Transparent Bridge's hesitation caused Rohard to not make a choice, and Rohard's lack of choice made the fake Smith feel that he was hesitating.
The desire to live is growing. The fake Smith raised his hands to indicate that there was nothing in his hands and stood up from under the table.
"Friend, you will get nothing if you kill me... But if you are willing to let me go, I can give you everything you want..." Fake Smith lowered his voice to avoid making this seemingly harmless person
The fat white man suddenly became angry and moved slowly, looking for a place to escape.
For example, there is a large floor-to-ceiling window behind you.
"Although I don't know what happened, maybe I can help you... Is there a problem at home? Is it a lack of money, or is it a problem in my career. You see, I am a celebrity and I am very rich..."
The fake Smith, who was moving quietly, glanced back quickly. He wanted to see if he could fall to death from this height, but he saw a familiar muscle car downstairs.
"That car... wait! Smith asked you to come here!?" The fake Smith exclaimed. "You are in the same group as that fake guy!!!"
She was about to make a choice when the Transparent Bridge stopped and did not continue to make a choice. She suddenly wondered how the plot would continue if she did not make a choice.
Rohard was treated with silence.
"Wait, you don't know?" The fake Smith frowned slightly, the bags under his eyes trembled, and his brown eyes showed a bit of surprise, a bit of surprise, and a deep sense of joy. "He is the fake one."
At this time, a new option should pop up. But because the previous option has not been completed, the plot is strangely stuck in a "stuck" state. Whether it can be promoted depends on how the fake Smith thinks about it.
"It seems you don't know..."
Fake Smith breathed a long sigh of relief, relaxed a lot, and even pulled up the boss's chair to sit on it, covering his beating heart. "Let me guess what he said..."
The fake Smith sitting on the boss's chair had his back bent, his shoulders shrunk, and his brows showed a gloomy look that only comes from the bottom of society, with worry mixed with optimism.
Players almost thought that the fake Smith was played by the real Smith.
The fake Smith was imitating and shouting: "That bastard fake took everything from me, wealth, reputation, and those women that should be mine! Oh, and you, my good white brother, help me take these back
, I’m willing to share half of it with you!”
"Oh, you're not the first. Every once in a while, some stupid...poor people who are bewitched by him come to me and want everything back. Let me show you something."
The fake Smith lowered his hand, slowly opened the drawer, took out a few newspapers underneath, and pushed it towards Rohard: "Look, he must not have told you these things."
Rohard lowered his arms silently and walked to the desk to look at them one by one.
"Real and Fake Smith! Smith is accused again by lookalikes"
"DNA identification shows that Smith and the imitator are not related by blood"
"Smith graciously forgives the imitator for rejecting his invitation to be a stuntman"
"Or maybe he is crying and complaining that the media has been bribed by me and refuses to tell the truth?"
Fake...or real Smith's voice slowly sounded.
"Don't be stupid. You know those hyena-like media. Pulling a celebrity down can bring more ratings than ordinary news. Even if it is fake news, they are very good at this kind of thing, just like smearing our former
Wish Michael Jackson was like that.”
Smith's tone became lowered and he looked at the wall - the whole wall was filled with photos of him and other celebrities and dignitaries.
The lowest level members are all district councilors, including leaders of various political parties and United Nations officials.
"So young man, do you want to believe the crazy words of a street gangster, or do you want to believe me?"
Smith remained silent.
Because the Transparent Bridge faction didn't make a choice.
Smith didn't know this. He shifted his gaze from the wall of honors to the gun in Rohard's hand, and continued to lure Rohard to change his mind: "I will announce to the public that the killer who attacked me this time has escaped, and then hire you as a bodyguard.
Protect my safety, and the salary will definitely satisfy you. And I only have one request...kill that fake Smith."
Smith moved the sofa forward.
"Think about it. I'm going to smoke a cigar. I guess you don't mind?"
As he said that, he reached into the drawer again and said to himself: "Maybe you can have one too."
Transparent Bridge suddenly felt something was wrong and chose option one without thinking.
But Transparent Bridge made a choice, Blazing God, Wen Xiang, Lord Grim didn’t have time to do it——
A terrible scene happened. Players watched helplessly as Smith grabbed a handful of Magnum from the drawer and pulled the trigger on Rohard, who was restrained behind the table.
Bang!
The deafening sound of gunshots echoed in the office, and Rohard's chest exploded with blood and he fell backwards.
thump--
Rohard fell to the floor dully, and the blood red color of his white shirt was quickly fading away.
Ta-ta-ta-
Footsteps sounded, and a shadow fell down, covering Rohad.
Smith walked aside and looked down at Rohard.
The light falling from the ceiling makes it difficult for players to see the face clearly, and they can only vaguely see the cigar Smith is holding in his mouth.
A black shadow fell in an arc and hit the wound. Rohard twitched slightly due to the pain of the wound.
That's another cigar.
"Idiot...that genuine guy never discovered the real reason for his failure..."
The fake Smith whispered, and as he retreated, the dazzling white light from the ceiling fell endlessly.
The black muzzle of the gun was pointed at Rohard on the floor, and the cold face pulled the trigger again without mercy——
The sharp phone ringing suddenly sounded extremely harsh in the white light, like an alarm clock waking people up from a dream.
As the phone rang, more noise filled my ears.
The endless white light slowly faded away.
Rohard sat at his desk, pressing his hands on the computer. The screen in front of him had a notepad open, filled with disordered letters and symbols.
Squeak——
The door of the manager's office opened behind Rohard, and the middle-aged manager who walked out saw the characters typed on the screen document at a glance. The drop-down box on the right was only as thick as a finger, indicating that he had been doing this for some time.
The middle-aged manager shrugged nonchalantly and put the empty mug on Rohard's table: "Pour me a cup of coffee. If you don't want to, forget it."
Rohard turned his head and looked blankly at the empty mug, which was still clean at the moment. In the eyes of the players, options appeared.
[Go get a cup of hot coffee]
[Put the mug into the manager’s butt to see if you are dreaming]
[Put the mug into the manager’s butt and see if you can predict the future]
Time goes back to the beginning!
Mu Su's expression perked up, "Hey, if you want to do this, then I am too familiar with it."