor!"

After a symbolic knock on the door, there was no sound inside, and the detective slammed the door open.

The wind chimes rang softly.

The interior decoration style of the house is very individual, a Ukiyo-e is hung on the wall at the entrance, and the wooden floor is bright and clean.

Silence spreads infinitely in the air.

"Maybe it wasn't a wise choice to come at lunchtime," Will said. "How is the person checking the surveillance?"

There was a sound in the headset: "At one forty-seven in the afternoon, the prisoner returned home with another person, male, about fourteen years old, maybe a little older, Asian."

"He's found his last muse," Will murmured, and he walked quickly into the house in front of him.

Alana: "Looks like we're a step too late."

It's been almost ten minutes since the prisoner went home, "but maybe it's still too late."

Jack has rushed in.

In some moments, reality is occasionally more dramatic than the story.

like now. A Jun thought.

James curled up on the floor, red blood seeping into the cracks in the floor, apparently difficult to clean.

The man groaned in pain, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and he was shot twice, one in the right wrist where he was holding the gun, and the other in the thigh.

The bloodstained handgun lay three paces away on the floor.

The small Browning was held in the hands of the black-haired boy, and he frowned, "Tsk."

Following that line engraved into DNA, there was a crashing sound at the door.

"Okay, you're a prisoner the FBI is looking for. To be honest, I didn't expect that."

Mr. A covered his mouth with one hand across his sleeve to prevent him from making a sound, Browning threw it aside, and Byron's gun was kicked into the gap under the cabinet by him.

He rummaged through his pockets. "Would you like a cookie? Memories."

Obviously not getting an answer, the teenager roughly stuffed the biscuit into his mouth, grabbing his throat and letting him swallow it whole. Then grabbed his head and slammed it against the edge of the table.

They are now in the collection room on the third floor, and it will take a while for the FBI to find it.

Hands that were carefully wiped clean of fingerprints? The gun was stuffed into the man's hand.

boom! boom!

There were two consecutive gunshots, and the footsteps downstairs were obviously hurried. When Will, who was at the front, came to the collection room, the first thing he saw was a white male lying in a pool of blood.

Immediately following the intermittent blood trail, he saw the black-haired boy curled up between the exhibition racks.

The teenager looked here vigilantly, the clothes on his body were almost invisible, his face was pale, and he held a gun tightly in his hand.

"Medical!"

The medical team downstairs quickly arrived with a stretcher.

Based on the traces at the scene and the conditions of the prisoners and victims, the FBI tentatively made an assumption—

The prisoner took the victim home and threatened the victim with a gun. But the victim resisted fiercely and shot twice in succession, once across the torso, and once in the shoulder, and finally the victim grabbed the gun in his hand.

The victim was shot twice in the wrist and thigh, and the prisoner fell backwards and hit the edge of the table, fainting.

Although somewhat bizarre.

"Both the prisoner and the victim have been sent to the nearest hospital in good condition and can be questioned after basic treatment."

Alanna said, "The technical department found pictures of nine dead people in his computer, enough to convict him."

Will took a beat and replied, "Yeah."

"Did you find anything suspicious?"

"No, it's just a little weird." Will shook his head, crouched down and stretched out his gloved fingers to touch the floor, "Layton is 187 and weighs almost two hundred pounds (90kg), the victim...the boy, about 170cm tall. , he's thin, but he can grab the gun from Layton."

"Maybe it's just underestimating the enemy, and there's no other explanation besides this, is there?"

"Maybe..." Will noncommittal, he stood up, "Come on, go to the hospital."

Alana walked out of the collection room side by side with him. On the way downstairs, Will suddenly stopped, "I forgot my glasses on the table, you go outside first, I'll be there soon."

"You rarely make mistakes like this."

"You said it too, very little." Will shrugged. "It doesn't mean there aren't any. Next time I'll keep clothes without pockets out of the closet."