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Tantrum2 There is a voice

[Part1·Twelve dollars hourly wage]

You are woken up by a siren, and there is a pungent smell of sulfur in the air. All these sudden changes make you inexplicably nervous.

It's not completely bright yet——

——The billboard of the office building next door is right above your head, you can see it.

[Together with Miami, create a new beautiful life]

The sharp and piercing sound of the flute makes your heart beat faster, yes.

Once upon a time, you relied on it to drive away criminals, make suspects lose their will to fight, and make lawbreakers frightened.

Later, I was squatting in a public community with a syringe in my pocket. When I heard this sound, I knew it was time to leave.

People in the community will complain about you because you can't find a suitable place to live, even a small apartment. You wander around in public places, find a random stairway, find a place to sit, and then fall into a sweet dream.

Until the siren sounds, you understand that that sense of security no longer belongs to you.

When faced with questioning, you took the trouble to explain repeatedly that you were once a state trooper, and you once believed that you could go to a drug rehabilitation center to regain your energy and face life. But why?

Why did it become reasonable and legal in the United States? It seemed like it came naturally?

Ben Richter, you're dying.

But I want to congratulate you. You have survived another day and you have temporarily defeated this desire.

"Hey! Hello!" An explosion-detection dog came in from the top floor, and the police followed closely——

——The first time he saw you, this Florida police officer did not draw his gun.

"What happened? Officer?" You were very sensible and immediately put your hands where you could see them.

Police officer: "There was a self-immolation case in this apartment, right here..."

Before you finished speaking, the police dog seemed to have smelled your scent. It circled both sides of your trouser legs, especially the pockets. In the end, it did not sit down or bark loudly, so it spared your life - you had already

Successfully detoxified for thirty-one days.

"Oh..." The white police officer breathed a sigh of relief: "Do you have your ID with you? Your driver's license too? Give them to me."

You carefully take out a pair of chopsticks——

——Yes, it’s chopsticks to prevent your fingers from completely entering the blind spot of the police officer’s field of vision.

I took out my old documents, including my driver's license and police officer's license, as well as the drug rehabilitation center personnel registration card prepared by the anti-drug team.

The white police officer was dumbfounded: "Don't be so nervous..."

"I don't know how high-quality the police officers in Florida are now, and I don't know how fast you draw your gun, brother." You have learned to eat Chinese food a long time ago. In order to survive, this pair of chopsticks became your last

A bit of decency, "Did you turn on the body camera?"

The white police officer responded: "It's always open, don't worry."

Your desire to survive is very strong, and you repeatedly emphasize: "There will be no recording until you open it."

The white police officer then said, "I know..."

You breathed a sigh of relief and asked by the way while the police officer was checking your identity——

"——Who set himself on fire?"

"The agent landlord of this apartment, the manager who handles the apartment business for the real estate owner, should be an agent, right? I don't understand how these commercial properties operate." The white police officer looked through your ID and saw the police officer

When he testified, he was quite surprised, and a trace of disdain flashed across his face, but he quickly calmed down - he didn't want to complain.

"Okay! Mr. Ben Richter, did you sleep here last night?"

You guessed who the protagonist of the self-immolation story was, but you didn't expect that the little boss would end his life in this way.

Under your influence, this fat man is very afraid of pain. As long as he is a little tougher, this guy will never dare to use force. Even if he pulls out a gun, it is just to scare people.

Will he set himself on fire? Is it that simple?

You didn't mean to be nosy, you just asked one more question.

"Is he dead?"

The white police officer nodded and then asked in a routine manner.

"Last night..."

You interrupted: "I came back after recording the show on the TV station. To be specific, the show was not over. I got a reward of 1,200 dollars and immediately returned to the apartment building."

"When I entered the door and climbed up the stairs, I heard the little boss ordering pizza on the phone. He lied to the pizza clerk and asked for three portions per person."

"I don't think it's necessary. He can be bolder, and we had conflicts and had verbal disputes."

"Because he was paying a female anchor on YouTube, my attitude was a little bad when I was paying for the room. He pointed a gun at me. It should be a VP9 pistol - and the bullet was in the magazine.

It exploded and I don't understand why."

"I was very tired at the time. The guy who delivered the pizza would probably take care of him later. I thought so and went back to the roof to sleep."

"Until the sirens woke me up, this is all I had to say—"

"——Have you turned on the law enforcement recorder? Are you recording?"

The white police officer was inexplicably surprised by the speed of your speech. He was a little sluggish. Until you finished telling the whole story, he felt that all this seemed to be a lie made up by you - although the pizza delivery boy had already had an affair with the little boss.

Contact, the little boss was still alive and kicking around at that time.

"His hand was injured by a firearm and he did not go to the hospital because the medical expenses were too expensive." The white police officer added: "I called the surveillance camera of the apartment. Thank you for your cooperation, Ben Rickert."

"This guy lit himself on fire in the middle of the night. For some unknown reason, he is now a charred corpse."

"You'd better sleep somewhere else. Do you need community assistance? Ben?"

You shook your head, just hoping for a moment of peace.

The police officer took out a business card from his wallet——

"——I know there is a warehouse near the dock. You can help me. There is a job with a salary of twelve dollars an hour. You can do whatever you want. I know people like you don't like to be restrained."

This is said so well that you can hardly refuse.

Don’t like restraint? What do you mean by not liking restraint?

This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! Who likes bondage?

"Thanks."

After saying this tepidly, the white police officer took the dog and immediately slipped away from the top floor.

You cover your head that is still in pain and endure the pain caused by the stage reaction. You need a lot of water and you feel very thirsty.

Searching in the small refrigerator next to the old newspapers, you found two bottles of purified water that were about to expire. These were originally tools used by small business owners to make money. They only cost eight cents, or even cheaper, in the supermarket downstairs. When you got downstairs,

Yes, if you unscrew the lid just a little bit, it will cost you three dollars.

But it doesn't matter, the little boss is dead now, died in the fire.

After drinking two bottles of ice water, you felt better, and then fell down on the sofa bed again, lying with a pile of newspapers from the old era.

...

...

[Part2·Burning with rage]

At twelve noon, you wake up on the top floor of this haunted house.

You had a long, long dream, and in the dream, you saw the black dog again.

It spits flames at you, seems to be chewing firewood, it is grinning, and makes a creepy and strange sound.

In the darkness, you feel like the ceiling is going to melt with the flames, and it seems that you are not the only one in the narrow utility room.

There is another miserable soul trapped in this narrow room with you. You see the black brother's body covered with ulcers, and pieces of smelly blood scabs peel off from the charred flesh. He is writhing in pain, being blackened.

Dog's evil fire burns.

Finally, your posture on the sofa bed relaxed, your heavy chest was relieved, and you woke up from your dream.

Your eyes are dry and itchy, your throat is smoking again, you need more water, Ben Richter.

Let’s go! Move! Let’s go! It’s already 12 o’clock noon!

Start a new day, start your new life.

Back on the street, you cross the yellow warning markings and are still a little uncomfortable with the fresh air outside. In the past, when you walked out of a crime scene, you would always feel like you were in another world - as if the soul of the victim was still here.

, I want to confide in you.

You bought two bottles of water and when you took out your business card from your trouser pocket, you became interested in this job that paid an hourly salary of twelve dollars.

Maybe this kindness will really turn into your expectation in life, a job of packaging and mailing goods? It seems so simple, so mechanical, so fulfilling.

As long as you walk two streets to a warehouse in the Bay Area dock, you can find the person in charge.

Mr. Ben, Mr. Ben, go forward.

Try to take a step forward, yes!

By the time you came to your senses, you had arrived at the bustling sales area of ​​the warehouse.

The theme of the live broadcast has been decided, the logistics vehicle is waiting nearby, the warehouse supervisor pulls you aside and puts a work badge on you - as for the middle process? You have forgotten it!

How did you get here? How did you get this job?

It seems like another personality in your body has completed these things for you.

Then you only need to wrap these items one by one, affix postage labels, add address notes one by one, and hand them over to the next staff member.

The live broadcast room is very close to you, but just two rooms away, you can hear some sounds, very familiar sounds.

Perhaps that is the voice of a popular anchor, a voice that circulates in the subway, in studios, in company offices, and in police offices. Almost everyone in the state of Miami, almost everyone who has used TikTok, has heard this voice.

The voice of the anchor.

"Do you think it's expensive? Is it very expensive?"

"I have been carrying goods in Tik Tok for so many years. It is also difficult for manufacturers to make goods. There are so many staff here waiting for this meal. I feel... sometimes we cannot blame all the reasons."

“The U.S. economy is so good now, can’t it afford such a small amount of money?”

Just for a moment, all your nerves are burned through by anger.

Why? Why?

You look at the luxury cars outside the warehouse and see the hot girls holding selfie sticks waiting for the next wave. It seems that everything is so far away from you. You desire too many things, but you get too little.

Why can these bastards make so much money? Why can these liars have their mouths full of lard and no one comes to expose them?

Why can he reprimand the audience with peace of mind? Why? Why is there so much unfairness!

You didn't hesitate at all. One second you were diligently marking and labeling, and the next second you had kicked open the door to the live broadcast room - your hands and feet felt hot, and your heart was getting more and more angry.

Almost in an instant, you grabbed the assistant's clothes and pressed him down on the big man with oily hair and pink face.

You smashed the water glass, and the sharp edge of the glass hit the comedian's head. Blood flew out in just one breath. He was completely dead. It was all a show effect.

You are too strong, Ben Richter. Your anger almost bursts out of your eyes.

You couldn't control yourself. You stuffed all the remaining glass shards into the mouth of the corpse, and kept opening and closing the jaw, asking him to use the arrogant words as a knife and swallow them back into his stomach.

Amid the screams, you feel unusually peaceful, as if everything is moving away from you, as if all the noise has disappeared, including the emptiness in your heart.

Just for a moment, you are filled with courage.

When you walked out of the live broadcast room, your hands were covered with blood, but soon, these scars were burned by a fierce flame, leaving only charred skin, which was not much darker than your original skin color.

You know, these days of depression and anger are finally coming to an end.

You walked up to the luxury car and just took a look at it. It immediately started burning, and the evil fire that seemed to burst out of you spread quickly.

A few steps further outside, the sexy girl who was still doing an outdoor live broadcast stepped on the white beach.

She is still swaying her butt, showing off the 800ml prosthetic breasts on her chest, making them look elastic - you burst the prosthesis in her nose and hit her until her eyes rolled up and she passed out. At the same time, you

You heard the siren, but this time you didn't panic, it seemed like it was a given.

This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content! Sooner or later, you will be executed on the spot by the state police, and you have already seen your ending.

Your mind has gone into a state of rage. Facing the audience on the other end of the phone, facing the more than eight million popularity data in front of the screen, and facing the ever-increasing flow of information - Ben Richter, you have become a star.

, became the focus of everyone.

you say--

"——She's lying to you! She's lying to you!"

"Her paid content is fake! It's synthesized by AI! There are also thirteen air tickets and travel records in the background!"

"Hey! She's not a college girl from Florida! She has many bosses!"

You couldn't wait to find a driver's license from this warm corpse.

"She is already thirty-three years old! Why!? Why do you still spend money on her? Why?"

"Don't you have a life of your own?"

The live broadcast room is closed, and you suddenly feel lost, feeling that the coastline is moving away from you, and everything is moving away from you.

You ran back to the warehouse as fast as you could, climbed onto the logistics truck without thinking, turned the key and fled to the city——

——Mr. Ben, you don’t know where to escape, you don’t even know how to spend the rest of your life.

Arriving at the underground parking lot of a hotel in Dongcheng District, you evaded twelve surveillance cameras and the police car failed to catch you. You avoided the height restriction railing and when you came to the exit of the motel again, a car blocked your car.

way out.

You know, that's a road rage sufferer, a pure idiot.

His driving skills are terrible. He is almost driving in the opposite direction and wants to compete with you at the exit.

After honking the horn two or three times and seeing no response from you, the female driver rolled down the window and cursed loudly——

"——What the hell are you doing blocking the road?! Do you want a slap? Are you a retired Marine? Why are you looking at me so arrogantly? Are you looking for death?"

You had no extra mercy for him, so you stepped on the accelerator gently and pushed his Land Rover into the traffic on the highway.

Just for a moment...

The fireball shot out of the fuel tank cap of his Aurora and was carried very far away by the tanker truck in the fast lane, until the black tire tracks also began to burn.

Ben Richter, you've killed three people.

God bless you! A voice said! Well done!


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